As I pull up and walk in, I pass by a pair of twenty-somethings outside, talking. They are picture perfect examples of today's youth (no offence to any of you in the same age category who may be reading this). The boy is in baggy black pants and a black oversized hoodie, his hands thrust deep in the pockets, his hood pulled up over his black trucker hat (the bill rolled too far down on either side, as is the style). He's got 4 or 5 piercings in his face, and a scruffy, pathetic growth that I suppose passes for a beard. The girl is this same type of mall-crawler evident everywhere: hair bleached and dyed blonde, tan-in-a-bottle, for the 'plastic' look. Black knit stretch shirt that doesn't come down far enough, low-rise hip hugger pants (matching black) that don't come UP far enough, and a size too small, so they bulge in all the wrong places. He has a lisp, she whines. Yeesh. I pass by them and enter the store.
First note: no hot food. Damn. Second notice: place is completely empty. The pair come in behind me, and head to the counter; yep, he's the staff tonight. Joy...oh, whatever, like I care. She stands in front of the counter, and picks up her whiny babble right where she left off. I pick up a bag of chips (the new "Black Pepper Jack" Doritos...I see that the website doesn't mention them, but someone mentioned them on the Taquitos.net forum; they're pretty good) and sodas for everyone, and head to the counter.
Now, if I had gotten through checking out with no problem, there'd be no post, right? Correctamundo. I stand there behind the chick (since she is, stupidly, standing right where the customer should be) as she drones on and on and on in her whiny, nasal drawl (endlessly complaining about some problem at her work, which centers around the fact that she TOLD them she couldn't work on Halloween). Does she move? No. Does CounterBoy ring up my purchase, or even acknowledge my presence? Nope. After a few minutes of this, I move up next to her, put my things on the counter, and proceed to stare at them, one, then the other. The most I get is that dude actually looks at me at one point, and shrugs.
Bad move. Should have just rung up my stuff and let me go.
Finally, when chick takes a breath before repeating herself, again, I turn to her and say "Barbie, do you think you could shut up long enough to let your boy do his job?" She looks back at me, shocked, and says, oh-so-eloquently, "Huh?" Christ..."Do you need me to spell it for you, Plastic? Button it for a minute." Now, she's REALLY shocked..."What did you say to me?" Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner here..."What, you deaf, too?"
CounterBoy gets into it now: "Don't talk to her like that." "Excuse me? Or what? Do your damn job, please." "Hey, man, you can't be like that." Chick's brain finally manages to finish it's slow shift from 'bitch' mode to 'fight back' mode. She steps back up, lightly smacks me on the shoulder, and says, again showing off her obvious college-level vocabulary, "Yeah!"
Bad move number two. Shouldn't have touched me.
Believe it or not, I really don't think about how intimidating I can be sometimes. But, looking back, here I am, all 6'3", 280 pounds of me, in black jeans, old band shirt, boots, hair down and a bit unkempt under the hat, leather cycle jacket with the zippers and chains, and now an angry look in the eyes. I turn on chick and take a step towards her, in fact, I took about three, and when she saw me coming and looked up into the eyes of Satan himself, she stumbled back with eyes the size of dinner plates and a step as wobbly as Jolly Saint Nick's belly. I waited to see if she'd fall over the pepperoni and land on her scrawny butt, but no luck. So, I leaned down and calmly but darkly said "If you touch me again, I will turn you inside-out."
Turning back to the boy (who hasn't moved...chivalry, where art thou?) "Now for you, Bongo. You're on camera with all this; how do you want it to end?" He hangs his head, and proceeds to ring up my items, quietly, quickly. Total, money, change, bag, over in 30 seconds. Take my bag, say "You may now resume your vapidity," and leave.
*sigh* And people wonder why I so rarely leave the house these days.