Fun in retail. So get this! There I am at work being a miserable prick and insulting any colleague that has the balls to actually attempt to speak to me when a customer walks up to with a game he wanted to buy. I immediately switch over Optimus Prime-style from miserable unholy bastard to “Happy-go-lucky Gimmie your money” sunshine Steve (I hate my life).
“Steven is it? Are ya Polish?” said the vermin infesting my SteveSpace. I told him I was Irish in my sunniest most testicle twisting work voice. Now that I think about it…was he checking to see if I was polish before attempting this? I doubt a polish person would go in for his sick game. I’m Irish and desperate for approval as a Irish genetic trait so this easily could have worked.
He asked where I was from and I told him. He sympathized with me on the crushing loss of our boys in the All-Ireland final a few weeks ago. We talked about football for a while and he was really, really nice. He even went as far as to compliment how I was dressed at work, “sharp” and “professional” he said. I was gobsmacked. He is supposed to be a complete bastard and I’m supposed to stand there and take it while planning a self-harm session later in the evening to see if I can still feel pain…that’s the drill. “Know your role, Sir.” I thought.
So this goes on for at least 15 minutes. He continues to be extremely nice until my SteveAlarm went off. I started to worry that he was distracting me so a friend could rob the place blind! Iv seen it happen before… but no. He was just being nice and obviously had a great night with Mrs.Customer last night, perhaps the neighbours called around and they riddled each other? There is no way an Irish person should ever be this happy, we usually drum them out and move them to the next parish over…it’s the Irish way. Openly happy people concern us. I could walk past a gay couple publicly man-humping each other through loud speakers outside a church draped in the Irish flag as the Queen of England cheered them on and not bat an eyelid. “Howaya Tommy? You’re at it!” I’d say while instantly forgetting what I have seen…but an openly happy person drives us mental. “He’s up to something” I thought.
So after this 10-15 minute period I was getting really tired of humouring this guy. Sure, he was very nice but I had other things to do so I picked up the game and scanned it. And here it comes.
That’s €55 please
“Ara youl do me a discount!”
I can’t I’m afraid. I’d be hung
“Ah go way outta that! Il give you €50 and we’ll leave it at that!”
“Ah for fuck sake you will do it for €50 or I won’t take it. What difference does the extra €5 make to you?”
Well that extra €5 is a large part of the profit margin…which pays my wages…which makes a huge difference to me.
“€50 take it or leave it, this place makes enough money”
He then grabs the game, puts a 50 on the counter and starts to walk away. I told him if he didn’t come back with the game I would call security (Fool! There is no security!) and he stopped. He looked at me, shouted “Fine. Take the fuckin thing!” and threw the game back at me! It’s lucky I have the reflexes of a cat because he whipped that thing at my head! I ask you…what sort of an individual does this?
What if it had hit me on the head? I would have been mildly startled and might not have been able to perform this evening when Mrs.Steve calls over for her nightly service. The poor woman would be beside herself with sexual frustration meaning I would have to watch some shit tv show about people in California over reacting to minor problems relating to their poodles sunhat and sweater ensemble. You sir are a thoughtless individual and I hope you are run over by a big bus later today.