Hey all, Kiddo here after a long absence!
So, RHU, man, all the stories I've got for y'all from these past months. Just....so fucking many.
So first a few little ones:
So first a few little ones:
- A full fucking grown woman who did NOT understand to the point of obviously chosen ignorance about how we CAN NOT just 'put a little dab of peanut butter' in our store-baked chocolate chip cookies for a 'fun and tasty surprise' for our customers. Like, legit, the way she was talking about it, it was like an inverse jam cookie or Hershey chip cookie. Literally hide a small portion of peanut butter in the center of the chocolate chip cookie and then sell it as a plain chocolate chip, no advertising whatsoever about the hidden potential death trap inside.
When we brought up the issue of allergies, she honestly was so befuddled and confused and legit replied, "Well, then just don't sell them any; they should really know better, right?"
I felt brain cells die in that moment. Our store manager didn't even bother trying to go on about the various legal issues this obviously opens up and just kinda shooed her out the store. She went, still so very obviously confused on why we couldn't follow through on her idea, because it'd obviously just be so 'fun and exciting and tasty!'.
- A full grown man who could NOT understand the concept of shopping. I'm being serious here; it's one thing to ask where one or two items are but he kept coming back to the front end and asking for every item on his list. One of my cashiers had a small break in her line and made the mistake of asking to see his list so she could tell him where the items where, maybe even note it down so he wouldn't have to keep coming up to ask us for Every Single Item, including ones that should have been right next to the item he'd just asked about.
I mean, he was reaching for her arm, clearly to grab her and pull her with him, talking about how our store is 'so damn confusing' and 'why can't we be simple like Walmart' and how 'she *NEEDS* to help him here, he's the paying customer' and then here's Kiddo, scissors in hand (I was doing hand cutouts on the closed register behind her, for a local school thing we support) and about to lose her job when thankfully my assistant manager swoops in and gets between them, charming the guy away and taking him away to finish his shopping. I send the cashier on her break, get on an open register and fucking turbo the line to kill my rising rage. It's one thing to need help and it wouldn't be the first time we've basically had to hold someone's hand while they're shopping, but to physically *force* someone to help you?
For comparison, there's actually this one elderly woman we all fall over ourselves to help. She's incredibly kind, very funny, a good-type gossiper, asks politely if anyone can help her shop [she has visible shakes in her hands and arms and visibly has trouble lifting anything over about 5 pounds] and always has candy on her to give us as a 'thank you' for the help; she originally tried to give us quarters but changed to candy when we told her we can't accept cash tips. Being polite and decent gets you luxury treatment.
- A grown woman snarking on some college girls. I mean, I half-thought we were on some kind of weird candid-camera thing because it legit felt like a 'And they all clapped and cheered' moment.
See, these college girls came in and one of them's on one of our electric scooters; we've been having issues with people joy-riding in them so I go over to talk to them but I change my mind at seeing the girl in the chair. RHU, her legs were fucking purple. I thought she was wearing leggings at first, until I saw the bandages on one leg and another girl in the group kept apologizing for....I think it was 'cleating' her?, anyway, she's apologizing for it and offering to buy the chair girl's snacks and the chair girl's laughing her off and says something about how 'that's how it is for a goalie!' or something like that. That's when I finally see that they're wearing jerseys for a local college soccer team and you know what, whatever. The girl's legs are beaten to shit and it's late at night and we've got like no one else in store; so long as they remember to plug the chair back in when they go, I couldn't care less.
However, an entitled woman clearly has far more to say. I notice her briefly when the girls come out of the chip aisle and the lady's right behind them, pushing her cart like it's a club and her nose in the air like she's ready for a verbal battle. Common enough, so I don't pay attention.
Then I hear it: the nitpicking.
Then I hear it: the nitpicking.
The loud, snide, 'holier than thou' complaining about how 'some *people* quite need those chairs' and 'how young folk today just don't know respect' and so on and so forth until finally the chair girl stops, very very stiffly gets out of the electric chair and looks at the lady expectantly. Said supposed 'lady' goes immediately quiet and pale, clearly not expecting a confrontation and now also can see the girl's beaten up legs and how she had trouble getting out of the chair. The girl keeps looking at her expectantly, woman says nothing, girl finally breaks the silence with, "Is that all?". The woman just snips something about respect and hauls off down a different aisle; the girl gets back in her chair, sees me, smiles and just says, "Third time this year; people are fucking jerks" then motors off with the other girls down the paper aisle.
I honestly never thought I'd complain about this personally as a white woman in the American South but....
There's been such a weird level of cultural appropriation going around. Like, I don't know if it's because of the rise of shows like Southern Comfort and that Housewives of America (or something like) drama and all those Lifetime movies or whatever and the love of characters like Daryl Dixon, but we've been getting a lot of people from the North coming down and just....trying to act like they're Southern Gents and Belles and Dames and it's just.....eh?
Like.....I had one old woman snip at me about how I called the bathrooms, well, 'bathrooms'; clearly, I should have said 'washrooms' or 'powder-rooms', like she did asking for them. I know legit Southern Dames that call bathrooms outright the shitter and/or the crapper no matter the company plus...it's a fucking bathroom. I'm just going to call it a bathroom.
Then they talk up their little house parties and shower them with terms like 'hosting' and 'sweet tea and biscuits and little sausages on toothpicks' and 'enjoying the sunset over the marsh' and so on and so forth and then keep glancing at me or my other female coworkers like they're waiting for a nod of approval and it's just....don't go there. Don't assume you know the tangled web of being a Southern Hostess so easily. It's heavily routed in the local city society, local neighborhood society, your personal family history, your own personal history including your job history and your current employment status (be it clerk or housewife or whatever, with *distinctions* between part-time and full-time; Kid(s) involved are whole other fifteen levels of stress), and Gods fucking help you if you don't invite that one aunt or cousin or uncle or whoever and then there's all the little victory and defeat ticks you have to keep track of in regards to other Hostesses, both family and non and otherwise, and it just, it never fucking ends. I was fucking raised in it and all I got to show for it was a clear cut case of previously near-crippling social anxiety and an ever-growing hatred of the human race in general.
And here's the other part people don't get: you Know your history.
You Know it and you accept the weight of it, shame and pride alike. It's why some people I know get so defensive of the Confederate Flag; to them it's not a symbol of Pride but a symbol of Shame. It's a symbol of a dark part of our history that we shouldn't forget nor glorify and it's also unfortunately a large part of our state's history, so we can't just bury it in the back of the closet and pretend it never happened, just as certain details shouldn't be glossed over and sugar-coated when taught in history class.
Moving on before this becomes a full-blown Rant, it's just...weird to me. These tourists come from the North with this creepily glorified and sugar-coated idea of what it is to be a Southern Gent or Belle or Dame and sigh and titter over the 'romantic' aspect of it and it's just....ugh.
Signing out for now, later guys!