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How can you oversleep on your day off?
May. 21st, 2007 04:25 amI just spent the last half an hour or so trying to come up with a reply to an incredibly stupid thread elsewhere. Finally I realized that I think the person who posed the question is a dumb ass of the highest order and is incredibly lucky that I can't press a button and have a hammer fall on their toe. Just as I was ready to wash my hands of the nonsense, I managed to get the reply box to open and commented in as snooty a voice as I could possibly manage this morning.
With that out of the way, it's story time!
While in the bathroom Saturday night, I heard this couple kind of stumble into the hallway outside the bathrooms. The girl tells her boy toy to hold on a second and then she wanders into the bathroom, finds her way into the other stall, and a minute later I hear, "Babe? Could you *giggle* come in here?" Uh... hey. There's someone else in here, oh drunk one! Boy toy comes in and luckily all she wanted was a roll of toilet paper, which wasn't too hard for him to find, what with them being right by the sink. He leaves and turns out the light for a second, she freaks and giggles all at once, I roll my eyes back into my skull... When she leaves she doesn't flush [ick] and she turns out the light. So maybe I should have said something, but still. I wasn't aware you were supposed to say hullo to whomever is in the next stall. Meh.
This was later topped by what sounded like a little old lady who called in around 7:30 in the morning. She, like all too many people in this stupid world, seems to believe that if you work in a drugstore, you are a pharmacist. I work the front register, bitches. I don't know a damn thing about which meds you shouldn't take after your coke binge, or which ones will kill you if mixed together. I will happily point you to the pharmacy, transfer your call, or hunt down the actual pharmacist if need be, but if you wanted to talk to the pharmacist, you should have pressed the proper button when the automated thing told you to the first SIX times. Okay?
So the little old lady calls, and proceeds to tell me how god awfully she's constipated.
Uh. Huh. Okay. Then she gives me this huge long list of things she's done to alleviate this problem. I was distracted somewhere after tons of coffee followed by an awful lot of hot water. I came back around when she then proposed her BRILLIANT plan. Would I be a dear and run and get her a box of Kotex because she doesn't know when her long list of remedies will kick in, dontcha know, and then she could just drive around to the drive through part of the pharmacy and it would all work out. Which is a fine idea, except she then went on about how she wanted the largest box [they. don't. do. boxes.] we had, and with this in mind, I transfer her back to pharmacy, because they alone would know if what she wants would fit through the little... thing they have. Most people are getting at most a small bundle of pill bottles, they aren't trying to send a small animal through there, y'know? Ten minutes pass, and I figure they've settled it all nice and lovely.
Then the phone rings, and I know it's her, despite the fact that now all the phone calls ring exactly the same way. It's the pharmacist and he asks, kind of unsure of himself, "Are you, uh, getting something for a customer? Because we've been waiting and..." Um, now I have a line that will not go away, but I don't say that [he'd have to be deaf to not hear it], so I ask if what she wants will fit, as I know in the past some of the other requests are just not physically possible. He says, "Well, she says it'll work." ...Of course she says that! She doesn't want to get out of her car in case there's an accident, or hell, maybe she just wants someone else to shop for her. Still, I tell him it's okay to transfer her back to me, so I can see if there's a specific thing she wants. He does, she does, and I say I'll have it back in pharmacy in two minutes. I've been ringing people's stuff up this whole time, by the way. She then says, "Oh, okay, I'll be there in oh, maybe ten minutes." So. I finish with the last guy who can't seem to figure out how to work the credit card machine [so difficult!], and I take off practically running for the back of aisle three. I debate giving her exactly what she asked for versus what will actually be physically possible for her evil plan. I scurry to pharmacy, pass it off to the pharmacist, and haul ass back to the front register, because it gets busy Sunday mornings after 7:30. Where I damn near run over the manager, the pharmacy tech, and the 8am pharmacist, all of whom could have done this little errand for me. *headdesk* Right before I'm about to leave, this woman who was, at most, fifty-ish, comes in and asks for the enemas and the Kotex. I realize that it is our not so little old lady, who completely ignores my directions. *headdesk the second* Oi.
Passed out earlier and must have slept through dinner. Certainly slept right on through GG and DH [crap!] and didn't wake up until after one in the morning. I almost never do that. If I got up at all, I didn't remember it, and it's a little weird for me to sleep for nine hours without at least sort of coming to for something, particularly when it involves dinner time. Sort of like when you're little and your parents wake you enough to move you back to your room, but you don't remember a single thing.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I should clean up a little. I promised to do so a few days ago and now seems as good a time as any. When I return, rants and why some assembly required is evil. I have newfound respect for my parents.
But before I go, this little aww moment:
My brother is a... questionable father. I have absolutely no doubt he loves his son, but he's still firmly in that selfish bastard stage. Widget was here this weekend, but instead of the boy going to get him on Friday [he didn't have to work], he waited until Saturday afternoon. The parental units discussed this and how it wasn't exactly warm fuzzy making, and my father said that if he and mumsy had split, he would have shown up for his Daddy time the absolute earliest he possibly could have and kept us as long as he was able.
With that out of the way, it's story time!
While in the bathroom Saturday night, I heard this couple kind of stumble into the hallway outside the bathrooms. The girl tells her boy toy to hold on a second and then she wanders into the bathroom, finds her way into the other stall, and a minute later I hear, "Babe? Could you *giggle* come in here?" Uh... hey. There's someone else in here, oh drunk one! Boy toy comes in and luckily all she wanted was a roll of toilet paper, which wasn't too hard for him to find, what with them being right by the sink. He leaves and turns out the light for a second, she freaks and giggles all at once, I roll my eyes back into my skull... When she leaves she doesn't flush [ick] and she turns out the light. So maybe I should have said something, but still. I wasn't aware you were supposed to say hullo to whomever is in the next stall. Meh.
This was later topped by what sounded like a little old lady who called in around 7:30 in the morning. She, like all too many people in this stupid world, seems to believe that if you work in a drugstore, you are a pharmacist. I work the front register, bitches. I don't know a damn thing about which meds you shouldn't take after your coke binge, or which ones will kill you if mixed together. I will happily point you to the pharmacy, transfer your call, or hunt down the actual pharmacist if need be, but if you wanted to talk to the pharmacist, you should have pressed the proper button when the automated thing told you to the first SIX times. Okay?
So the little old lady calls, and proceeds to tell me how god awfully she's constipated.
Uh. Huh. Okay. Then she gives me this huge long list of things she's done to alleviate this problem. I was distracted somewhere after tons of coffee followed by an awful lot of hot water. I came back around when she then proposed her BRILLIANT plan. Would I be a dear and run and get her a box of Kotex because she doesn't know when her long list of remedies will kick in, dontcha know, and then she could just drive around to the drive through part of the pharmacy and it would all work out. Which is a fine idea, except she then went on about how she wanted the largest box [they. don't. do. boxes.] we had, and with this in mind, I transfer her back to pharmacy, because they alone would know if what she wants would fit through the little... thing they have. Most people are getting at most a small bundle of pill bottles, they aren't trying to send a small animal through there, y'know? Ten minutes pass, and I figure they've settled it all nice and lovely.
Then the phone rings, and I know it's her, despite the fact that now all the phone calls ring exactly the same way. It's the pharmacist and he asks, kind of unsure of himself, "Are you, uh, getting something for a customer? Because we've been waiting and..." Um, now I have a line that will not go away, but I don't say that [he'd have to be deaf to not hear it], so I ask if what she wants will fit, as I know in the past some of the other requests are just not physically possible. He says, "Well, she says it'll work." ...Of course she says that! She doesn't want to get out of her car in case there's an accident, or hell, maybe she just wants someone else to shop for her. Still, I tell him it's okay to transfer her back to me, so I can see if there's a specific thing she wants. He does, she does, and I say I'll have it back in pharmacy in two minutes. I've been ringing people's stuff up this whole time, by the way. She then says, "Oh, okay, I'll be there in oh, maybe ten minutes." So. I finish with the last guy who can't seem to figure out how to work the credit card machine [so difficult!], and I take off practically running for the back of aisle three. I debate giving her exactly what she asked for versus what will actually be physically possible for her evil plan. I scurry to pharmacy, pass it off to the pharmacist, and haul ass back to the front register, because it gets busy Sunday mornings after 7:30. Where I damn near run over the manager, the pharmacy tech, and the 8am pharmacist, all of whom could have done this little errand for me. *headdesk* Right before I'm about to leave, this woman who was, at most, fifty-ish, comes in and asks for the enemas and the Kotex. I realize that it is our not so little old lady, who completely ignores my directions. *headdesk the second* Oi.
Passed out earlier and must have slept through dinner. Certainly slept right on through GG and DH [crap!] and didn't wake up until after one in the morning. I almost never do that. If I got up at all, I didn't remember it, and it's a little weird for me to sleep for nine hours without at least sort of coming to for something, particularly when it involves dinner time. Sort of like when you're little and your parents wake you enough to move you back to your room, but you don't remember a single thing.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I should clean up a little. I promised to do so a few days ago and now seems as good a time as any. When I return, rants and why some assembly required is evil. I have newfound respect for my parents.
But before I go, this little aww moment:
My brother is a... questionable father. I have absolutely no doubt he loves his son, but he's still firmly in that selfish bastard stage. Widget was here this weekend, but instead of the boy going to get him on Friday [he didn't have to work], he waited until Saturday afternoon. The parental units discussed this and how it wasn't exactly warm fuzzy making, and my father said that if he and mumsy had split, he would have shown up for his Daddy time the absolute earliest he possibly could have and kept us as long as he was able.
