What I Wanted to Say

At work today I had to man the outside register and watch the clearance merchandise that the store puts on the sidewalk. Since the register's battery died, I basically just had to stand out in the afternoon heat for three hours, making sure that no one made off with a truck-load of discount clothes. While standing there, a truck rolled up to right in front of the doors and the tinted windows rolled down. The driver beckoned to me and I looked inside.

The driver was a fat old man. And by fat, I don't mean that he was slightly overweight. He was obscenely, grossly fat. So fat, in fact, that I'm not sure how he could turn his steering wheel because his belly was mashed up against the bottom half of it.

The fat man asked me to run in the store for him and buy him a gallow of 2% milk (Why not Whole milk, are you trying to be healthy, mister?) and bring it out to him. I assumed he had to have someone else do it because he was either too tightly wedged in his car, or so obese that walking would break his knees. I begrudgingly agreed to do it -- knowing that by walking the twenty feet to the milk cooler, another ten feet to the register, and back to his truck myself was depriving him of the only exercise that he would have gotten that whole week -- took the money he handed me, and walked into the store.

Now, all that's not so bad, I guess. Fat people are people, too; some can help it, some can't. So, I tried my best not to pass judgement on this hefty soul. But after I'd bought the milk, put it and his change in a sack, and gone back to his truck is about when I threw all that "don't judge him" crap out the window.

When I handed him the sack he asked me how much the milk had cost. I told him the approximate amount. He asked me the exact amount. I told him that his receipt was in the sack, and I was about to add that his change was with it, but he cut me off and rudely accused me of taking his change. His change was a matter of pennies. If he had told me to "keep the change" as a tip, I would have been offended. Even if I had taken his change, there was no reason to get as upset as he did about a few pennies.

As I've learned in the past, the best things to do while dealing with stupid customers is to shut my mouth. Saying to such customers what I actually want to say has gotten me in a little bit of trouble in the past. So, I just turned and walked away from the fat man in the truck.

So, I wrote all that so I could finally say this: You stupid, fat fuck! I just saved you from an activity so strenuous it most surely would have given you a heart-attack, and now you want to bicker with me?! I hope you choke on your 2% milk and it froths up in your mouth like cream in a cappuccino maker and you drown! Fuck you!

Thanks for listening.