108 lines
5.5 KiB
Plaintext
108 lines
5.5 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #651
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8 "The Ill-begotten, Psuedo-ethics
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888 888 888 888 888 of Semi-janitorial Work:
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 Cub Foods Style"
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Hypomonk
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 5/22/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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There I was, midway through the monotony of my job at a local grocery
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store. It had been an uneventful day. I redirected customers to aisles in
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which their requested item wouldn't be found, as I usually do.
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"Excuse me, sir (I love it when they call me sir). Can you tell me
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where the Drunk Before Noon Cooking Wine is?"
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(Acting confused and slightly disgruntled)
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"Well, my guess would be Aisle 7." Aisle 7 is the cereal aisle. The
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last time I checked, cooking wine was not a grain.
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"Oh, thank you."
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"Uh huh."
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You dumb bastard. I aptly avoid them until they're finished
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shopping. Anything to make a boring, unsatisfying, and ill-paying job that
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much more workable. Fucking with customers is great.
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"Excuse me, sir (I love it when they call me sir). Do you have any
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more Mr. Starchy's Potato Wedges?"
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"Well, we should be getting a truck in tomorrow, you can check back
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then."
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Of course we have more, you club-footed fuck, but am I going to stop
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whatever menial task I'm doing to go through the hundreds of items in the
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back, just so you can enjoy a gener-o slice of fried potato? Fuck no, I'm
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not. So you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to lie to you. In fact,
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I'm going to poke fun at you, to your face, WHILE I lie to you. But you're
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not going to know it, because you're merely a customer. A lanky, cracker-
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eating, honkey-ass customer, who's shopping for potato products at 9:30pm on
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a Saturday night. So no, we don't have Mr. Starchy's Potato Wedges. If
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you'd like to come back Sunday, I'm sure we still won't have them, because
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we'd be getting a truck in on Monday, and you could come back then, but you
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won't, because your potato conviction is less-than-extraordinary. You make
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me sick.
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One day, I was mopping happily in Aisle 6 (canned goods), when I was
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approached by an elderly couple. Now normally, this would have made me
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smile. Old people are friendly, smiley, and great at cooking. So I
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thought. I came to realize that old people are stubborn, uncompromising
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retards.
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"Do you have this in a smaller can?" the old man asks, holding a
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family size can of Cambells Pork 'n' Beans soup in my face.
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"Yeah, we do," I said, smiling, and grabbing a regular-size can of
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Cambells Pork 'n' Beans soup, *directly* above the family size ones. Lesson
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#1: Old people can't see.
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"No, that's smaller. (You can see where this is headed)" Lesson #2:
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Old people are always ready to point out the obvious.
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"Well, we have a slightly larger can in this brand."
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"We always buy the other brand." Lesson #3: Old people are
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relentless.
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"Oh. Well, looks like you're fucked, huh?" Immediately, after
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walking away, I asked myself these questions: WHY did he strive for the
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median-sized can? WHY didn't he just buy 3 of the smaller cans? WHO the
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fuck would eat so many pork 'n' beans? These questions can't be answered,
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because old people are surely retarded, and I guess that someone mildly
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retarded might have seen the point in buying a can half a size smaller than
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the family size can, and half a size bigger than the regular can, but not I,
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especially when this size can doesn't even fucking exist! And you know what
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the funny thing is? They didn't even buy the fucking pork 'n' beans! All
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that trouble for nothing! Old people are so irrational.
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Sadder than above, this has happened numerous times, and not just
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with old people. Someone asked (and I'm dead fucking serious), "Where is
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the aisle where everything is big?" We don't have an aisle like that!
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We've never had an aisle like that! What would make someone think that we
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have an aisle where everything is big?! Retardation! People come in,
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asking for 10 pound jars of apple sauce, merely to save themselves a couple
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cents on the dollar. People are greedy. If they were that cost-oriented,
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why not make the apple sauce themselves? It's surely cheaper. People are
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lazy.
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I hate my job, the people I work with, the manager, and mostly, the
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people who shop there, but I've learned a valuable lesson about people who
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shop for food. They're stubborn, they're unrelenting, they're
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brand-oriented, they're cheap, they're lazy, they're irrational, they're
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retarded, and they expect me to know where every fucking item in the store
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is located. It is not in my job description to know where Cheez Whiz in a
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jar is. I didn't even know Cheez Whiz in a jar existed! I'm a "courtesy
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clerk". That's a nice way of saying "janitor". I sweep, mop floors, plung
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toilets and run errands for those many steps above me on the ladder of food
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service. I am a scrub, and you wouldn't be standing so close to me if you
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knew where my hand had just been.
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #651 - WRITTEN BY: HYPOMONK - 5/22/99 ]
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