Where You At, Bitch? 1/19/06

I cut my arm open on the freezer door today. Blood, ew. I have a prolem getting milk for people when I leave for the day. I am told that I have to stock the milk freezer because they do it for me for when I get there. But they don't do it for me. They wait until I get there and make me go get it. So from now on, I am not stocking the milk before I leave. A black guy comes in and orders black coffee. "Like you." I think. I am not racist I swear. It jsut popped into my head. Some Asian guy comes in and want coffee. All he does is repeat "coffee" over and over again. "Coffee! Coffee! Coffee!" Perhaps he is a bit retarded or maybe he's just REALLY addicted to coffee. A blonde chick from the store accross the street where the cool black girl works comes is and models her clothes for me when I ask what kind of clothes they sell. I like her jeans. A hippie lesbian comes in and wants a bottle of water but leaves when she finds out that it's over $2. She comes back ten minutes later and buys it anyway. A woman sitting in the wrap-around booth in the back jumps up and screams. A cockroach attacked her. It was about 3 inches long. I laugh so hard I have to retreat to the kitchen for a few minutes. I make TONS of tips today because I am awesome. Playing with the register, I find that if someone came in and bought just one of every item that we seel, the total would be $803 and some change. I make a ballerina out of the corkscrew we use to open some over the wine bottles. I put the arms up towards the bottle cap remover and make it gracefully glide across the counter. Wow, I am bored. A man comes in with a blonde woman and he looks suspiciously like James Frey, author of A Million Little Pieces and My Friend Leonard. But he is drinking Budweiser so unless his books are in fact ficticious, I will assume this is not him. A random woman who looks like she is upper middle class runs in, steals some bread and runs out. I have no idea what I should do but no one else working seems to care that much so I shrug it off. I am summoned to the basement office to talk with the Mayor. He asks me about school and when I think I am going and what classes I will take, etc. He tells me that I will be making $7/hour. I tell him that my manager told me $7.50. We banter about this for a while before he says "Fine, if he say you get $7.50. You get $7.50. I talk to him later." Yay me! As I am leaving, the Hispanic Thug is in the back booth with two cans of bug spray screaming "Bitch! Where you at, bitch?! I'll fucking kill you!!" I leave quickly and hope the cockroach either dyes fast or gets away and attacks someone else soon.