So as of late I have been running into a shitload of really unhelpful retail people. Let me begin by saying, I’ve worked retail. I know that shit sucks. People come in all the time and ask fucking retarded questions and generally act like assholes to “the help.” That is why I usually go out of my way not to be a nuisance and to help myself unless I really need something I absolutely cannont find. Oh and I am super fucking nice in restaurants too. I’ve also worked in that industry and there is nothing worse than a table full of dicks who change thier orders or demand unreasonable items or are think just because they are paying you as a waiter are supposed to turn into Mr. Benson.
This week’s edition of Hater Tuesday is dedicated to all the shitty retail help and waiters of the world. I hope you get fired. Soon.
Snobby Retail ‘Mo: In 3 out of 10 retail shops (of course in LA and SF that ratio moves up depending on the shopping area) there is one Snobby ‘Mo (yes I mean homo) who is convinced he is better than his minimum wage mall job and that your presence in “his” shop is unnecessary and a waste of his time. He usually rolls his eyes immediately upon your entrance and as soon as you touch something he releases a loud sigh that can be heard over CeCe Peniston’s wailing. You see he’s spent all day folding that sweater on the top of the pile you are touching and he is NOT going to fold it again. God forbid you decide to purchase something because then he is really going to be pissed off. He is mad for a few reasons: 1. He has to go all the way to the back of the store behind the counter where he cannot stare into the body of the mall and gawk at the dudes in the GNC kiosk. 2. Your choice of purchases are ugly and therefore a waste of his time. 3. Your boyfriend is crazy hot and you a female are with him thus keeping him from his gay clutches. 4. He actually has to work now.
Too Busy Being Plesant Not Enough Time Being Smart Guy: This is really a tragic individual. He’s so fucking nice. Like sugary sweet nice. But the buck stops there. He can’t do his job for shit. He will take your order, smile, exchange pleasantries but when the food comes that shit is wrong. Like you ordered a salad with poppy seed dressing on the side and he just brought you a cheesburger and fries wrong. When you tell him it’s wrong you feel like an asshole because he’s so fucking nice about it. That is until he comes back two minutes later and says, “So you wanted the tuna melt right?” Then you realize it doesn’t matter how fucking nice he is, dude is a retard and can barely hold a pen. You settle on a tuna melt even thought of mayonnaise makes you want to hort.
Silent Nervous Teen: My friend Dave White has written about the Teen help before so I know he will feel me on this. God bless a working teen. Lord knows I have respect for a young person with the drive and responsbility to get a job and do for self. However, if you are not capable of speaking to people that are not related to you, work on that first, then get a job. It is so frustrating to enter a retail shop, go to the counter, ask a question and just get stared at. Or worse mumbled at. When you ask them to repeat themselves or speak up you can see the terror in thier eyes. They whole “Don’t talk to strangers” mantra is still in the process of deprogramming. A simple exchange that should take about 4 minutes to transpire can be stung out into a 15 minute ordeal due largely in part to Nervous Teen’s inability to communicate or make change.
Ghetto Botch Wit A Job Her Baby Daddy Made Her Get: This is a love to hate type of thing. One of my favorite stories ever involves GBWAJHBDMHG, it was told to me by my dear friend Coach. It goes a little something like this, Coach goes into KFC to purchase a bucket of wings for a party he plans on attending. He is standing in line behind a gentleman who is placing an order for a large family style dinner bucket. The woman taking orders has long, long braids, extremely long nails and perfectly applied make up. She is using her knuckles to press the keys on the register so she keeps instructing the man to “Hold up” or “Slow down, dang” or to simply say “Whuuuuut?” The entire time she is looking over his shoulder or to the left of him or just right through him. She finally manages to get the order down in the register and then she asks him the cherry of a question, “Is that for here or to go?” The man visibly annoyed at the sheer amount of time it’s taken to place the order, looks around and then looks back at her and says “Um, what do you think? I’m here alone and I just ordered a family pack.” Without missing a beat, she flips her braids back, stares at her fingernails and says “I don’t know yo’ life…is that for here to go!” That my friends, is the essence of GBWAJHBDMHG. She does not give a fuck and she certainly does not know yo’ life…nor does she want to.
PLAYER OF THE WEEK:
Look at this mutherfucker right here, he does not give a fuck. He don’t need no fucking t shirt. Sure he’s got one, it’s that grey/brown rag that’s wadded up in his fist. What’s really fucking important is that afro pick. Let’s be real, a mainey individual like this needs to maintain his fro. That shit is perfectly picked out and activated. And I do mean perfectly. He’s got the kung fu grip on that bitch just in case someone, like say that square ass pretending he’s in his “happy place” and not sitting next to a shirtless 300lb black man with a scarred belly, tries to get wise and snatch it from him. No one is taking this fool’s afro pick. No one. Now here is where it gets super fucking awesome. You will notice dude is putting something in his pocket. Take a moment, look at his hand. What you can’t see here but what absolutely and I swear on my grandfather’s grave that this shit went down - dude took a call. On a cell phone. A shiny ass Treo cell phone. That shit rang and rang and rang, then dude realized it was him, he pulled out a shiny ass Treo and answered in a deep voice “WORD.” It was at this point that I started scrambling for my own cellphone, struggling to pretend like I was “texting” so that I could snap a photo of dude on his Treo without getting my ass beat. No such luck. I missed the phone call by mere moments. Luckily I did get this picture. Moments later the mainiest man alive stepped off the train onto the platform and was gone. Oh and don’t worry because that IS an earpiece danling from his face and laying across his naked chest.
March 28th, 2006 at 6:36 pm
Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!! This is the funniest shit ever!
March 28th, 2006 at 7:07 pm
For reals gurl, this shit is boss. What did old dude smell like? I’m guessin’ stale malt liquor and pig candy.
March 28th, 2006 at 8:03 pm
mainey individual. . . . . . . .
March 28th, 2006 at 8:07 pm
first of all… you said “hort.” huhuhuhu
second… i’ve seen that crazy motherfucker on the j-church! not (un)dressed like that, or with a cell phone, but his shades were propped up on his forehead like that and he was mumbling to himself. go hard or go home, i guess.
March 28th, 2006 at 8:30 pm
Thank you. I laughed and laughed at GBWAJHBDMHG. Then I scrolled up and laughed again.
March 29th, 2006 at 8:58 am
Dad? Is that you? Please come home.
March 29th, 2006 at 9:55 am
LOLL! you know that snobby retail ‘mo next to dude is shook! “WORD” is exclaimed outloud answering the Treo…a fifth of Old Times already tucked away in his system. the mainey individual is on one. he don’t your assistance, social persistance, any problem he got, he’ll just put his fist in…this dude was stone cold in the 80’s. you can’t tell this mother fucker shit! place the silent nervous teen next to this fool
March 29th, 2006 at 10:44 am
That dude on the train is “Fro-Man”. He’s at where I work once a week and he handles a lot …. A LOT of immigration work for Africans that want to come to America. He’ll be on the computer station for days and sometimes he’ll bring in some cats from Africa to get their paper work faxed out or filled in online. And yes, some times he smells like NIght Train. One time he was parallel parking (he gotta’ off white volvo station wagon) and smashed into both cars … the front and the bak enough to shatter a head and rear light or two… and he never flinched… just got out his whip and came in to go about his regular business as usual. He got SUPER POWERS … the ability to not give a fuck and get shit done.
March 29th, 2006 at 11:15 am
well by the look and description of ol’ boy on the bus it would seem to me he was partaking in one of the things sf is famous fo…smack…horse…black tar…yeah I said it…he was all laid back and shirtless going to that happy place but able to answer the phone always ready for biz…he did have his stunna’s on and he could takin his shirt and spun it round like a helicopter but he was chiiiilllllll…
and as for GBWAJHBDMHG..don’t hate too hard that might be your girl one day after I have squandered on my $$$ on RAP and end up with some 40 drinkin fool that’s got to have his fried chicken…PSYCH…I think not!!!
Snobby retail mo’s and timid teens better step aside cuz this bitch is ready to go on a shoppin spree and I don’t need any help unless it’s to beat a bitch down for gettin my order wrong again!!!
March 29th, 2006 at 12:00 pm
you’re GBWAJHBDMHG!
March 29th, 2006 at 12:18 pm
Daaammmmnnnnn! Your Blog is hella funny! This has got to be one of the funniest stories I have ever read. You just made my day at work!
March 29th, 2006 at 1:02 pm
that shit made me crack the fuck up…that guy is the man..i wanna be like him and ride the train with no shirt talkin on my ghettro like what thizzzz it?
holla
March 29th, 2006 at 5:10 pm
What’s that thing setting next to that dude, a light saber? I knew it - when I saw him I could tell he was all about the “schwartz”.
March 29th, 2006 at 7:31 pm
next time there’s a thirty something year-old virgin with a receding hair line listening to his cd player–because he never got the ipod memo–and is wearing hipster mock-bowling shoes from 1996, PLEASE get his number for me.
March 30th, 2006 at 10:15 am
the picture of dude with the afro and the socially-defensive music man next to him is awesome.
March 30th, 2006 at 1:24 pm
it warms me heart to see that all of you feel me on this player of the week. dude was unbelievable. i risked my life to capture this moment and it was sooo worth it. sooo worth it. i am also fucking puuumped that my cellphone camera rules so hard because let’s face it without a photo you would have never believed how mainey he was.
March 30th, 2006 at 2:58 pm
I now ponder the endless possibilities of his life story…
March 31st, 2006 at 4:47 am
Shit, I nominate that man for player of the month. What I’m wondering is how he gets his cash for that Treo. I don’t want to take the easy racist route and immediately say “drugs.” It’s far more entertaining just to imagine what kind of job he’d have, or what place would hire him. Hmm…
March 31st, 2006 at 3:30 pm
I think this man has been a hairdresser for all THREE lives: past, present, and future.
March 31st, 2006 at 4:37 pm
Relax, only two songs on that whole album are listenable, the rest is pretty boring. I was just surprised that the lot of it didn’t make me want to die.
March 31st, 2006 at 5:48 pm
oh you forgot to spit out some hate on all the mark ass busters who didnt make it to the 3 dolla holla! i wonder why you left that section out, those haters are the most diabolical!!!
March 31st, 2006 at 9:18 pm
adam: NO! Absolutely not. You will not listen to the fucking streets. NEVER! Not even two songs. Have you seen that guys teeth? I have. I’ve met that guy. Listen. Seriously. I am serious send that record back from whince it came. Let me guide you through the landscape of hip hop. I’ll find you something you will like and I promise that it will not include words like “yaddddidamean” Just stop listening to the streets right now. Seriously.
bderka: i tried to attend via hyphy satelliette but all the bitches i know got jank ass cell phone plans with no video messaging. i had a sweet ass message recorded but no go. i need to get yo’ number is your phone gangsta? or are you on some whatver call me aftah 7 Mistah FAB ghettro Metros and Chirpers shit too? Someone, anyone get a job and some decent cell coverage already. Thus far it’s me and Max-a-Million holding it down. Dang.
April 1st, 2006 at 1:21 am
Like I actually bought those records, please.
April 3rd, 2006 at 12:30 pm
adam; no one said you purchased them. what i am saying is there will be NO listening to those records either. you hear me? if you want UK rappers please trade those fucking albums in and get something by Roots Manuva.
April 4th, 2006 at 2:25 am
Regardless of what I actually think about the record, what would you do if i just said i liked it, would continue to listen to it, and told you to fuck off?
April 4th, 2006 at 2:27 am
And just to clarify, The Streets are lame, the album is really uninspired, and at best a forgettable novelty.
Calm down woman!
April 4th, 2006 at 2:49 am
Also, call mom, shes worrying about you for some stupid reason. You know how she gets.
April 4th, 2006 at 10:02 am
AHAHAH do i smell a challenge? Im glad to read this sentence though: “The Streets are lame, the album is really uninspired, and at best a forgettable novelty.” Oh and Mom knows my phone number she should just call me. Durr.