Unfiltered Story #135438

, , | Unfiltered | January 5, 2019

I’ve been sick for the past four days and aside from being the regular amount of not-feeling-good-while-sick, I’ve been worried about how my throat/voice is gonna be when my band goes into the studio to record this weekend. My right hand/wrist has been bothering me, so I haven’t gotten a whole lot of drawing done for my freelancing jobs either. It’s made me a bit antsy.

I also have a part time job at a grocery store while I get my various portfolios together, so I’m on my feet for hours at a time, providing super happy customer service at the register to grumpy, rushed customers. My nose is constantly running today, and I get dirty looks when I blow my nose (I use hand sanitizer constantly so I dunno).

I’m doing my best to bag some heavy groceries for a woman who absolutely refuses to understand what “express lane” means, and my wrist brace is making me a bit clumsy. Tired, in pain, and feeling pretty awful overall, I announce her total and and she pays in cash while grumbling about how slow I am.

I hand her the change and close the register when she says “Whoops! I meant to give you (x amount of change).” and hands me some coins. Through a haze of congestion medicine, I sign out of the register to open it up. I look at the receipt and try to calculate in my head what I’m supposed to do next, but I can’t seem to math right at that particular moment.

She lets out an exasperated noise of protest and tells me the change she expects. Just wanting this transaction to be over, I get my phone out and use the calculator.

“Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she snarls. Close to tears, I hand her the money. “Too stupid to even work at a grocery store,” she says. And she walks off.

I’m actually crying at this point, but try to play it off as I greet the next customer as cheerfully as possible. She whispers something to the woman next to her and the woman races back toward the aisles, presumably to pick something else up.

I ring this customer up and make small talk with her until her friend comes back with the item she went for, a candy bar. “This one too?” She nods and smiles, running her card through.

I hand her the receipt and tell her to have a good day. “You too, honey! Don’t let that bitch get you down. You’re doing a great job.”

She hands me the candy bar.

Pretty good day.

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