Tuesday, May 30, 2006

I sort of hate to ask it...

Apparently, I have some pent-up aggression today, as I learned at Duane Reade when the cashier asked me to take the items out of my basket and I just glared at her for a minute.

But seriously, what's the point of this? You can't lift my bottle of vitamins out of the basket and scan it just as easily as you can lift it off the counter and scan it? I mean, if anything, the basket gives you half an inch less lifting to do! Then she ignored the fact that I was holding out my club card (usually they ask for it before I can even set my basket down, let alone get my wallet out). Then, when we were done, she muttered something about the basket (which was still sitting on the counter) and motioned noncommittally with her hand. I gathered that she wanted me to put the basket away (as if I worked there and this were my job), so I tossed it into the basket that was on the floor next to me, thinking that's where they went. "NO!" she suddenly yelled, "Over THERE!" Her hand gesture wasn't any clearer than before but I gathered she meant by the door, from where I'd first gotten the basket.

"Sorry," I said, not sorry at all, "there was one here already so I thought - "

"Just because there was one there doesn't mean that's where they go! I SAID to put it over THERE!"

"I didn't HEAR you," I said, articulating carefully but not yelling, "and I thought this was where they went. I'll take BOTH of them on my way out." And I did. I walked by a manager as I did so, but decided to be the bigger man and not say anything.

I mean, I don't want to be the rude customer, and I'm sure your job sucks and you have to deal with fuckwits all day, but how about a little courtesy and professionalism, huh? I just didn't realize I'd gotten on the self-serve line at the drug store.

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