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i never mean quite what I say
May. 7th, 2007 10:15 amAlmost 5am, I'm waiting around at the front of the store for the pharmacist to come by so I can ring his stuff up. Kathleen's walking out the door and someone else walks in. The next thing I know, there's this guy standing right next to me, mumbling something I still can't figure out. I turn to ask what he said and then the world freezes. Complete silence in my head other than the cartoon me [people are cartoons in my head, myself included] screaming bloody blue murder. Dude is twitchier than twitchy has a right to be, and in his left pocket, he has a gun of some sort. He makes with the, "move, or I'll shoot you" type threats. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he wants zee money. Only problem is, you can't just ask, "oi, you want the safe or just the register?" Luckily, no such translation needed. We're headed to the office. Ten steps later, we cross paths with the pharmacist. I should point out that GWG [guy with gun] is thoughtfully letting me walk just enough ahead that I'm not sure where exactly he is. GWG says to pharmacist, "Alright, you too. Come on." To which pharmacist doesn't seem to hear him because GWG really needs to work on enunciating, okay? Seriously, if you're going to rob someone or a store, however you want to look at it, you should speak clearly so they don't waste precious seconds wondering what the fuck you just said. However, it's not like they give you a comment sheet after the robbery so they can work on their skills. Pity.
We were at the pharmacy crossing. GWG gets a little agitated and I can't help but say, "James," in this very un-me sort of voice. If you subscribe to the theory that with one word you can actually say so much more, that would be, "Please don't annoy the guy with a gun and get us all killed, please?" If not, well, that's all I could say because if I left my mouth open any longer, I started swearing. This became obvious a minute later when we got to the door to the various employee only rooms. I punch in the code, mind still screaming "ohshitohshitohshit!" and go to open it. The damn thing won't open. This pisses GWG off who begins to pick up the threats of violence. In fact, this is the ONLY time I can fully understand what he's saying. Basically, open the fucking door before I fucking shoot you all and kick the door down myself. Right, cuz you're so big and bad, my shorter than me little wimp. I mean, really. Anyway, I get the door to open and we all push through and he's back to mumbling and it's like he's sure that either James or I could open the safe, which we totally can't. Fortunately [?] management saw the whole effing thing through the office window. So he got to say the phrase I've always wanted to say on the phone. "Gotta go, we're being robbed." Not that I was there for that, but whatever. He'd opened the safe and GWG pretty much kneels next to him and starts grabbing for the money. He declines the offer of a bag [so rude] and when he's disappointed by his loot, management asks, "Do you want quarters?" Totally not being a smart ass for once, but about that time my brain stopped screaming. GWG scoops up the money he's carelessly let slip to the floor and then runs like hell. Which is still STUPID because the next door is like, half a second away and CLOSED. It's not like it opens outward either, so you've pretty much run into a wall. Or a door, I suppose. I gather he wasn't thinking that far, as after he opened the door he sent the chip display crashing to the ground. Not that I knew this at the time, I just heard a crash. So I'm freaking out still, as the panic button is being pressed and then Management goes to peek out the door to see if GWG is gone and if they can see Kathleen. While he's doing that, James and I both call 911. [dead cells are good for that, at least.]
Now here's the problem. Given how long it took for the cops to show up, it boggles the mind. Seriously. Watch, you'll see.
After enough time has passed for James to give an extremely detailed description of GWG as well as the night's events, we're told the cops are at the door. We all file out of the office, which is when I notice the chip display. Why? Because one has to climb over it to get out. I also notice the salsa on the floor and for a fraction of a second my brain didn't understand that it was salsa. Everyone goes outside, touching nothing, and each of us is looking for Kathleen. She's nowhere to be found. We're outside and the bathroom and breakroom have been checked. No sign. Not in her car. Where is she? It's really dark outside still, and I'm starting to panic, but it's not like I can be obvious in the panic. That'd ruin the cool. *snort* Anyway, I point out that sometimes she goes to the gas station across the street. So a cop runs over and when she comes out of the store, I think, "Thank you, God." Or whichever deity was passing through at that moment.
Now, here's the part where I cannot understand WTF. Kathleen realized what was happening and ran across the street to the gas station and had them call 911. So, considering that would have been DURING the robbery, why the HELL did it take so long for them to get there?
Perhaps I'm cranky because we spent the next three hours outside. I was fingerprinted shortly before 8am, and I was supposed to have gotten off work at 6am.
Oh, and upon reaching the office, I couldn't help but repeatedly say, "Shitshitshitshitshit!" Um, in case he missed the part where we were being robbed by a twitchy sort, or possibly because you try being followed by someone who keeps threatening to shoot you. It's just not something that sits well with me.
Need a new job. Don't know what I want other than to not be held up. Which is helpful as it rules out more time spent in gas stations, banks, and chech cashing sorts of places. As a matter of not going there, we'll also rule out grocery stores, anywhere in the godforsaken mall, and yeah, that's about when my head explodes. Honestly, if I could wrap my head around the cult of Verizon, I'd totally give it a shot. But anywhere that requires you to schedule your sick days in advance? No. Just... no.
That was my Friday. We had a moment Saturday where this guy kept trying to get me to stand near him and I just wouldn't. It's possible he didn't believe I could read what he was pointing out, but he was crowding my personal space and was just off, if only in my head. Later that morning, this cute, but unconventionally so, but I'm pretty sure other people would back me up on the cuteness factor and possibly up it to hot, asked for my phone number after flirting with me. [I didn't recognize it as flirting as such until the number bit] Total ego boost, although for some reason, he found it funny that I politely declined [gimme a reason here, Ryan] and ended with, "Thank you though." Dude, it should be obvious, big dork am I.
But I'm still twitchier than I would like to be. Could it be my days off yet? Please? I'm in need of fluff. And milkshakes. That's the cure, right there.
To round this out, a little bit of trivia: When grabbing your hoodie from the box it's been lying in for the last month, the moment you realize there shouldn't be a scratchy place because it doesn't have a tag? Disgusting! Scratchy surface was *twitches* a palmetto bug. It's bad enough to see them, let alone touch them. With your hand. EW.
*snuggles*
We were at the pharmacy crossing. GWG gets a little agitated and I can't help but say, "James," in this very un-me sort of voice. If you subscribe to the theory that with one word you can actually say so much more, that would be, "Please don't annoy the guy with a gun and get us all killed, please?" If not, well, that's all I could say because if I left my mouth open any longer, I started swearing. This became obvious a minute later when we got to the door to the various employee only rooms. I punch in the code, mind still screaming "ohshitohshitohshit!" and go to open it. The damn thing won't open. This pisses GWG off who begins to pick up the threats of violence. In fact, this is the ONLY time I can fully understand what he's saying. Basically, open the fucking door before I fucking shoot you all and kick the door down myself. Right, cuz you're so big and bad, my shorter than me little wimp. I mean, really. Anyway, I get the door to open and we all push through and he's back to mumbling and it's like he's sure that either James or I could open the safe, which we totally can't. Fortunately [?] management saw the whole effing thing through the office window. So he got to say the phrase I've always wanted to say on the phone. "Gotta go, we're being robbed." Not that I was there for that, but whatever. He'd opened the safe and GWG pretty much kneels next to him and starts grabbing for the money. He declines the offer of a bag [so rude] and when he's disappointed by his loot, management asks, "Do you want quarters?" Totally not being a smart ass for once, but about that time my brain stopped screaming. GWG scoops up the money he's carelessly let slip to the floor and then runs like hell. Which is still STUPID because the next door is like, half a second away and CLOSED. It's not like it opens outward either, so you've pretty much run into a wall. Or a door, I suppose. I gather he wasn't thinking that far, as after he opened the door he sent the chip display crashing to the ground. Not that I knew this at the time, I just heard a crash. So I'm freaking out still, as the panic button is being pressed and then Management goes to peek out the door to see if GWG is gone and if they can see Kathleen. While he's doing that, James and I both call 911. [dead cells are good for that, at least.]
Now here's the problem. Given how long it took for the cops to show up, it boggles the mind. Seriously. Watch, you'll see.
After enough time has passed for James to give an extremely detailed description of GWG as well as the night's events, we're told the cops are at the door. We all file out of the office, which is when I notice the chip display. Why? Because one has to climb over it to get out. I also notice the salsa on the floor and for a fraction of a second my brain didn't understand that it was salsa. Everyone goes outside, touching nothing, and each of us is looking for Kathleen. She's nowhere to be found. We're outside and the bathroom and breakroom have been checked. No sign. Not in her car. Where is she? It's really dark outside still, and I'm starting to panic, but it's not like I can be obvious in the panic. That'd ruin the cool. *snort* Anyway, I point out that sometimes she goes to the gas station across the street. So a cop runs over and when she comes out of the store, I think, "Thank you, God." Or whichever deity was passing through at that moment.
Now, here's the part where I cannot understand WTF. Kathleen realized what was happening and ran across the street to the gas station and had them call 911. So, considering that would have been DURING the robbery, why the HELL did it take so long for them to get there?
Perhaps I'm cranky because we spent the next three hours outside. I was fingerprinted shortly before 8am, and I was supposed to have gotten off work at 6am.
Oh, and upon reaching the office, I couldn't help but repeatedly say, "Shitshitshitshitshit!" Um, in case he missed the part where we were being robbed by a twitchy sort, or possibly because you try being followed by someone who keeps threatening to shoot you. It's just not something that sits well with me.
Need a new job. Don't know what I want other than to not be held up. Which is helpful as it rules out more time spent in gas stations, banks, and chech cashing sorts of places. As a matter of not going there, we'll also rule out grocery stores, anywhere in the godforsaken mall, and yeah, that's about when my head explodes. Honestly, if I could wrap my head around the cult of Verizon, I'd totally give it a shot. But anywhere that requires you to schedule your sick days in advance? No. Just... no.
That was my Friday. We had a moment Saturday where this guy kept trying to get me to stand near him and I just wouldn't. It's possible he didn't believe I could read what he was pointing out, but he was crowding my personal space and was just off, if only in my head. Later that morning, this cute, but unconventionally so, but I'm pretty sure other people would back me up on the cuteness factor and possibly up it to hot, asked for my phone number after flirting with me. [I didn't recognize it as flirting as such until the number bit] Total ego boost, although for some reason, he found it funny that I politely declined [gimme a reason here, Ryan] and ended with, "Thank you though." Dude, it should be obvious, big dork am I.
But I'm still twitchier than I would like to be. Could it be my days off yet? Please? I'm in need of fluff. And milkshakes. That's the cure, right there.
To round this out, a little bit of trivia: When grabbing your hoodie from the box it's been lying in for the last month, the moment you realize there shouldn't be a scratchy place because it doesn't have a tag? Disgusting! Scratchy surface was *twitches* a palmetto bug. It's bad enough to see them, let alone touch them. With your hand. EW.
*snuggles*
