The one with the weekend inc. a Rant

The weekends go by way too quick, as I’m sure many will agree. I was still playing catch-up after introducing Kevin Smith in Vicar Street Wednesday night, so Friday morning was spent with my eyes closed. Friday evening was spent with the wife,  my parents and a dinner. Following that, I dug out the old HD-DVD player for the 360 and hooked up Clerks 2, which the wife had never seen.

Saturday morning was spent again, exercising my eye closing techniques and Saturday night I was in Club D’Ville. Then yesterday, we went shopping. And this is where the rant starts. I’ve worked in retail back in the day and I know it can be tough to keep the smiles rolling and so on. But the least you can do is put the item into a fucking bag. Yes! A bag! I don’t give a shit about how bad a day you had. Or how hung-over you are from the night before. Or how the girl you convinced to take off your jocks was completely and utterly repulsed by what she saw and like a Sunday World reporter, made her excuses and left. All I know is; that by me making a purchase in the shop where you work, it helps the accountants smile from time to time. And the more people spend, in the shop where YOU work, the longer your fat ass will be in a job! If you don’t like working there, then don’t bother. You wouldn’t be missed!!! Either way I decided to buy an item yesterday in a shop and the ignorant shit behind the counter didn’t even acknowledge there was somebody in front of him. Obviously still upset at the fact that he was left there with his little winky in his hand from the night before. To be fair though, he did manage to tell me how much I owed, in a Shrek style manner of course. As I was handing over the cash, he eventually put a folded paper bag on top of the item, as to imply I should put it in the bag. No thanks, no nothing. I took my time unfolding the bag etc.etc. and eventually rambled away. It wasn’t just me, all the people in front got the same treatment.

I can only imagine what kind of shallow life you lead! No doubt your bedroom, in Mammy's house is littered with socks all which have a strange toast like texture. You’ll forever be the ignorant pig behind the counter, because you lack a little common courtesy and manners. Hopefully, the people that pay your wages will finally wise up and give you a nice little pink slip and send you on your way, you fuckin Ogre! Then you can go Instant Message the American chick who you sent a completely different picture of yourself to, all about it EVERY LITTLE HELPS MY ASS!!!!!!!