Cowards

I'd always gotten the asshole vibe from this regular customer at work. He'd made fun of me before, & I'm sick of seeing his ugly face. I work as a lumber cashier at Lowe's, & I see some customers everyday or nearly everyday: frequently multiple times a day. It sucks. This guy is 1 of those customers.
When this guy is there by himself, there aren't problems. But when he has an audience, watch out. He's been there with his kid(s), & asked me, "Are you having fun?" & I've said, no, & he's laughed, which might not sound so bad (Certainly, trust me, it's boring & typical.), but context is everything sometimes. I'm real; that's how I am. If I'm miserable, I have neither the energy nor the inclination to act happy. & I'm frequently miserable at work for good reason; my job sucks.
Lately, this asshole has been coming into Lowe's with a young guy: a teen. So they come to my register. While I'm doing my job, the asshole asks me, "Do you like your job?" He's such an asshole, I was expecting him to laugh when I said, "no," but he didn't. "What's your passion?" he asked. As I mentioned, I'd gotten the asshole vibe from him before, so I didn't answer. he said, "not this?" I said, "no." The teen said, "Are you certified in anything?" "No," I said. "He don't give a fuck about you," the asshole said. "He's angry," 1 of them said as they were leaving. It was humiliating. They ganged up on me. If you don't see it, you had to be there.
I'm such an easy target. I stand there, they approach me, & I have to deal with them. Realistically, to be a cashier at my age means I'm a loser. & that's how they treated me. & people are so shitty, they don't care WHY you're a loser, just that you ARE 1, & therefore, it's OK to treat you like 1. Maybe I'm a loser because I'm the result of a teen pregnancy, my father left when I was 2, my mother has always been cold, selfish, lazy, uncaring, stupid, etc, & I was molested by a family member (the short version).
So that in itself sucked, but it wasn't over. That occurred at the "front end" of the store, where the main exit is. Then, as usual, I moved to the lumber register to relieve the woman who starts there at 6:00 am. So they returned. Fucking great, I thought. Even though he's well into adulthood, I saw the asshole jump onto a cart & ride it a bit.
So they approached me again. The asshole said, "hi." I was still pissed at them, so I said nothing. He laughed & so did the teen. Then he asked, condescendingly, "which register do you like better: this or the other 1?" Again, I said nothing, & again they laughed at me. I'd had enough.
"I don't appreciate you hassling me while I'm trying to pay my bills & keep a roof over my head!" I said very angrily to the asshole. I had bagged his purchases & tossed them hard onto the counter, which may have hit him a little bit, & there was hard stuff in that bag. He looked shocked; I didn't care; I was furious.
"You got it wrong," he said. "I was trying to be nice." "You laughed at me!" I replied. He said, "Yeah, but- (don't recall the rest)."
Then he called me a prick. Obviously, you can get fired for cursing out a customer, so I said, "You are!" The whole time, the teen is smirking at me: so fucking disrespectful & shitty. Then the teen bought an energy drink. I virtually always hand the change to the customers: not this time. I definitively put his change & receipt on the counter; our hands touched a little. I did not thank them for their purchases; again, I virtually always do that. The teen continued to smirk, as he said, "Have a nice day" (sarcastically) to me.
As they were leaving, the asshole loudly said, "What a fucking asshole!" or something like that, which was obviously meant for me. The teen laughed.
For quite a while, hours, afterward, I felt sick: possibly the result of an adrenaline dump. I also had, & still do, some fear. What if they come back to beat the shit out of me? I spend a lot of time alone over there: especially at night. What if 1 or both of them know Karate, etc.?
That's why I titled this "Cowards," because that's what people who fuck with other people while they're working are. It's not fair. He can call me a prick, an asshole, but I can't unless I don't mind getting fired, which doesn't seem so fucking bad, & hasn't for a while now.
Now I can "look forward" to dealing with them again (& again & again).

Do You NEED a Bag?

Not sure if I've disclosed this before, but, I, most unfortunately, am a cashier, and I am not young.  It pains me to write that.  In fact, I try to avoid saying the word as much as possible.  At work, we have head cashiers.  I call them "HCs."  I don't even like to see people working as cashiers, because it reminds me of how I spend 40 hours a week.  "You are what you do" is bullshit.  I am not, at my core, a cashier.  It is just how I pay the bills.  People, that I don't know, have purchased and read my writing, so, therefore, by definition, I am a professional writer (just not a successful one).
However, even someone as low on the food chain as I am can make a difference.  I don't think I've ever heard one of my coworkers asking a customer if they NEED a bag.  They either bag the item(s) without asking, or they ask, "Do you WANT a bag?"  I specifically ask them if they need a bag, and this gets them thinking, "Do I need a bag?"  Many times, the answer is no.  Compared to my coworkers, and lots of other cashiers, I issue far fewer plastic bags, which, of course, aren't good for the environment.  They are all over the place.  Innocent sea creatures attempt to eat them in the ocean, where there are tons of them.
Frequently, I don't even ask if they need a bag.  I just don't bag their stuff.  Sometimes, this leads to me getting attitude.  An elderly woman was buying some large items: too big to fit into our bags.  There was a box of lightbulbs that would fit into a bag, but she left it in her cart, and I scanned it there.  I didn't bag it.  It turns out her middle-aged son was there too.  He approached her as she was waiting for him near the exit.  He said, "You didn't get a bag for the bulbs?"  He seemed annoyed.  Then he bought something at my register.  Even though I heard this whole "bulb, bag" exchange, I still asked him if he needed a bag.  Some things (like the environment) matter more than pissing off some little shit.  I towered over him, on my anti-fatigue mat, my body language aggressive.  No, he didn't need a bag.  But, as he was walking away, he angrily ripped a bag from the dispenser for his mommy.  What will happen to that bag?  Will it be recycled?  I hope so.  But it's far too possible that it won't be.
I have trained others to do my job, and I have trained them to ask the customers if they need bags.  I heard one of my coworkers say, to a customer, "I put a bag around these just to keep them together."  I looked to see what she was talking about.  It was clearly a waste of a bag.  I wouldn't have used a bag for that.  I wouldn't have even asked the customer if she needed a bag for that.  But the customer was so impressed!  I thought no one in this wicked world cared about me, but someone does!  "Oh, thank you," she said.  So, you see, my coworker took the easy, wasteful way out.  She pleased the customer, but at what cost?  No less than the environment.  She betrayed the environment to please a common hag (a bag for a hag!  If he's still alive, her husband can reuse it by putting it over her face, and maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to have sex with her near carcass!).
Even though I have OCD, I have pulled paper out of the trash (gross) at work, so it could be recycled.  My shitty neighbors opened a box, that was addressed to the shitty tenants that lived in that apartment before them, and put the box outside the front door of the building that we (unfortunately) share.  They left it there for at least a week (They are lazy slobs.).  I considered calling the office about it, then I decided to dispose of it myself, so it could be recycled.  If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself.        

Taking Shit

Life is all about taking shit.  Now that I'm employed again, this is clearer than ever.  I've had to take shit from coworkers: but mostly from customers.  My coworkers have also had to take massive amounts of shit from customers.  Perhaps society is breaking down.  Some think that America is headed for a major fall.  Perhaps this is part of it.
I'll give you an example.  I was working, as a cashier, in the outside lawn and garden area of the store where I work.  A man was there with his woman.  I rang up the purchases, and he paid for them with his credit card.  When one uses a credit or debit card to pay, one approves the purchase amount first, so that's what he did.  After he did that and paid for the merchandise, he had a problem with the price of one of the items.  According to him, it had been put in the wrong place or the price was wrong.  According to him, it should have cost a lot less than it did.  But here's the problem; he approved the total purchase amount!  And now that it's gone through, there's nothing I can do to right this supposed wrong for him.  Returns must be done at customer service.  I told him that, and it made him very angry.
"You mean I have to go all the way over there?" he asked.  He said it like it was a mile or so away.  It wasn't.  It was much less than that: just a little bit of a stroll, which, considering his fat-ass physique, he wasn't very used to navigating.  Then he said, "Fuck it.  I'm not going there.  I'll hold up the line too.  I don't care."
I knew what to say to that, but I didn't say it, because it could have gotten me fired.  I would have said, 'Why did you approve the purchase amount if you had a problem with it?"
Here's another example.  A woman, with an English accent, approached me while I was manning a cash register.  She was a little bitchy, which turned out to be foreshadowing.  The store I work at has it's own credit cards.  We allow our customers to use them even if they failed to bring them to the store for their purchases.  We can look them up on the computerized registers.  That's what the bitch wanted to do; she wanted to use the credit card she failed to bring to the store.  So I looked it up, and the computer said, "no account found."  I told her that, and she got very bitchy
"I have an account here!" she yelled.  I double-checked all the info she had given me: no dice.  My memory is a little fuzzy, cause I've been drinking, but I think she requested the assistance of a manager.  She arrived and assisted. 
The manager, Trixie, asked "Could it be under your husband's name (which I had asked)?"
"No!" was the response,  "It's under both our names.  I think he (me) typed it in wrong."
It turned out that it was under her husband's name.  She had been a bitch for no good reason and fucked with two people who couldn't retaliate unless they were OK with losing their jobs.              

Work

It's so surreal to transition from unemployment to working full time.  There are times when I'm just standing there:waiting to service customers (I'm a cashier.).  Oh well, I'm miserable when I'm home; I'm miserable when I'm there.  At least there I'm earning money and socializing to a degree.
I've noticed certain things at work.  There are birds in the store.  I had seen this sort of thing before at Wal-Mart.  Birds come into the store.  Then what?  I think, in most cases, it's over for them.  Their chances of escape don't seem to be very good.  I think they would most likely die of thirst or hunger.  It's so sad to hear them calling out to their friends or family.
Someone bought a large poster.  It was a drawing of someone holding bacon in their fist, and the caption said, "bacon power."  It's obviously supposed to be funny.  It isn't funny at all.  Bacon is the result of the murder, and, most likely, cruel confinement of pigs.  It disgusts me that people are so callous that bacon has become a funny thing to them.
In the break room, I overheard someone casually saying that someone was going to get rid of their dog because they were worried about their baby.  That sort of shit is so typical.  Get a dog, then get rid of the dog because you're worried he or she might hurt your child.  Animals aren't things to be returned to the store.  Many dogs have been devastated when they've been rejected by (what they thought were) their families.  They often go from a house to a cage in a shelter: dog prison.  But they haven't committed any crimes.  Hey assholes, have some foresight.  Don't get a dog if you're just going to get rid of him or her once you have a kid.    
A lot of old folks come into the store where I work.  It's horrible to see what old age does to people.  It beats them down.  Some of these people are barely standing: let alone functioning.  They are walking dead.  They are nearly complete messes.  I hope I die before I get old(er).
And, ultimately, as usual, I ask myself, why shouldn't I throw my tired old broken, pain-ridden body off a bridge?