Limits

Wet Blanket – Metric

The customers at work drive me crazy. I don’t remember if I’ve already complained about their complete disregard for the limits we set on sale items. Now I understand that setting limits on things seems pointless. Why should we care how many bags of flour are taken by each customer, as long as we get the money right? Obviously, we don’t want to allow certain customers to monopolize our products. Another point that was brought to my attention was that companies like to keep track of how many families are purchasing their products in a certain area. By setting limits, they can divide how much was sold by the limit that is set and they get a rough estimate of how much of a market there is for there product in the area.

Why can’t people respect these limits? I look at it in a primitive manner. We supply them with quality product at better than reasonable prices and they, in turn, should show their appreciation by exhibiting restraint. Instead, I look around and see nothing but gluttony. Not just gluttony, but pride in their faces when they think that they’ve gotten one over us. They’re so proud that they managed to weasel an extra dozen cans of soup out of the local supermarket. A month from now they’ll be checking their pantry and be like, “Goddamn it I’m sick of chicken soup. Let’s see if we can return it even though it’s been a month and we lost the receipt and we’re a family of assholes.” All I see is pride and gluttony.

I finally showed Adriana my “eight jugs” trick. For those of you who don’t know, “eight jugs” is…me carrying eight empty water jugs. Now that may sound easy, but the normal human body usually only carries six jugs max. That’s one under each arm and two in each hand (by squeezing the handles). Well, I found out how to lift eight and I’d been teasing for weeks that I was going to show her. But I was like, “I can’t do it for no reason. This isn’t some parlor trick.” Today there were nine jugs at the register and so I decided it was time to whip it out. Er, the trick that is. Right after I had finished telling her that the trick wasn’t for show, I dramatically lifted the eight jugs and said to her and the customers, “Check it out everybody! Eight jugs! Eight jugs. Hey everyone, come and see how good I look!” My manager walked by and could only shake her head in disgust. I later apologized to Adriana for my showboating and for performing the trick when there was an infant present. That child will now grow up dreaming of one day lifting eight jugs and inevitably paralyzing himself attempting it.

By the way, she fucking loved it. *sigh* She looks so good to me. I think the best way of summing up how I feel about her is that…that when I check my schedule every week it’s half because I need to know when I’m working and half because I need to know when she’s working. I always look forward to coming in if I know she’s going to be there.

Making her laugh makes me happy.

*****

I was just thinking about that SNL skit with Richard Pryor and Chevy Chase spewing racial slurs at each other and lo and behold, so was The Sports Guy in his latest article. Here’s the link to the skit. If you’ve never seen it, I pity you my friend.

Dan, please…sit with me. I need you.
I need you too.
No. I mean I need you. Need you now. Dan, all those people, they’re dead. They can’t disagree or eat Indian food, or love each other…oh, it’s sweet. Being alive is so damn sweet.
Laurie? Wh-what do you want me to do?
I want you to love me. I want you to love me because we’re not dead.