I’ve long grappled with the concept of being a misanthrope, but lately I’ve come to accept it; a decision many of our customers at work seem intent on fortifying and making absolutely concrete. Take this scenario, for instance:

Sunday as we were closing, a lady with a kid in her arms approaches the exit door and starts knocking. As both registers had already been closed, I inform her that it wouldn’t do her any good to be able to come inside, as she wouldn’t be able to buy anything. She informs me that her boyfriend called up earlier and we were holding some DVDs for him. Failing to see how this changes the situation of both registers being closed, I let her know that we STILL can’t ring her up, and that we’ll be open tomorrow at 10am. About 5-10 minutes later, we get a call, which the store manager Brian takes. It’s either the lady or her boyfriend calling and cussing and pitching a fit because they couldn’t make it to the store during the 7 hours we were open Sunday. Raised voices are exchanged, etc., etc. I didn’t answer the phone, so I figure it’s not my business. While I’m busy putting shit back to get the store in decent enough shape to go home, they call again, this time even more threatening, as the shouted replies would indicate. Again, I didn’t answer the phone: not my business. Fast forward to today and her ghetto-ass boyfriend shows up and gives me a fucking staredown, so I stare him straight back in the eyes for a few seconds before getting annoyed and starting the following conversation:

“Can I help you?”
“Ya’ll should be better on the phone?”
“Huh? I haven’t answered the phone all day, but what’s wrong?”
“I had some movies up here on Sunday and ya’ll wouldn’t let my baby’s mama in to pick ‘em up.”
“Yeah, we were already closed at that point, both registers, there was nothing we could do.”
“She called up here and she ended up crying and shit, and I don’t want to start any trouble, but I spend money up here and[…………..]”

I was angry at this point, and don’t really remember the rest of what he said, but basically, the guy called up after his girlfriend got here too late and was threatening towards the store manager, but since I’m the only one his “baby’s mama” (his exact words) saw, I’m somehow responsible for the fact that he can’t contain his inherent ghetto-ness and act like a civilized fucking human.

Case in Point #2:

Again today, I’m at the register, and I ring a guy up for $40.80 in CDs. After consulting both his girlfriend and her daughter seeing if they have either $0.80 or a dollar so he can get three convenient $20s back, he pays for his CDs with $100. I count him back $59.20 in change, like I always do when I give people change back. Then the following conversation takes place:

“Count that back right.”
“Huh?”
“That ain’t the right change, count it back right.”
“How is that not the right change? It even says it here on the receipt.” [points to receipt]

So from this, I assume he’s wanting me to count it back in reverse order, adding it back up to $100, like old ladies in restaurants do. Fine, I’ll do it if it will get him the fuck out of my face, ruining my life:

“41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 50, 60, 80, 100.”
“Do it again.”
“What? I feel like I’m teaching kindergarten here.”
“Count it back right.”
“Are you serious? I seriously feel like I’m teaching kindergarten…41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 50, 60, 80, 100.”

At this point his girlfriend realizes what a fucking horrible choice she’s made in life and takes the smallest of steps in the right direction:

“Come on, it’s the right change!”
“I’m just teaching fat boy how to do it right.”

Nice. Not only nice, but incredibly ironic, since the guy talking this shit is no smaller than myself, so I (admittedly very weakly) fire back:

“Fat boy? You can’t even do simple math!”
“[mumbles]”
“Get out of here.”

At what point did either of these situations go awry? The only correct answer is that they went wrong when a stupid motherfucker didn’t understand simple courtesy, and the concepts of math and time as anyone who has even an elementary school education knows them. I don’t claim to be highly intelligent, extremely courteous, or even friendly, but I have minimum standards of behavior for myself, and expect around half of those standards from those around me. I know not everyone is going to be a winner, a charmer or even worthy of breathing, but the least they can do is be bearable to be around.