Catching the Stupid.
I swear to God, stupidity must be a communicable disease, and I have caught it. That is the only explanation for why I still work at the suburban hellhole known as the University Park Mall. Maybe the patrons of that mall are reasonably intelligent people in their everyday lives, but when they enter the doors, it's like they switch their fucking brains off. If I get one more inane comment about my stupid fucking shirt, I'm going to start snapping necks. Dealing with these people is like dealing with a retard. Actual interaction:
Customer: I want some Dippin' Dots.
Me: What kind?
Customer: Dippin' Dots.
Me: *Inaudible sigh* What flavor Dippin' Dots?
Customer: Oh, uh......
(A few minutes later)
Customer: Strawberry.
Me: What size?
Customer: Strawberry.
Me: No, what size strawberry?
Customer: Oh, uh... what sizes do you have? (The sizes and prices are clearly marked right behind my head on the back wall of the stand)
Me: *Another inaudible sigh* Small, medium and large.
Customer: How big is a small?
Me: *Hold up a small cup* The sizes and prices are also right back there. *Point to where they are*
Customer: A small then. How much is that?
Me: 2.70.
Customer: What?
Me: 2 dollars and 70 cents.
Customer: Oh. *Hands over money*
Me: *Gives change* Have a nice day.
That has happened way more than once too. These utter morons lumber around the mall, eating and shopping, paying no attention to anything around them. Despite our flavors being listed in three separate locations, all clearly identified, I still get asked what our flavors are at least 20 times a day. At some point I'm just going to lose it and shave my head, get a little spider tattoo on it, and run around asking people where their fucking thumbs are.
Working in the mall is like a slow lobotomy. I feel dumber than I did 4 hours ago.
/end rant/
Customer: I want some Dippin' Dots.
Me: What kind?
Customer: Dippin' Dots.
Me: *Inaudible sigh* What flavor Dippin' Dots?
Customer: Oh, uh......
(A few minutes later)
Customer: Strawberry.
Me: What size?
Customer: Strawberry.
Me: No, what size strawberry?
Customer: Oh, uh... what sizes do you have? (The sizes and prices are clearly marked right behind my head on the back wall of the stand)
Me: *Another inaudible sigh* Small, medium and large.
Customer: How big is a small?
Me: *Hold up a small cup* The sizes and prices are also right back there. *Point to where they are*
Customer: A small then. How much is that?
Me: 2.70.
Customer: What?
Me: 2 dollars and 70 cents.
Customer: Oh. *Hands over money*
Me: *Gives change* Have a nice day.
That has happened way more than once too. These utter morons lumber around the mall, eating and shopping, paying no attention to anything around them. Despite our flavors being listed in three separate locations, all clearly identified, I still get asked what our flavors are at least 20 times a day. At some point I'm just going to lose it and shave my head, get a little spider tattoo on it, and run around asking people where their fucking thumbs are.
Working in the mall is like a slow lobotomy. I feel dumber than I did 4 hours ago.
/end rant/