Inconvenience: Gettin Dirty
I’ve heard it said that what I do is considered one of- if not the most- dangerous jobs that someone can have. If it’s dangerous for me or for the customers, I’m not too sure on that yet. While the jury is still out on that one, I do know that it is one of the filthiest jobs that someone can have. Either that, or where I am is one of the filthiest places on the planet.
I’ve seen…things. Things that aren’t good. Things that will turn you white. Things that were white that shouldn’t have been. Things that were white that should have been, but I should never have seen inside the store. I’ve about dry-heaved a couple of times because I wander in to check on the bathrooms and see the horror that lies within. I’ve almost blown my lunch from things that I see just in the few aisles of the store. I’ve had to clean up when people blow their lunch in the few aisles of the store. There’s just something about the sound of puke splattering all over tile that fills me with a sense of defeat.
I’ve been covered in beer from people dropping bottles and from cans exploding. I’ve had hot coffee on me. I’ve had bags from our fountain pop rip open and spill on me so I get doused in sticky-sweet syrup that makes everything latch onto me. Let me tell you, it’s a pain in the ass trying to give someone their change when it won’t come off of my hand. Plus all of the dust and dirt that gets blown in here makes it look like I’ve been rolling around in the dirt for my entire shift.
All of that aside, the most disgusting thing about this job would probably be having to handle the money. People come in that I would never want to have to look at and give me money from somewhere that I would never want to see where they pulled it out of. Dirty people, stupid people, obviously sick people all giving me money that I have to take myself and give to other people when they need change. If some terrorist group really wanted to do biological warfare in this country, they should open up a convenience store. They wouldn’t even need to bring anything deadly over here, it’s all set up and waiting for them right here.
During the Summer, it’s hot. People sweat when it’s hot. Actually, it could be ninety below zero and people would still be sweating, it’s quite bizarre. So, whenever someone needs some smokes and they reach into their back pocket to get their wallet and hand me the money, it’s wet. You can’t tell me that it’s just from water either. No my friend, those bills are soaked in ass sweat. These dollars that I am expected to take have been simmering in bung broth for longer than I would even care to think. To me, having to take this money from them with my hand is the equivalent of taking my hand and shoving it up their ass. Granted, while I would like to shove my foot in their ass for giving it to me, that’s as far as I go. After taking the bills, I then have to put them in the register on top of all the other money and then the wetness soaks through to them, and pretty soon I have a drawer full of butt.
So there I was one night, doing my little clerkly duties and typing out another article because it was incredibly slow and I was bored, when this guy comes in. In one hand, he has his wallet and keys, and in the other he has a cell phone. In this mouth, he has two dollars. I don't mean that he had the money crammed in his face like a squirrel or something, but he had it between his teeth. I saw no reason for this at all, because if he already had the money out, then why was his wallet in his hands and not in his pocket?
Anyway, he goes over to the pop cooler and grabs a Pepsi. He then comes up to the counter, sets the Pepsi down, and then lets the money fall out of his mouth. He then looks at me while I sit there and stare at the bills, and he expects me to pick them up. I get a pen out of my pocket and scoot the bills closer to me, but then I actually have to pick them up to put them in the register. The way they feel in my hands and how they look, he appears to have been tounging the bills like they were his girlfriend and they wanted to experiment a little bit, and he really wanted to make sure he got the job done.
By this time, I'm thoroughly fucking disgusted at this guy. I get the change out of the drawer, but then I just stand there. I glance at him, then the bills in my drawer that are getting his slobber all over the other bills in there, and then I glance at the change in my hand. I do this rotation about three or four times, and then I do something that I didn't even have time to think about, and it's probably better that I didn't.
That's right.
I licked the change.
First thing off, let me tell you, spare change tastes like crap. Far too metallic for my enjoyment, but that's probably expected. Second thing, I didn't realize that I was going to do it until after I had done it. I'm probably lucky that I didn't catch something and end up dead.
I try to hand the change to the guy, but he backs up about two steps and puts his hands up.
-"What the fuck!?!"
--"What?"
-What'd you do that for!?"
--"Do what?"
-"Fucking lick the change?"
--"Oh, that. Dunno. I probably figured that since you gave me drool covered money, you should get drool covered change back. Seems fitting, doesn't it?"
-"That's fucking bullshit. I'm not taking that."
--"Why not? I took yours, so why can't you take mine?"
-"I don't give a shit. Im-"
--"Oh, but for some reason I'm not supposed to give a shit about your saliva covered cash? Why exactly is that; because the customer is supposed to be right? I'm here to tell you, that little saying doesn't mean dick when I'm on shift."
-"Give me other fucking change goddamnit!"
--"Okay, fine."
I then take the change that I licked and throw it in with the other change and mix it up so now all the change that I have has my spit on it, and attempt to hand him some more change
--"There ya go."
-"Oh fuck that, I'm still not taking it."
--"Then you're not getting anything."
-"Oh come on man!"
It's amazing how many times I hear that, honestly...
--"Look at it from my view, son. If you're not willing to take the change I'm giving you, then why should I be willing to take the money that you gave me?"
-"That's different."
--"No it's not."
-"Screw this, I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back here ever again."
--"I'll be sure to not give a shit later."
-"Actually, I might just have to stop in and talk to your manager tomorrow if you're going to be that way."
--"I still won't give a shit if you do. As a matter of fact, I DARE you to come back tomorrow."
He gives me a flabbergasted look and then proceeds to leave
-"Fuck you man!"
--"No thanks, and that offer still won't get you your change."
He then storms out, gets in his car, peels out of the parking lot, and has yet to return, at least while I'm working
Man...the things that I have to do to keep order at work. Now, I'll agree that I went probably too far that time, but it still got the point across to that guy. The thing is though, going too far is the fun part of the job. I just don't see why people expect me to do something that they would never do, like taking possibly diseased money from someone who I don't know at all. Sometimes this job just feels like one big test that God is putting me through just for shits and giggles...
...I never thought it would be a taste test though.
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