Very fucking restrained as it happens. Not that you're believing it though. I put it to you that I am extremely restrained in what I actually say to my customers (compared to what's going round the fetid sewer that I call my brain). Still not convinced?
Exhibit A
One of my regulars came in this afternoon and started prattling on about his granddaughter. First of all, I didn't point out that being as he appears to be gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide, I'm amazed that he has a granddaughter. Secondly, I didn't tell him that I don't really care that much. Just because I'm friendly, it doesn't mean I'm your friend. I'm only being friendly so you'll come back and spend more money. Finally, and this is the part that took real restraint on my part, he mentioned that his granddaughter is studying civil engineering. Although I thought it immediately and grinned to myself I didn't then say,
"I bet she'll be responsible for a lot of erections."
Boom-Boom.
This did actually happen by the way and isn't just an excuse to recycle an old joke.
If you're still not convinced that I can actually keep my trap shut here's some supporting evidence:
I've never said to my female colleagues when they've been bending over with their heads near my nadgers "While you're down there love."
I've never told the dirty smelly gypsies to have a fucking wash.*
I didn't take the piss out of one of my colleagues who tried to pay a cheque into his account but forgot to put a paying in slip in his sealed envelope. What a twat!
I've never told any of the dole scroungers to get a fucking job.
I've never said "well that was fucking stupid wasn't it?" when confronted with stupidity from customers.
I've never told a customer that I don't want to hear about their inane bloody life in excruciating detail on and on and on while the queue builds up and up and up and could they please shut up and fuck off?
Nearly all of the above examples I've wanted to do a few times every fucking day. And yet, after years of working behind the Post Office counter I've so far succeeded in keeping schtum. Only once have I given in to an urge to be a bit rude and that was pretty tame. A smelly pensioner needed to fill in a form. I coached him through all of it and asked him to sign the bit at the bottom. My patience was wearing thin due to the smell, the sheer time it had taken and the number of times I'd had to repeat myself when he asked me,
"What, my signature?"
I flipped.
"Well of course your bloody signature. You can't put someone else's signature there can you?"
*In case anyone thinks that this terminology is discriminatory, then you should come here and smell them. They are dirty and they do smell. I've never felt the urge to shout at the non-smelly, clean gypsies. So there.
Thursday, 29 November 2007
Monday, 26 November 2007
Regulars - Neckbeard the Pirate
So called to the astonishing amount of hair on his neck (obviously) despite being clean shaven everywhere else (well, on his face anyway, I can't comment on the rest of his body. I don't want to think about it either given that like most of my customers he's a coffin dodger. Hmm, naked and shaved old men. Wow, they give me the right raging horn). The pirate part of the nickname is partly cos he's missing a finger (OK, it's not quite a peg-leg but it's close) but mostly cos Neckbeard the Pirate sounds cool.
Also, he's got a parrot, says "Arrrr" frequently and immediately buries his pension on a desert island once he's got it *.
*this sentence may contain lies.
Also, he's got a parrot, says "Arrrr" frequently and immediately buries his pension on a desert island once he's got it *.
*this sentence may contain lies.
My new till sucks arse
As you may have guessed already, I'm less than pleased with my new till. After only a few weeks of having it, it came up with an error message saying that it's transaction record memory was full. Naturally, this was just before the school rush was just about to start. My colleague, who normally mans the till, and I pored through the instruction manual (which I may have already mentioned before, is crap). We downloaded as much sales data as we could onto my laptop and the cleared the sales data on the till. Crisis averted. Or was it?
After the rush had died down, my colleague decided to show some initiative. Oh dear. He noticed in the manual that you can re-allocate the memory between the products, the sales journal and a few other things. He decides that this would be a terribly clever idea to do and then goes ahead and does it.
Sadly, nowhere in the manual does it mention that by doing this, you will blank ALL of the memory. All of it. The lot. Everything. Not just the sales data but the product and price list, the receipt layout and, most embuggering of all, the keyboard set-up. Some of these were backed up on my PC but the keyboard was not. Therefore the rest of Friday and Saturday morning was spent with the buttons on the till not necessarily doing what they were labelled to do.
It's a good job that I love nothing more* than wasting, I mean spending my weekends (far too short at only Saturday afternoon and Sunday) dicking around with technology that was set up nearly perfectly already but has just been buggered up by a combination of a shit manual and an overenthusiastic colleague. This task was made all the more fun by the manual. It might be labouring an already well made point but I feel the need to point out again that the manual is fucking shit. Awful. Irredeemably cunting terrible. I reckon it was probably written deliberately to annoy and confuse new owners of the till. There's no other explanation for such a God-awful abortion. As I've already pointed out, it can't be me being stupid. I am unfeasibly clever after all. I've also managed to write instructions for items of kit much more complicated that a till and managed to have complete novices follow said instructions without problems. It really does get on my tits.
*warning, this bit is a lie.
After the rush had died down, my colleague decided to show some initiative. Oh dear. He noticed in the manual that you can re-allocate the memory between the products, the sales journal and a few other things. He decides that this would be a terribly clever idea to do and then goes ahead and does it.
Sadly, nowhere in the manual does it mention that by doing this, you will blank ALL of the memory. All of it. The lot. Everything. Not just the sales data but the product and price list, the receipt layout and, most embuggering of all, the keyboard set-up. Some of these were backed up on my PC but the keyboard was not. Therefore the rest of Friday and Saturday morning was spent with the buttons on the till not necessarily doing what they were labelled to do.
It's a good job that I love nothing more* than wasting, I mean spending my weekends (far too short at only Saturday afternoon and Sunday) dicking around with technology that was set up nearly perfectly already but has just been buggered up by a combination of a shit manual and an overenthusiastic colleague. This task was made all the more fun by the manual. It might be labouring an already well made point but I feel the need to point out again that the manual is fucking shit. Awful. Irredeemably cunting terrible. I reckon it was probably written deliberately to annoy and confuse new owners of the till. There's no other explanation for such a God-awful abortion. As I've already pointed out, it can't be me being stupid. I am unfeasibly clever after all. I've also managed to write instructions for items of kit much more complicated that a till and managed to have complete novices follow said instructions without problems. It really does get on my tits.
*warning, this bit is a lie.
Wednesday, 21 November 2007
Regulars - Scatty Scott
Scott's a funny one and no mistake. He's not even got the excuse of being particularly old (mid 50's or so). He's managed to get himself on practically every sucker list in the UK and the USA and Canada. As a result, he gets so much mail that he likes to come and collect it from us every morning rather than wait for it to be delivered. He claims that it's cos it takes him all day to sort through his mail sometimes. Whenever he receives a package (about once a fortnight on average) he acts all surprised. "Ooh, I wonder what this can be?!? I don't remember ordering anything!" He'll then open the package then and there as it's usually too large to get in his trolley (Yup, despite being relatively young, he's got a trolley. He's certainly off it. Boom Boom!). He'll then act surprised again at the contents of the package, "I didn't order that!" Yes you did you twat. Don't act all surprised at this rubbish you've bought please, it's embarrassing. It's usually vitamins or tat from betterware style places though. Nothing like some of the more interesting stuff that people have bought by mail order (Definitely a future post or two there).
Scott is also amazed that the companies won't stop mailing him with rubbish because he has written to most of them to ask them to stop. He doesn't realise that as far as they're concerned, he's just proved that he does live there and the mail is getting read. He'll then make it worse by ordering stuff from them occasionally.
When collecting his mail he'll say something along the lines of "Ooh, aren't I lucky. A small amount of mail today." But you just know that he's secretly really disappointed that he's not had enough mail to overload a pack donkey. Conversely, when he does get a truckload, he'll half-arsedly moan about it but you can see the twinkle in his eye as he ponders a whole morning of going through junkmail. Obviously, Bargain Hunt and Cash in the Attic aren't stimulating enough for him.
We have done our best to help him by pointing him in the direction of the mail preference service and telling him to just throw away anything that looks like junkmail and NEVER EVER reply to it. The mail preference service advice was a sort of hit. He signed up and then was flabbergasted that the junkmail didn't stop immediately. We did try to explain that it takes a few months to be really effective and doesn't work for foreign mail. Regrettably, he just can't bring himself to bin mail unopened and once he's opened it, he can't not reply to it or order rubbish.
Scott has something else which bugs the fuck out of me. He's perfectly healthy, he seems fairly fit, he's not old,he can walk perfectly well (he goes on the weekly walks around the village) but he has an invalid carriage. WHY?!?!?! I bloody well hate the things. It's my opinion that about 90% of the people that have them are either too lazy or too fat. Of the remaining 10%, most of them are too blind/stupid/deaf/mad or otherwise dangerous to use them. Bring back wheelchairs that have to be pushed by a competent person or, failing that, euthanasia. You know it makes sense.
Scotts' final foible is the speed that he seems to go through bus timetables. We have a small stock in the Post Office to give out. It's no exaggeration to say that he's had about 25% of all the ones we've given out. He goes through at least one a week. One morning (just the morning, not the whole day mind) he went through three. What does he do? Eat them? Why he can't just keep one in his wallet all the time, I don't know. They're not supposed to be disposable you know. Twat.
Scott is also amazed that the companies won't stop mailing him with rubbish because he has written to most of them to ask them to stop. He doesn't realise that as far as they're concerned, he's just proved that he does live there and the mail is getting read. He'll then make it worse by ordering stuff from them occasionally.
When collecting his mail he'll say something along the lines of "Ooh, aren't I lucky. A small amount of mail today." But you just know that he's secretly really disappointed that he's not had enough mail to overload a pack donkey. Conversely, when he does get a truckload, he'll half-arsedly moan about it but you can see the twinkle in his eye as he ponders a whole morning of going through junkmail. Obviously, Bargain Hunt and Cash in the Attic aren't stimulating enough for him.
We have done our best to help him by pointing him in the direction of the mail preference service and telling him to just throw away anything that looks like junkmail and NEVER EVER reply to it. The mail preference service advice was a sort of hit. He signed up and then was flabbergasted that the junkmail didn't stop immediately. We did try to explain that it takes a few months to be really effective and doesn't work for foreign mail. Regrettably, he just can't bring himself to bin mail unopened and once he's opened it, he can't not reply to it or order rubbish.
Scott has something else which bugs the fuck out of me. He's perfectly healthy, he seems fairly fit, he's not old,he can walk perfectly well (he goes on the weekly walks around the village) but he has an invalid carriage. WHY?!?!?! I bloody well hate the things. It's my opinion that about 90% of the people that have them are either too lazy or too fat. Of the remaining 10%, most of them are too blind/stupid/deaf/mad or otherwise dangerous to use them. Bring back wheelchairs that have to be pushed by a competent person or, failing that, euthanasia. You know it makes sense.
Scotts' final foible is the speed that he seems to go through bus timetables. We have a small stock in the Post Office to give out. It's no exaggeration to say that he's had about 25% of all the ones we've given out. He goes through at least one a week. One morning (just the morning, not the whole day mind) he went through three. What does he do? Eat them? Why he can't just keep one in his wallet all the time, I don't know. They're not supposed to be disposable you know. Twat.
Friday, 16 November 2007
The customer is always confuesd.
Yesterday we had an old fella (naturally) come in to see us. He came up to my colleague and asked for probably the weirdest thing that anyone has ever done in a Post Office.
"Could I cancel my appointment with the doctor tomorrow please?"
We were both a little thrown by this request so my colleague said pardon. He replied,
"Can I cancel my appointment with Dr Madeupname tomorrow please?"
"I think you're in the wrong place. This is the Post Office."
"The Post Office?!? OK."
"Yes, you're a little confused. What can we help you with?"
"I'd like to cancel my appointment with Dr Madeupname please. It's tomorrow."
"I'm sorry, This is the Post Office. You need to go to the doctor to do that."
After a little while we eventually got him to understand that although we can do a lot more than just stamps in the Post Office these days, accessing the doctor's appointment list wasn't one of them. Also, I'm no medical expert but in my opinion this guy should have been making more appointments to see the quack, not less. His head is obviously broken.
"Could I cancel my appointment with the doctor tomorrow please?"
We were both a little thrown by this request so my colleague said pardon. He replied,
"Can I cancel my appointment with Dr Madeupname tomorrow please?"
"I think you're in the wrong place. This is the Post Office."
"The Post Office?!? OK."
"Yes, you're a little confused. What can we help you with?"
"I'd like to cancel my appointment with Dr Madeupname please. It's tomorrow."
After a little while we eventually got him to understand that although we can do a lot more than just stamps in the Post Office these days, accessing the doctor's appointment list wasn't one of them. Also, I'm no medical expert but in my opinion this guy should have been making more appointments to see the quack, not less. His head is obviously broken.
Monday, 12 November 2007
Stuff that should be fairly easy but isn't.
I've spent much of the last two weeks doing two things that should be pretty easy (especially for someone as clever as I am. Modesty aside, I am really fucking clever. You'd best hope I never have any plans for world domination cos it'd be a piece of piss for someone as amazingly bright as I am. I just can't be arsed with all the work it would involve. You'd best cower in front of me just on the off chance I change my mind though).
Now that my gargantuan intelligence has been established beyond a shadow of a doubt, the things I've been trying to do are setting up a new swanky till and getting my head round some accounting software. Oh yes, I have decided to modernise. The old till was practically a relic from Arkwrights' shop. A replacement has been mooted for a while but became a priority when the motor for the receipt winder thingy died. Having to take the top off to manually crank round the spool before it started spewing paper all over the place was less than ideal. Some web-surfing and a few days later my posh new till complete with scanner and PC software turns up. The software boasted of having nearly 5,000 product codes already installed. "Excellent!" Thinks I, "That'll save me some time." Fat fucking chance. Only about 300 of these products are ones that I actually stock. Having 40 different varieties of Heinz soup must be great for some retailers but useless to me. Cue several hours of removing the pointless products and pricing up the things we do actually stock. DULL DULL DULL DULL FUCKING DULL. Trying to send this info from my laptop to the till proved to be even less fun. I'll spare you the details but suffice to say, a whole valuable Saturday afternoon was totally wasted. Fucknuts!!! Even fairly basic stuff proved to be nigh-on impossible due to a combination of a piss-poor instruction manual (I may be astonishingly clever and able to pick up new skills really quickly with minimal help but that also means I'm clever enough to RTFM*. As Buddha said "The first step to wisdom is realising how little you know" At least I think it was Buddha. It might have been Fat Mike in the pub.) and deliberately obscure procedures made this a nightmare. Example, to tell it to keep a printed journal of all the transactions instead of printing out receipts, you have to:
turn the key to pgm
press "SBTL"
Look up the journal entry in the manual (made even more tricky due to lack of index)
type in the number pertaining to the journal
press "X/time"
decide how you'd like the journal (small/regular font size, journal on or off etc)
add up the numbers assigned to each option.
input that number
press "CASH"
On the old till, it was a case of flicking a switch from receipt to journal. Progress eh?
Eventually, I got the things talking and sent over the products codes that were useful. Next came the task of programming all the bar codes of the things I do actually stock but weren't already pre-programmed. You'd have thought that the till designers would have made this procedure as easy as possible. Nope. It's initially complicated and time-consuming. Cue another whole weekend being swallowed up by this project. Even after that, only about 25% of my stock is programmed in. Fortunately one of my staff members is happy enough and competent enough to carry on with this task. Phew! With any luck it'll only be about three weeks from delivery to the point where I can state that the till is properly set up.
Modern technology eh? It allows you to do your job twice as quickly but generates twice as much fucking work. Don't get me wrong, I'm no Luddite. I love gadgets and gizmo's but fuck me ragged I swear most designers don't realise that the people who are going to use this kit aren't quite as familiar with it as they are.
Don't even get me started on the accounts software. I fear it may end up with a batshit crazy armed rampage.
* Read The Fucking Manual.
Now that my gargantuan intelligence has been established beyond a shadow of a doubt, the things I've been trying to do are setting up a new swanky till and getting my head round some accounting software. Oh yes, I have decided to modernise. The old till was practically a relic from Arkwrights' shop. A replacement has been mooted for a while but became a priority when the motor for the receipt winder thingy died. Having to take the top off to manually crank round the spool before it started spewing paper all over the place was less than ideal. Some web-surfing and a few days later my posh new till complete with scanner and PC software turns up. The software boasted of having nearly 5,000 product codes already installed. "Excellent!" Thinks I, "That'll save me some time." Fat fucking chance. Only about 300 of these products are ones that I actually stock. Having 40 different varieties of Heinz soup must be great for some retailers but useless to me. Cue several hours of removing the pointless products and pricing up the things we do actually stock. DULL DULL DULL DULL FUCKING DULL. Trying to send this info from my laptop to the till proved to be even less fun. I'll spare you the details but suffice to say, a whole valuable Saturday afternoon was totally wasted. Fucknuts!!! Even fairly basic stuff proved to be nigh-on impossible due to a combination of a piss-poor instruction manual (I may be astonishingly clever and able to pick up new skills really quickly with minimal help but that also means I'm clever enough to RTFM*. As Buddha said "The first step to wisdom is realising how little you know" At least I think it was Buddha. It might have been Fat Mike in the pub.) and deliberately obscure procedures made this a nightmare. Example, to tell it to keep a printed journal of all the transactions instead of printing out receipts, you have to:
turn the key to pgm
press "SBTL"
Look up the journal entry in the manual (made even more tricky due to lack of index)
type in the number pertaining to the journal
press "X/time"
decide how you'd like the journal (small/regular font size, journal on or off etc)
add up the numbers assigned to each option.
input that number
press "CASH"
On the old till, it was a case of flicking a switch from receipt to journal. Progress eh?
Eventually, I got the things talking and sent over the products codes that were useful. Next came the task of programming all the bar codes of the things I do actually stock but weren't already pre-programmed. You'd have thought that the till designers would have made this procedure as easy as possible. Nope. It's initially complicated and time-consuming. Cue another whole weekend being swallowed up by this project. Even after that, only about 25% of my stock is programmed in. Fortunately one of my staff members is happy enough and competent enough to carry on with this task. Phew! With any luck it'll only be about three weeks from delivery to the point where I can state that the till is properly set up.
Modern technology eh? It allows you to do your job twice as quickly but generates twice as much fucking work. Don't get me wrong, I'm no Luddite. I love gadgets and gizmo's but fuck me ragged I swear most designers don't realise that the people who are going to use this kit aren't quite as familiar with it as they are.
Don't even get me started on the accounts software. I fear it may end up with a batshit crazy armed rampage.
* Read The Fucking Manual.
Friday, 9 November 2007
Regulars- Norris McSquirter
Norris was originally nick-named "Schlup". However, when I found out that his first name actually is Norris, I couldn't resist changing his nickname post-haste. The reason for either nickname is due to the noise he continuously made as he redistributed spittle around his gob. It can be decidedly off-putting while attending to him only to hear a loud "Schurrrrllpppp" noise every two minutes or so. This, coupled with his old person habit of repeating everything he says three times, makes him an irritating customer. More irritating than normal I mean.
To pay lip-service to being fair and balanced I have to point out that, in certain respects, he's quite a good customer. ie. he spends a lot. Also, he doesn't appear to smell. Yet. It does appear to be a race between the grim reaper and the pong goblin for old folk. Currently Norris is keeping ahead of the pair of 'em.
To pay lip-service to being fair and balanced I have to point out that, in certain respects, he's quite a good customer. ie. he spends a lot. Also, he doesn't appear to smell. Yet. It does appear to be a race between the grim reaper and the pong goblin for old folk. Currently Norris is keeping ahead of the pair of 'em.
Tuesday, 6 November 2007
You'll have to speak up.
"You'll have to speak up, I'm a bit deaf and I've not got my hearing aid in".
WHY??? If you're deaf, you know you're deaf, you actually have got a hearing aid and you know you're going to be in a situation where conversation will occur, then why the fuck aren't you wearing it?!?!
It's sooooo common too.
I really don't know why so many old people do it. It's gotta be a toss-up between forgetfulness or denial of being old and useless. It really does drive me up the bloody wall sometimes. Fair enough, I do like shouting at customers but I'd rather it was abuse and orders to fuck off instead of the banal kinda crap I've gotta shout at these deafies. It's not restricted to hearing aids either. Probably more common (but admittedly less annoying) are the people who never have their reading glasses with them when they need to fill in a form or something. Hearing aids and glasses are not exactly completely critical items but they do kinda help people live their lives a bit. Personally I'm looking forward to the day when I hear someone say "You'll have to come and pick me up. I'm a paraplegic but I've not got my wheelchair." It's inevitable.
WHY??? If you're deaf, you know you're deaf, you actually have got a hearing aid and you know you're going to be in a situation where conversation will occur, then why the fuck aren't you wearing it?!?!
It's sooooo common too.
I really don't know why so many old people do it. It's gotta be a toss-up between forgetfulness or denial of being old and useless. It really does drive me up the bloody wall sometimes. Fair enough, I do like shouting at customers but I'd rather it was abuse and orders to fuck off instead of the banal kinda crap I've gotta shout at these deafies. It's not restricted to hearing aids either. Probably more common (but admittedly less annoying) are the people who never have their reading glasses with them when they need to fill in a form or something. Hearing aids and glasses are not exactly completely critical items but they do kinda help people live their lives a bit. Personally I'm looking forward to the day when I hear someone say "You'll have to come and pick me up. I'm a paraplegic but I've not got my wheelchair." It's inevitable.
Friday, 2 November 2007
Licking Harry Potter's backside.
Every month or so, we get sent a special issue of stamps to sell (Queen's anniversary, Queen's birthday, Queen's done a poo etc.). Normally we get about a thousand or so of the 1st class ones. This'll pretty well last us til the next lot come out. I'm a big fan of this cos we get paid a tad more for selling the piccie stamps and if we run out just before the next lot come out, I won't have to fill in the paperwork to send back the unsold ones (Hey, I'm lazy and it's an annoying convoluted process).
Unfortunately, Post Office ltd grossly overestimated the demand for the Potter stamps. They sent us over 3,000. This was in addition to the usual monthly releases as well. As a result I've had fucking Harry Potter stamps coming out of my arse. The launch date was the date of release of the last book. I can't remember exactly when that was and really can't be arsed to look it up (I refer you to my previous comment about being lazy). Suffice to say that it was a while ago and we've only just sold our 2000th Potter stamp.
Methinks someone higher up thought it would be a great moneyspinner for Post Office ltd to lig off the popularity of all things Hogwarty and sell a few million extra stamps to kiddy collectors. Especially if (Hah! Unlikely) they caught the philatelic bug and became lifelong collectors.
Ooops. That one went tits-up.
As a result, I'm trying to put these bloody things on anything I can possibly get away with in order to get the extra pay. There's a slim chance I'll be shot of 'em this side of Christmas.
Unfortunately, Post Office ltd grossly overestimated the demand for the Potter stamps. They sent us over 3,000. This was in addition to the usual monthly releases as well. As a result I've had fucking Harry Potter stamps coming out of my arse. The launch date was the date of release of the last book. I can't remember exactly when that was and really can't be arsed to look it up (I refer you to my previous comment about being lazy). Suffice to say that it was a while ago and we've only just sold our 2000th Potter stamp.
Methinks someone higher up thought it would be a great moneyspinner for Post Office ltd to lig off the popularity of all things Hogwarty and sell a few million extra stamps to kiddy collectors. Especially if (Hah! Unlikely) they caught the philatelic bug and became lifelong collectors.
Ooops. That one went tits-up.
As a result, I'm trying to put these bloody things on anything I can possibly get away with in order to get the extra pay. There's a slim chance I'll be shot of 'em this side of Christmas.
Thursday, 1 November 2007
Wibble-wobble
Hideously obese people make me laugh sometimes. It's amazing that some of these fatties are so ignorant of what they're doing to themselves that they'll complain about being out of breath after the 50 yard waddle they've had from the car and then buy a metric shitload of chocolate/sweets/crisps. Then to pay lip service to "healthy" eating, they'll grab a bottle of diet coke too.
First of all tubby, perhaps if you walked the few hundred yards (I know where you live you lazy bastard) from your house instead of driving you'd be less wheezy.
Secondly, drinking diet drinks does not magically remove all of the calories from the family size choccy bar and large tube of pringles you're no doubt going to shove into your gob as soon as you get home.
Thirdly, saying something along the lines of "Oooh, I know I shouldn't but...." doesn't excuse you. If you know you shouldn't eat for three people then why are you?
Finally, the worst offender of the lot is the blubberguts who does all the above and the adds "I know I shouldn't eat this stuff, I'm diabetic." It's surprisingly common sadly.
Obviously, this is a bit on the hypocritical side as I'm not waif-like myself and I'm selling this stuff. If it's any consolation, I have put up the prices of junk food in order to reduce the amount that these fatties can afford*. My own fat-tax if you like. This works especially well with the kiddies. Children invariably have a limited amount of cash to spend each day. Needless to say, saving this cash isn't on the agenda so they do their best to spend the lot. To the penny. It can takes ages for some kids to work out how to spend their one pound exactly. This is why having a few penny sweets is a great money spinner. They wouldn't normally look twice at this sort of thing but if they've got 3p left over, then by god they're going to spend it on something. I'd hate to have to deal with these kids while in the middle of a full blown sugar-rush. Hyperactive bastards. Even worse must be the aftermath of energy drink consumption. Yup, I'll sell Red Bull to kids. If they can afford it. I charge a shitload.
*Prices of non-junk food put up too. And everything else in the shop actually. Hey, I gotta make a living.
First of all tubby, perhaps if you walked the few hundred yards (I know where you live you lazy bastard) from your house instead of driving you'd be less wheezy.
Secondly, drinking diet drinks does not magically remove all of the calories from the family size choccy bar and large tube of pringles you're no doubt going to shove into your gob as soon as you get home.
Thirdly, saying something along the lines of "Oooh, I know I shouldn't but...." doesn't excuse you. If you know you shouldn't eat for three people then why are you?
Finally, the worst offender of the lot is the blubberguts who does all the above and the adds "I know I shouldn't eat this stuff, I'm diabetic." It's surprisingly common sadly.
Obviously, this is a bit on the hypocritical side as I'm not waif-like myself and I'm selling this stuff. If it's any consolation, I have put up the prices of junk food in order to reduce the amount that these fatties can afford*. My own fat-tax if you like. This works especially well with the kiddies. Children invariably have a limited amount of cash to spend each day. Needless to say, saving this cash isn't on the agenda so they do their best to spend the lot. To the penny. It can takes ages for some kids to work out how to spend their one pound exactly. This is why having a few penny sweets is a great money spinner. They wouldn't normally look twice at this sort of thing but if they've got 3p left over, then by god they're going to spend it on something. I'd hate to have to deal with these kids while in the middle of a full blown sugar-rush. Hyperactive bastards. Even worse must be the aftermath of energy drink consumption. Yup, I'll sell Red Bull to kids. If they can afford it. I charge a shitload.
*Prices of non-junk food put up too. And everything else in the shop actually. Hey, I gotta make a living.
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