I’ve recently fallen into some hard times. Not only do I work a typical 9-5, Mon-Fri gig, but I had to get a part time job too. I now work at a video store 2 or 3 times a week. It’s somewhat cool, as I get 5 free rentals a week and my managers are only 19 years-old (making me the cranky guy they always laugh at and call “old”). But I worked for this store before, from 1999-2001, at a different location. Coincidentally, at this new store, my store manager from the old days is now the store manager for this store. So that’s pretty cool.
Anyway, I forgot all about what it’s like to work with the public. I forgot how dumb people are. Even more so, I forgot how fucking gross people are.
People come into this store all the time and smell as if they stuck their arm up a cow’s ass, pulled out a pile of shit, and covered themselves with it. Some of them have dandruff flakes the size of Frosted Flakes. There isn’t any amount of hand sanitizer that makes me feel safe while working there.
The other day, this big lanky kid came in to rent some X-Box 360 game. He tried talking to me about too. He was like, “Man, have you ever played Assassin’s Creed? It’s a really good game man.” I responded with something like, “Dude, look where I work,” I said as I raised my arms and looked around at my surroundings, “does it look like I can afford an X-Box 360?”
He gave out a little chuckle and went about his business. When he finally picked out some other game, he came up to my register, excited at the thought of killing more ninjas or whatever the fuck kids do in their games today. That’s when it hit me, like a shit-sock in the hands of a rapid homeless veteran, a smell of which I can’t find the words to describe.
It was like someone took onions, rotten banana peels, baby shit, carrots, and soy sauce, then mixed them all up in a blender and took bath in it. It was fucking putrid. And of course the computer I’m working at goes all wacky, so he ends up being near me for way too fucking long. The smell was so putrid, I thought about clocking out so I could go home and take a shower. It didn’t even leave the store when he left, it just kind of hung out with us.
Now I know why my 19 year-old manager drops hits of acid a few minutes before we close.
Tonight, we shower in Hell! (1/2008)