Horrors of working with people (s)

While this entry is marked serious, it’s also very, very funny.  Why is it serious?  Because these are conversations which seriously happened.

Over the years, both myself and many friends have had the terror of working with the general public for different reasons, be it law enforcement, fire fighting, retail, or restaurant server.  During these times, you find out just how ignorant the general public is.

Here are a few stories about different interactions with the morons of the world.  These morons, who to your horror, breed and vote.


I worked at Mexican grill/cantina.  We wore shirts with smart-ass sayings on the back of them. Most of them have things like “Born to part, forced to work!” or “Who said beer wouldn’t make you smart?  It made Budweiser!”  Well, one of the sayings was “Condolezza Rice is NOT a Mexican dish!”

The dishwasher was staring at my back for like…twenty minutes one day.  I finally asked him, “Brian, honey, what’s so sexy about the dead center of my back?”

He tells me, “Nothin’.  I just don’t understand the saying.”

I glance of my shoulder and pulled the shirt to see which particular saying I had on that day.  I looked at it, glanced at him and asked, “Oooookay…what don’t you get?”

“Well…what’s a Condolezza Rice, then?”

To which I replied, “The Secretary of State of the United States of America.”

“…the what?”



At the food court in the mall there’s a really big, really obvious, restroom sign which leads to, guess what?!  Yes, the restrooms.

A fella that appeared to be in good health, as in…not blind…came up to me and asked me where the restrooms were.  I pointed them out, but I guess he still couldn’t see them.  I showed him the HUGE sign and pointed to the restrooms again.

Think that’s the end of it?  No, of course not.  I actually had to take him to the restrooms so he could find them.


Back when I was working as a mall ninja (AKA mall security) people used to ask all kinds of fucking retarded questions.  Mostly it was asking me why the mall was laid out the way it was or where the mall directory was located when I was standing next to it.

One time a woman came up to me asking where the Gap was.  Well, that in itself isn’t a stupid question, except that I was standing in the door way to the Gap.  Their sign was lit.  There were stickers up on all the windows displaying the Gap name.  The mannequins were wearing Gap t-shirts.  Fuck, there were even banners talking about the new deals at Gap.

At first I honestly thought she was messing with me.  Then I looked into her dull, puppy eyes and realized she was serious.  Old woman, you ask?  No.  She was in her early thirties.  So, I raised my eyebrows, pointed directly behind me and said, “Uh…right here…”

Her reply?  “Wow, I didn’t even see any of that!”


I hate retail…I really do, but when the job market is tough, you have to do jobs that you normally wouldn’t ever dream of for the sake of being able to pay the bills.

This mall was only two floors, with the exception of the JC Penny’s which had a third; it was a basement level because they owned their own building and could do what they want.  Other than that, there was the lower level, which I worked on, and the upper level which had the food court, along with some other stores.

What’s very important about all this is that you cannot, cannot, cannot park outside and be on the upper level from where I was at.  Even if you did park outside on the upper level, it’s very obvious you cannot go any higher.  When you are on the lowest level, it’s the most fucking obvious thing ever since it’s all a solid god damn floor, unlike the upper walkway which had the HUGE open space so you could look down and see the other stores.

This old lady…well, okay, maybe in her late fifties old…comes into the store from the mall entrance and looks confused.  So, I ask her what she’s looking for.  She turns to me, stone faced, and goes, “How the hell do I get to the lower level!”

Yeah, it was stated just like that, hence the no question mark.  It wasn’t really so much as a question as it was an accusation, since it didn’t go up at the end.  I kind of just blinked at her for a moment and told her, “You are on the bottom floor.”

“No I’m not.  Don’t tell me that!  How do I get down stairs!?” she demanded again.  I literally scratched my head and looked at her like she lost her mind.

“Really.  You’re on the lowest level of the mall,” I repeated, still dumbfounded at this bitch.  To her, it was as if I had insulted her child and kicked her puppy at the same time, because she started flailing her arms before she even started talking.

“I KNOW I’m not on the bottom floor!  Don’t insult me!  Just tell me where the hell I get down stairs to Zumiez!” she demanded one more time.  Now, what the hell a fifty year old woman wanted at Zumiez, I will never fucking guess, but at this point, I didn’t give a flying shit.

“Okay, well, elevator’s directly across from us.  Go head and good luck,” I inform her and point to where the elevator is sitting between the two escalators: One going UP to the food court and one going DOWN from the food court.

She harumphs, turns and waves rudely shouting, “That’s all I was asking for!”

To this day I don’t know if she made it to the bottom floor or not.


Different restaurant, same type of job…  A large party of people came in, and I swear to god, most of them were children.  I don’t mind children, it’s the parents that I can’t stand.  If the kids are running around, it’s the parent’s fault.

Well, things started off kind of shaky as it was.  The kids were noisy, getting into everything, and at their age they should have been taught better.  The adults were ordering appetizers and drinks.  I had offered the wines and one lady decided she wanted a full god damn bottle, which is fine, because it’s supposed to mean a bigger tip since the tab will be higher.

Well, about the time we bring the soup and bread sticks out, the kids are in full kid mode.  We’re doing our best to contain them all in their own section while bringing out napkins for spilled drinks and what not.  I take their order, asking if they’d like the kid’s food out first, which is what we always ask.

The woman who ordered the wine?  Well, she was queen of the table and was acting like she was the fucking pride of the pack the entire time.  Suddenly, she looks at me, just as the kids spill yet another full glass of water and knock of some soup, and states, “Little lady, this is not an opera.  Let’s make things run a little more smoothly and quieter, okay?”

I had NO idea what the hell she was talking about and I still can’t figure it out.


When I joined the Army, I was part of the Delayed Entry Program (DEP), so I had about six months to kill before I had to report in order to finish up the paperwork and swear in.

What did I do with my time?  Well, I took a part time job at Robinson’s*May…yeah, fucking shitty as hell, too.  Not only was the management the absolute worst thing I have experienced in my life, but the customers had the average lowest IQ that side of Wal*Mart.  No, I’m not kidding.

Where I was working was the top floor in the “Men’s Collection” area.  In other words, moronically marked up merchandise that made most people look like a flaming homosexual.  More importantly, when you came up the escalator, it planted you directly in the department, facing the cash register.

Now, to give you an idea of what I’m about to explain…  As I stated, directly in front of me was the Up escalator.  Where the escalator came up, you crossed the Down escalator.  It looked like a giant X.  Furthermore, there was a huge, and I do mean huge open hole cut out in the floor where you could look down to the lower level and see both escalators.  This hole, no shitting, was at least a hundred feet across and just as long.  Yes, it was big.  Above it were signs that said “Up”, “Down” and “Elevator ->”.

One time a man leaned on the railing and looked down.  He then walked to the Down side, looked down.  He came back to the Up side, looked around, and then turned to me.

“How do I get down from here?” he asks me in all seriousness.

“Uh…the escalator…directly across from us.  It’s on the opposite side of that big hole…” I tell him, shocked, confused, and a little angry.

“Oh!  Yeah, I could see down and couldn’t figure out how to get down there!  Thanks,” he tells me and happily goes to it.

Another time I watched as a man walked to the up escalator and then moved from where it let people off.  Two people came up it.  He began to go down again, but stopped as another group came up.

I really was dumb struck watching this person…but he didn’t stop there…oh no…  This moron then proceeded to once again attempt to go DOWN the Up escalator.  He stands on it, stops, and gets pushed back.  The dude almost fell backwards!

What does he do?  He turns to me and asks, “I guess I can’t get down that way, huh?  Where’s the DOWN?  This place is TOO confusing!”  With a deep sigh I walk him to the railing and point at the Down escalator.  As he departs he tells me, “They should really make it more obvious.”

Isn’t it a shame that stupidity is only painful to the people around them?

There’s a growth between my legs!  I think it’s evil!
Posted 5/12/2010 at 4:24 AM on Xanga

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