This was posted in another forum by somebody else. I found it highly amusing. Enjoy.
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Samantha (not her real name), ever since I came to be a guest service manager at my small software and movie store, has been nothing but terrible to me. She's a large girl whose negative attitude is as apparent as her caboose. She's mean to customers, and routinely passes off her job duties onto me. Because I work alternately as cashier and manager, on some shifts, I am subordinate to her. She loves this. My boss no longer schedules us together for this very reason.
The store hates her. Every last person there hates her. For example, she once wrote me up because she claimed I left a mess after my shift. I ripped it up in front of my boss. He laughed harder than I did.
My hatred toward her pales in comparison to her fiance. We'll call him Brian. Brian is a pockmarked computer science major whose routine suspenders and above-navel waistband routine almost make you think he's like a white Urkel. However, Urkel wasn't a rapist. That's not an allegation I throw around lightly; this guy has an air of drama around him. Curiously, many girls get drunk off of a curiously small number of drinks in his presence, then end up accusing him of taking advantage of them. One such girl was a good friend of mine. It threw her two-year relationship into turmoil and caused much drama.
There was a lot of drama for me; because I'm friends with an accuser, she thinks I'm out to sabotage her and her sweetie. That couldn't be further from the truth. I hope that they are in each other's hideous, black-blooded and bile-spewing presence until death do they part, at which point I'm praying they haven't bred before they are netted from the gene pool. I hope he has to be forever limited to a tiny sliver of the bed they share because she won't stop shoveling food. I hope she always has to think twice before kissing his face, lest she get ahold of a whitehead. They deserve each other.
Today, though, it all reached a wondrous crescendo.
At about 3 o'clock today, I found a new voicemail message on my charging cell phone. The phone had been on silent, left alone from the previous night, so I didn't even hear the original call. Curious, I call my voicemail. Much to my disappointment, I hear the voice of Samantha. In her typically nasally, whiny voice that always sounds like it comes from the beginning of a life-threatening illness or the conclusion of a funeral, she left a long message about how she needed someone to work her shift for her today because she was an emotional mess. Being that said shift began two hours ago, I worked this evening, and it was Samantha who was asking me for a favor, I ignored the call. She routinely asks me for favors, and I routinely ignore them. She hasn't gotten the point.
I arrived at the store at 6 o'clock tonight, where I am greeted with an especially bitchy and emotional Samantha. I didn't ask. I didn't care to know. Had I known how wonderful her misery was, I would have been listening like a twelve-year old girl at a slumber party. While Samantha stood doing nothing, a common occurrence, my co-worker and I were cutting up about various things. He asked me about how my saving up for my XBox 360 was going.
At this, Samantha turns to me, tears in her eyes, and spits out, "I don't want to hear about your 360!" She then returns her vacant stare away from me, quite possibly wondering how peanuts get in the shells or something equally poignant.
My co-worker and I looked at each other, trying to grasp what the hell just transpired. We're afraid to ask, because once you get Samantha talking about her problems, she will never shut up. Before I could decide whether or not to let her keep going, she turned and indulged me with an explanation.
"My fiance..." She paused. I leaned forward, knowing that this was going to be good. "He... he promised me to go ring shopping today. We've had this planned and saved up for since November." Okay, so he stood her up. At least this time he wasn't caught with his meat whistle in a drunk sorority girl.
I had to ask. "What made him change his mind?"
"Well, he... he calls me up last night and tells me he can't go shopping today. I say 'Okay, when can we go?' He told me that we couldn't go because he had to spend the money. I asked what he had to spend it on... that bastard went out and got an Xbox 360 with our engagement ring money."
Words escaped me. My co-worker was equally silent. He spent their engagement ring money on a 360. Both of their money. Before the inevitable laughter could escape me and my co-worker, we left her standing there and just walked away briskly. Her hands on her hips, she looked at us, trying to understand what we were doing as we walked away upon the conclusion of her tragic story. We got to the cafe section of the store before we lost it.
That did not stop her, though. She proceeded to tell customer after customer about her tragic tale. All of them had the same reaction; some didn't make it to the door before laughing aloud. Samantha stared each time, puzzled why they didn't think it was as serious as she did. Her tragic tale of love thrown into woe over video games did not elicit the sweet pity she's always looking for.
She left and went home an hour later. Everyone else working the store for the rest of the night would burst out into random fits of laughter, knowing how much she had the fiance she deserved.
I can only hope that, like all other great engagement stories, it is a harbinger of the times to come for both of them.
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Samantha (not her real name), ever since I came to be a guest service manager at my small software and movie store, has been nothing but terrible to me. She's a large girl whose negative attitude is as apparent as her caboose. She's mean to customers, and routinely passes off her job duties onto me. Because I work alternately as cashier and manager, on some shifts, I am subordinate to her. She loves this. My boss no longer schedules us together for this very reason.
The store hates her. Every last person there hates her. For example, she once wrote me up because she claimed I left a mess after my shift. I ripped it up in front of my boss. He laughed harder than I did.
My hatred toward her pales in comparison to her fiance. We'll call him Brian. Brian is a pockmarked computer science major whose routine suspenders and above-navel waistband routine almost make you think he's like a white Urkel. However, Urkel wasn't a rapist. That's not an allegation I throw around lightly; this guy has an air of drama around him. Curiously, many girls get drunk off of a curiously small number of drinks in his presence, then end up accusing him of taking advantage of them. One such girl was a good friend of mine. It threw her two-year relationship into turmoil and caused much drama.
There was a lot of drama for me; because I'm friends with an accuser, she thinks I'm out to sabotage her and her sweetie. That couldn't be further from the truth. I hope that they are in each other's hideous, black-blooded and bile-spewing presence until death do they part, at which point I'm praying they haven't bred before they are netted from the gene pool. I hope he has to be forever limited to a tiny sliver of the bed they share because she won't stop shoveling food. I hope she always has to think twice before kissing his face, lest she get ahold of a whitehead. They deserve each other.
Today, though, it all reached a wondrous crescendo.
At about 3 o'clock today, I found a new voicemail message on my charging cell phone. The phone had been on silent, left alone from the previous night, so I didn't even hear the original call. Curious, I call my voicemail. Much to my disappointment, I hear the voice of Samantha. In her typically nasally, whiny voice that always sounds like it comes from the beginning of a life-threatening illness or the conclusion of a funeral, she left a long message about how she needed someone to work her shift for her today because she was an emotional mess. Being that said shift began two hours ago, I worked this evening, and it was Samantha who was asking me for a favor, I ignored the call. She routinely asks me for favors, and I routinely ignore them. She hasn't gotten the point.
I arrived at the store at 6 o'clock tonight, where I am greeted with an especially bitchy and emotional Samantha. I didn't ask. I didn't care to know. Had I known how wonderful her misery was, I would have been listening like a twelve-year old girl at a slumber party. While Samantha stood doing nothing, a common occurrence, my co-worker and I were cutting up about various things. He asked me about how my saving up for my XBox 360 was going.
At this, Samantha turns to me, tears in her eyes, and spits out, "I don't want to hear about your 360!" She then returns her vacant stare away from me, quite possibly wondering how peanuts get in the shells or something equally poignant.
My co-worker and I looked at each other, trying to grasp what the hell just transpired. We're afraid to ask, because once you get Samantha talking about her problems, she will never shut up. Before I could decide whether or not to let her keep going, she turned and indulged me with an explanation.
"My fiance..." She paused. I leaned forward, knowing that this was going to be good. "He... he promised me to go ring shopping today. We've had this planned and saved up for since November." Okay, so he stood her up. At least this time he wasn't caught with his meat whistle in a drunk sorority girl.
I had to ask. "What made him change his mind?"
"Well, he... he calls me up last night and tells me he can't go shopping today. I say 'Okay, when can we go?' He told me that we couldn't go because he had to spend the money. I asked what he had to spend it on... that bastard went out and got an Xbox 360 with our engagement ring money."
Words escaped me. My co-worker was equally silent. He spent their engagement ring money on a 360. Both of their money. Before the inevitable laughter could escape me and my co-worker, we left her standing there and just walked away briskly. Her hands on her hips, she looked at us, trying to understand what we were doing as we walked away upon the conclusion of her tragic story. We got to the cafe section of the store before we lost it.
That did not stop her, though. She proceeded to tell customer after customer about her tragic tale. All of them had the same reaction; some didn't make it to the door before laughing aloud. Samantha stared each time, puzzled why they didn't think it was as serious as she did. Her tragic tale of love thrown into woe over video games did not elicit the sweet pity she's always looking for.
She left and went home an hour later. Everyone else working the store for the rest of the night would burst out into random fits of laughter, knowing how much she had the fiance she deserved.
I can only hope that, like all other great engagement stories, it is a harbinger of the times to come for both of them.
figmentation:
wow... heehee... but. geez