Dear girl that works in the Uni shop,
Hi, you probably don’t know who I am despite the fact that I’ve been in the shop pretty much every day, even over the summer when there was no-one else there. I’m assuming you don’t know who I am because you still refuse to acknowledge either me or any of my colleagues that you see every single day. But that’s not what gets me angry really.
If I’m waiting in line to get served by you, I don’t mind so much if you’re stood there chatting to someone else and finish your conversation quickly before you serve me. I’ve worked in retail, I know what it’s like. I do begrudge you a bit for making me stare at your hideous face whilst waiting for a signal as to whether you’re actually working or just here for a chat. But it’s still not your face that gets me that angry either.
Here’s what it is. Picture the scenario – I’m waiting to get served, there’s no-one behind me and I’m looking straight at you with some of the delightful produce your shop has to offer in my hands. Maybe I’m already scrabbling for change in my pocket. I’d hope it’s pretty clear what I’m doing there. That’s when you turn slightly towards me (not all the way, thanks for not making eye contact incase my eyes shrivel up and fall out of my face) and mutter:
‘Can I help?’
HELP?! ME? Noooooooo, I’m just stood here cos I love standing and waiting. What, this stuff in my hands? No, I bought it earlier. Hand in my pocket? Well, actually I wasnt looking for change, I was wanking to the hideous sewage processing plant that lives on the front of your head.
All I need is for you to acknowledge me, then I’ll give you the shit I want to buy and you can FUCKING scan it and charge me. I’m not after any other assistance, and it’s pretty obvious what I’m there for bearing in mind a lot of the time I’ve already put all this shit ON THE FUCKING COUNTER IN FRONT OF YOUR TESTICLE SHAPED EYES.
I’m not expecting personal service, I’d probably move house and burn off my fingerprints if it turned out you did know who I am, but JESUS CHRIST, ARE YOU A FUCKING ROBOT? All I ask is a ‘hello’ or ‘hi’ for crying out loud. The next time you ask if you can help me, I’m gonna pull out a knife, cut your face off, stamp on it on the floor then hand it back to you, then scan your eyes on the barcode reader until the lasers blind you. Guess how much you ring up as? £0.00. Then I’ll cut off my own hands because they’ve made contact with you. and probably contracted leprosy.
And guess what, after I’ve done all that I’m gonna steal the Boost and Ribena I was waiting in line to pay for even though I didn’t want it, I only came in here TO PUT OFF GOING BACK TO WORK AFTER LUNCH.
Yours Sincerely
Chris
