Saturday, April 08, 2006
PART 2
Here we sit on Monday, March 27. My last day at Target was supposed to be yesterday, March 26, but I was not placed on the schedule. I guess that was supposed to hurt my feelings. I gave 3 weeks notice to be a good sport, and finish out March in style. However, I am officially retired from retail now. Even if I worked yesterday, I had no fun planned, I was just going to work through my shift and perhaps relax in patio furniture. Mark my word, and this isn't one of things I go back on like cutting my hair or going out with a Lacey broad. Dave Lansing will never work in retail again. Retail is filled with the scum of the earth who want the most merchandise for the lowest price. Some people still wouldn't even be happy if you let them push the cart out the door without paying. I hate people, and my hatred extends beyond just the retail scene. I hate people in stores, malls, restaurants, churches, funerals, weddings, on the road, at the bank, and any place where I am at any given moment. If I was the only person left on the earth tomorrow, I would celebrate. Just give me enough White Castle and internet porn to get me through the next few years. So, with that out of the way, it is time for another compilation of things that people can do to irritate me worse than a rash after you fucked a black hooker without protection.
A. The Name Game. Scum would do this at Target all the time, "Hey Dave, can you tell me where you keep the Astroglide?" Guess what, fuck-face, you don't know me, and you couldn't pay me to know you, so don't use my name. It is not cool, cute, fun, handy, or earning you any respect by me. This led me to wearing name tags from such former employees like Fred & Juan. Therefore, when they asked Juan where the extra small condoms were, I would happily point the way. Even better, when they went to routinely complain about my service, it was like pissing in the wind.
B. Video Games. You truly have to hate kids, or work in a place that has shit locked up in cases to appreciate this. Target had video games locked up behind glass so ethnics couldn't steal them. Also, we locked up I-Pods, Portable DVD players, and pre-paid cellular phones. Kids would love to ask me to look at the back of the game. This would mean I have to unlock the game case, let them read the back of Madden 2006 as if it was any different from 2005, and stand there like a moron as this 12 year old told me how cool the game was. I wanted to tell him how cooler it would be if he suffered a seizure from playing those things. Of course the little shits wouldn't buy it, so I got to put the game back and walk away. Now, I did not care if the company made money, but this wasted my solid time I could have spent reading Cosmo or Seventeen Prom. Towards the end, I solved this by telling the kids they needed their parents to look at games. This was 80% effective because most parents will not waste their time standing around watching their shitty kids read video game covers. I am not sure if I hate kids or video games more.
C. Pre-Paid Cellular Telephones. There are 3 kinds of people who purchase pre-paid phones. One, shitbags with piss-poor credit. Two, people who do not want to be traced, but still want a phone. Three, parents who feel their 12 year old child needs a phone. I wish cancer on numbers one and three. If you fucked up your credit by not paying your credit cards, you are an asshole. If you defaulted on any loan, you are an asshole. If you got your car repossessed because paying the car note wasn't your thing, you are an asshole. Basically, only assholes have bad credit, which leads to you being a scumbag. Buying the $50 Boost (Fake-Nextel) phone so you can pay $1 a day to direct connect other assholes just like you, does not make you cool. Perhaps you should save your money, and pay off your debt to get your credit score above a 400. Parents, if you buy your child a cellular phone under the age of 14, you are a horrible parent. I do not want to hear how you want to stay in touch with a kid. Under 14, you better know where the kid is at all times. I told my mom or dad which house or place I would be at after school. There is no need for a 12 year old to call another. On a similar note, Nextel should re-name their company to Douche-Tel. Only douchebags use Nextels. They are easy to spot, you can hear them beeping clear across a store or bar. If you want a walkie-talkie, go get a set of radios. The rest of the world does not care to hear your mindless babble. Followed by the beeping, you hear a robot-like person on the speaker at full deafening. Nextel should use this slogan in their ads; "Nextel, when being a douchebag just isn't enough."
D. Cellular Etiquette. This should be common sense, but I feel we need to go over it again. Cell phones are no longer a luxury, and we know everyone has one. You don't need to walk around public places talking in the phone as if you are home on a Sunday. Nobody cares to hear half a conversation of some loser with a Brooklyn Fade talking about how much beer he drank, how much sex he had, or how much money he has. Chances are he jerks off alone, drinks two Zima's and is three sheets to the wind, and falls under the $100 Commerce monthly minimum balance 11 out of 12 months a year. Next, if you have a musical ringtone, death cannot come soon enough to get you. Guess what morons, your phone sounds nothing like a CD player or a radio. Just because you think something you downloaded sounds like Kelly Clarkson or Jay Z, doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer. Ringtones sound nothing like the actual song, and even if it did, your taste in music would probably suck. The only way a cell phone ringtone sounds like Kelly Clarkson would be if she recorded that same song in a wheel chair after a stroke with a permanent speech impediment. Not to mention the band would have to be on Acid, and bought their instruments from a high school band room surplus sale. If you want people to hear your shitty music, go get a ghetto blaster, put 10 D batteries in the back, and get your best cassettes out. Finally, I need to address text messaging. Text messaging is also for assholes. Obviously, you do not care for the person if you are too lazy to dial the number to speak to them. Also, if you insist on being a texting low-life, most phones will notify you with lights and/or beeping when a message is received. This means, you do NOT have to flip the phone 100 times a minute to check for a message. I doubt Donald Trump get enough phone calls to warrant that frequency of checking. I hope phone companies charge $500 per message. Everywhere you look at bars, clubs, stores, restaurants, people are dancing their little fingers around a keypad to bang out a message. I wish carpal tunnel syndrome on anyone who text messages on their phones. I would like to catch some whore sending a message to her whore friend about how she got double teamed by 2 black guys, for a total of 30 feet of cock, and post it on a billboard. Sure, it would be costly, but a lesson might be learned. Not to mention the broad wouldn't be able to walk for a month, after such an evening of double penetration. The lesson here, a cell phone should be used for short conversations. Anything over 4 minutes, you are a douche-bag, and call the person when you get home.
E. Incognito Employees. Let me set the scene for you non-believers out there. Busy Sunday at Target, and there are tons of employees working the sales floor. Every employee has khaki pants on with some variation of a red shirt. Name tags are not important, since a red shirt and khaki pants would stick out worse than David Duke at the million man march. Furthermore, most employees have a two-way radio on their belt, and a handheld "price" gun. Walking up to such an individual to ask if they work here is like finding a man in a hospital wearing a white jacket, stethoscope around his neck, and hundred dollar bills falling out his pocket only to ask if he is a doctor. I should have told the people red is my favorite color, and I often organize shelves in stores just to waste time on weekends.
F. Mismatched Food Critics. The other day I was having a superb lunch at The Christ (Wendy's). I was awating my order to be assembled when some piece of shit old woman came up to the counter with a burger unwrapped and open for inspection. I, and the lady behind the counter knew this was trouble. If there was a way to hide, I am sure the whole staff would have. So, such lady begins to explain how these hamburgers are dried out. One is unwrapped, and has a few bites taken out. Burger number two is still kitchen wrapped, and has not been inspected. This cunt assumed that if the first burger is bad, the other one must be too. Now I begin to wonder about how a Wendy's burger can be dried out. Wendy's is one of the better places, their burgers are made fresh and always juicy. Maybe the woman let the food sit too long as she was yapping with the other woman, and it is now cold. Even if the burger is dried out, it is a fucking fast food restaurant. You don't drive a 1996 Hyundai to the dealership wondering why there was no navigation system or heated seats included. If your cheap welfare ass went to a real restaurant, you might get a better quality piece of meat. However, I still stick with my story, and I would put money that nothing was wrong with either of her hamburgers. The sad thing was, I overheard the clerk whisper to another how she knew this woman was going to be a problem. I have developed the same sense at the bank. I can tell by your walk from the car to my teller line what kind of guff you will be giving us today.
G. Maintain a Safe Distance. I hate people, so therefore I am a magnet. Myself and Vinny attract people like flies on shit. Case study: Burger King, post-lunch, me, Vinny, and two other customers in the lobby. Customer #1 is at a table in front, Customer #2 is near #1, but maintains the safety barrier. Vinny and I sit in a corner, against the window/wall away from all other patrons. The next customer takes their tray and sits at the table right next to us. You obviously hear us talking about sex, porn, broads, and other disgusting shit, so why come anywhere near us assholes. This is not a one time deal, this repeats itself all the time with me. One night Vinny and I were at the Colonel, and we were the only damn people in the lobby. We sat in the corner, away from the whole restaurant. Some piece of shit lady and her even shittier kid sits right behind us. The damn kid stands up on the bench and proceeds to stare at Vinny and I. I hate kids to begin with, and why the fuck would you sit so close to people in an empty restaurant. I do not give off a warm and inviting charm to the general public, so this one is a mystery to me. If I could sit in the basement by myself and eat my shitty food, I would just to be away from screaming kids, text messaging, and ringtones.
Originally Posted: 27 March 2006
A. The Name Game. Scum would do this at Target all the time, "Hey Dave, can you tell me where you keep the Astroglide?" Guess what, fuck-face, you don't know me, and you couldn't pay me to know you, so don't use my name. It is not cool, cute, fun, handy, or earning you any respect by me. This led me to wearing name tags from such former employees like Fred & Juan. Therefore, when they asked Juan where the extra small condoms were, I would happily point the way. Even better, when they went to routinely complain about my service, it was like pissing in the wind.
B. Video Games. You truly have to hate kids, or work in a place that has shit locked up in cases to appreciate this. Target had video games locked up behind glass so ethnics couldn't steal them. Also, we locked up I-Pods, Portable DVD players, and pre-paid cellular phones. Kids would love to ask me to look at the back of the game. This would mean I have to unlock the game case, let them read the back of Madden 2006 as if it was any different from 2005, and stand there like a moron as this 12 year old told me how cool the game was. I wanted to tell him how cooler it would be if he suffered a seizure from playing those things. Of course the little shits wouldn't buy it, so I got to put the game back and walk away. Now, I did not care if the company made money, but this wasted my solid time I could have spent reading Cosmo or Seventeen Prom. Towards the end, I solved this by telling the kids they needed their parents to look at games. This was 80% effective because most parents will not waste their time standing around watching their shitty kids read video game covers. I am not sure if I hate kids or video games more.
C. Pre-Paid Cellular Telephones. There are 3 kinds of people who purchase pre-paid phones. One, shitbags with piss-poor credit. Two, people who do not want to be traced, but still want a phone. Three, parents who feel their 12 year old child needs a phone. I wish cancer on numbers one and three. If you fucked up your credit by not paying your credit cards, you are an asshole. If you defaulted on any loan, you are an asshole. If you got your car repossessed because paying the car note wasn't your thing, you are an asshole. Basically, only assholes have bad credit, which leads to you being a scumbag. Buying the $50 Boost (Fake-Nextel) phone so you can pay $1 a day to direct connect other assholes just like you, does not make you cool. Perhaps you should save your money, and pay off your debt to get your credit score above a 400. Parents, if you buy your child a cellular phone under the age of 14, you are a horrible parent. I do not want to hear how you want to stay in touch with a kid. Under 14, you better know where the kid is at all times. I told my mom or dad which house or place I would be at after school. There is no need for a 12 year old to call another. On a similar note, Nextel should re-name their company to Douche-Tel. Only douchebags use Nextels. They are easy to spot, you can hear them beeping clear across a store or bar. If you want a walkie-talkie, go get a set of radios. The rest of the world does not care to hear your mindless babble. Followed by the beeping, you hear a robot-like person on the speaker at full deafening. Nextel should use this slogan in their ads; "Nextel, when being a douchebag just isn't enough."
D. Cellular Etiquette. This should be common sense, but I feel we need to go over it again. Cell phones are no longer a luxury, and we know everyone has one. You don't need to walk around public places talking in the phone as if you are home on a Sunday. Nobody cares to hear half a conversation of some loser with a Brooklyn Fade talking about how much beer he drank, how much sex he had, or how much money he has. Chances are he jerks off alone, drinks two Zima's and is three sheets to the wind, and falls under the $100 Commerce monthly minimum balance 11 out of 12 months a year. Next, if you have a musical ringtone, death cannot come soon enough to get you. Guess what morons, your phone sounds nothing like a CD player or a radio. Just because you think something you downloaded sounds like Kelly Clarkson or Jay Z, doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer. Ringtones sound nothing like the actual song, and even if it did, your taste in music would probably suck. The only way a cell phone ringtone sounds like Kelly Clarkson would be if she recorded that same song in a wheel chair after a stroke with a permanent speech impediment. Not to mention the band would have to be on Acid, and bought their instruments from a high school band room surplus sale. If you want people to hear your shitty music, go get a ghetto blaster, put 10 D batteries in the back, and get your best cassettes out. Finally, I need to address text messaging. Text messaging is also for assholes. Obviously, you do not care for the person if you are too lazy to dial the number to speak to them. Also, if you insist on being a texting low-life, most phones will notify you with lights and/or beeping when a message is received. This means, you do NOT have to flip the phone 100 times a minute to check for a message. I doubt Donald Trump get enough phone calls to warrant that frequency of checking. I hope phone companies charge $500 per message. Everywhere you look at bars, clubs, stores, restaurants, people are dancing their little fingers around a keypad to bang out a message. I wish carpal tunnel syndrome on anyone who text messages on their phones. I would like to catch some whore sending a message to her whore friend about how she got double teamed by 2 black guys, for a total of 30 feet of cock, and post it on a billboard. Sure, it would be costly, but a lesson might be learned. Not to mention the broad wouldn't be able to walk for a month, after such an evening of double penetration. The lesson here, a cell phone should be used for short conversations. Anything over 4 minutes, you are a douche-bag, and call the person when you get home.
E. Incognito Employees. Let me set the scene for you non-believers out there. Busy Sunday at Target, and there are tons of employees working the sales floor. Every employee has khaki pants on with some variation of a red shirt. Name tags are not important, since a red shirt and khaki pants would stick out worse than David Duke at the million man march. Furthermore, most employees have a two-way radio on their belt, and a handheld "price" gun. Walking up to such an individual to ask if they work here is like finding a man in a hospital wearing a white jacket, stethoscope around his neck, and hundred dollar bills falling out his pocket only to ask if he is a doctor. I should have told the people red is my favorite color, and I often organize shelves in stores just to waste time on weekends.
F. Mismatched Food Critics. The other day I was having a superb lunch at The Christ (Wendy's). I was awating my order to be assembled when some piece of shit old woman came up to the counter with a burger unwrapped and open for inspection. I, and the lady behind the counter knew this was trouble. If there was a way to hide, I am sure the whole staff would have. So, such lady begins to explain how these hamburgers are dried out. One is unwrapped, and has a few bites taken out. Burger number two is still kitchen wrapped, and has not been inspected. This cunt assumed that if the first burger is bad, the other one must be too. Now I begin to wonder about how a Wendy's burger can be dried out. Wendy's is one of the better places, their burgers are made fresh and always juicy. Maybe the woman let the food sit too long as she was yapping with the other woman, and it is now cold. Even if the burger is dried out, it is a fucking fast food restaurant. You don't drive a 1996 Hyundai to the dealership wondering why there was no navigation system or heated seats included. If your cheap welfare ass went to a real restaurant, you might get a better quality piece of meat. However, I still stick with my story, and I would put money that nothing was wrong with either of her hamburgers. The sad thing was, I overheard the clerk whisper to another how she knew this woman was going to be a problem. I have developed the same sense at the bank. I can tell by your walk from the car to my teller line what kind of guff you will be giving us today.
G. Maintain a Safe Distance. I hate people, so therefore I am a magnet. Myself and Vinny attract people like flies on shit. Case study: Burger King, post-lunch, me, Vinny, and two other customers in the lobby. Customer #1 is at a table in front, Customer #2 is near #1, but maintains the safety barrier. Vinny and I sit in a corner, against the window/wall away from all other patrons. The next customer takes their tray and sits at the table right next to us. You obviously hear us talking about sex, porn, broads, and other disgusting shit, so why come anywhere near us assholes. This is not a one time deal, this repeats itself all the time with me. One night Vinny and I were at the Colonel, and we were the only damn people in the lobby. We sat in the corner, away from the whole restaurant. Some piece of shit lady and her even shittier kid sits right behind us. The damn kid stands up on the bench and proceeds to stare at Vinny and I. I hate kids to begin with, and why the fuck would you sit so close to people in an empty restaurant. I do not give off a warm and inviting charm to the general public, so this one is a mystery to me. If I could sit in the basement by myself and eat my shitty food, I would just to be away from screaming kids, text messaging, and ringtones.
Originally Posted: 27 March 2006
# posted by Dave Lansing @ 5:52 PM 
