Sometimes, I Think Terrible Things

Today. At my job.

My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad job...
a customer asked me if we still had an item we haven't had in over a year.
This same customer, who is not new to our store, then proceeded to (attempt to) browbeat me with such admonitions as, and I paraphrase:

"You should take down that (pointing to a sign on our outer wall that I cannot see - while standing under our menu which I also cannot see) nutritional information poster, then."
(because)
"I'm a diabetic, and it makes it hard for me to eat."

The thoughts that ran through my head, after I suppressed the urge to feed her a mouthful of register tape, went as follows...

...


First of all, if you're a diabetic, why are you at a fast food restaurant?

Second, if you're a diabetic trying to eat at a fast food restaurant, you should have a backup plan. If my life or death depended that immediately upon my menu, I would damn sure do my research.

Third, you wretch, I don't make the menu or hang the promotional bullshit. I wear a baseball cap and punch buttons. I don't make decisions. If you had any brains at all you would find a manager and complain like I told you to do.
If you ask, I will get one of them for you.

I have heard that being a bitch is part of your morning routine, but what you have not heard about me is that I don't care.
I don't care that you're ill if you insist on being stupid about it.
I don't care about your dining experience. I am paid (poorly) to get you in and out of my line in record time. Yes, corporate really does time us. We are to get you out of the way for the next stomach with a wallet, because they don't care about your dining experience, either.

Oh, and I sure as fuck don't care about your attitude. I have one of my own.
Enjoy your enormous cup of aspartame. Twat.