Andare, Partire, Tornare ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The horror, the horror! I had a Traumatic Chocolate Incident at the 'Mart on Friday that left me shaken and depressed. Although we're technically not allowed to have drinks and food up at our register, this rule is flaunted rather openly, and the managers don't care as long as you don't make a customer wait while you swig from your soda, or get Cheeto goop all over their products. So I had just bought myself some Food of the Gods, commonly known as Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, and had stashed the spare one behind the giant bowl of doggie treats and plaque displaying the dog tags that are for sale that sit on our counter. It was out of sight to most customers. Or...so I thought. A customer came through my line, buying aquarium products. I rang him up, got his cash (chatting with him like we're required to do: Only Perky Happy Inquisitive People working at our cash registers, and if you're bad, the Secret Shopper will get you! Boo!) and thought the transaction was finished. I placed his goods neatly into a plastic bag, put his reciept in, and prepared to send him on his way. Little did I know what was about to come. Catching sight of my lone peanut butter cup, the customer looked at it, looked at me, and then (I can hardly bear to type this...) planted his finger in the middle of my peanut butter cup. "Is this dog chocolate?" he inquired, fingertip still pressing firmly into the now-violated Reeses cup. "NO," I blurted, my eyes wide with shock and horror. "Oh." He shrugged, removed his fingertip from my peanut butter cup, picked up his bag, and left. I disposed of the peanut butter cup in a ceremony involving the rest of the staff, a large trash can, and "Nearer My God To Thee" played over the intercom. There were tears in more eyes than just mine. 11:09 a.m. - 2003-11-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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