Saturday, January 15, 2011

"We Live In A Society!"

I am a huge fan of japanese food, and decide that I want to learn how to make it. So, I procure a cook book and make a list of ingredients. I venture out to get them, only to discover that the best asian food market in town has transformed into yet another whitey food store. Disappointed, I trundle off to the nearest alternative, the great canadian s___ store. I take my 3 year old, because there he is, and leaving him somewhere to fend for himself is frowned upon. When we arrive, I need a cart, which needs a dollar, which I don't have. I am forced to go to customer service and leave them my driver's license, for which they'll lend me a dollar to use. The line is lengthy, but not smack your forehead curse the world and leave in a huff lengthy, so I decide to wait.

I enter the line, a microcosm familiar to most: time grinds and slows to a near stop, and each customer ahead of me seems to have some kind of heretofore unheard of dilemma which requires close scrutiny and deliberation by the person behind the counter, indepth telephone consultations, and visits by specialized experts from the furthest reaches of the building. My place in this milieu is perhaps more frustrating than most, since I am waiting to do almost nothing, and my wait will result in about 5 seconds worth of actual interaction, after which I will have to repeat the entire inane ritual to return the nearly worthless result.  My mind furiously debates the worth of the endeavour, weighing options and considering time invested vs return and the possibility of outright leaving . . . I stay. Part way through this epic epoch, I observe as an astounding event takes place: a woman comes out of the cashier lineup, and after some quizzical questioning of the clerks, and some pointing, shrugging and sighing, she ambles over to THE FRONT OF THE LINE and, as though it were NO BIG FUCKING DEAL, attempts to query the customer service representative about whatever sand it is she has in her vagina. Now, we've all seen this happen before, and certainly, most of us have experienced coming out of one lineup only to be told we need to enter another tedious lineup and have thought to ourselves, “but I just came out of a lineup . . . surely that qualifies me as the next customer in this lineup? If god was here, he would let me go to the front of this line! A jury of my peers would surely see the reason in this! Going to the back of another line is a travesty! Rosa Parks, goddamit!” But in the end we all go to the back of the line, because we know it's THE RIGHT THING TO DO. Not this cunt. She stands there, avidly avoiding eye contact with me (which would burn her eyes right out of her skull) and my peers, and waits to procure the attention/favor of the employee behind the counter. Now, as if this FILTHY WHORE and her ilk weren't problem enough in the world today, fate and the odds take an incredible turn when the idiot behind the counter actually BEGINS TO SERVE HER. My mind swims. And sinks. My psyche is sucked down into a primal whirlpool of rage and confusion. An 'Altered States'-like transformation takes place: my physical person is replaced with a misshapen, howling demon; thunder and lightning create instant chaos and fear amongst the local populace; hurricane force winds rage through the aisles as I descend upon these two fools and their rancid mistakes. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!” I bellow. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? I NEED A DOLLAR!!” Their pathetic fear titillates me as I sink my teeth into their ribs and shake them like a dog with a sock monkey. As I suck the marrow from their bones, the lineup reforms before me, and people politely wait their turn to shower me with dollars and praise me as the new, true customer service representative. I don't know what happened to my kid . . .


  1. This happens to me more times than I care to even tally and I find it equally UBER-FUCKING-INFURIATING.

  2. Why do you need a shopping cart when you have a perfectly good three year old with you? Does he not have arms?

  3. Hilarity.


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