» Customers from Hell

The Pedophile.
Dear readers, snuggle up next to your computer whilst I try my hardest to portray to you all the monstrosity that is... 'The Pedophile'.

My name is Hollie and I work in a bakery. Not just any bakery, oh no. Ours has some sort of spack-tard radar that draws toward us all the limping, shuffling, drooling coffin dodgers that smell of piss and have various bits and peices dropping off their heaving carcasses as they walk.

Not just the elderly, but the impossibly ignorant - ie, 90% of the general public. Hell is released on a daily basis, and its contents directed into my workplace.

My first encounter with The Pedophile is the time he stopped outside our window (from the window you can see right down the area behind the counter where we serve) and, with his best Hannibal Lecter - esque stare, slowly began to wave at us all whilst we worked. (The majority of our staff are under 19). Once he had sufficiantly freaked us all out, he shuffled away.

Thank God, he's gone, we all thought.
We thought too soon. This man must be nearing 50, potruding pot belly, badly fitting clothes, carries a backpack with the straps so tightened it is up to his neck, and stares with tiny beady eyes somewere between his majassive eyebrows and hooked nose.

He makes Gary Glitter look like The Pope.

He returns later that day with what must be his mother and brother. She looks like an evil pigeon, and if I were to accurately describe his brother, somewhere in the world a kitten may die. Whilst mother and brother buy food, pedophile stands at the back of the (very small) shop, and proceeds to stare at each of us (3) behind the counter. He decides that he has taken a perverse liking to my co-worker Samantha. You can see it in his eyes. Oh God. The eyes.

Anyway, whilst 'the' eyes are locked onto Sam, Pedophile begins to lift up his shirt. My heartrate quickens to above 400. 'WHATTHEFUCKISHEDOING?!' I cry in my head. He lifts his shirt to just above bellybutton level, and begins to rub his bare stomach. We all feel sick. We all want to cry, especially Sam. This is reasonable, because now pedeophile is both rubbing his stomach and pointing at her, with his long, dirty arm and filthy little hand.

RUBBING HIS STOMACH AND POINTING AT HER. As she walks up and down behind the counter. Equipped with crazy eyes and terrifying smile. We think he's about to crack one out right in front of us.

Pedeophile decides that he must know the name of his future wife, Samantha. He leaps towards the counter and asks her name, more than once. Sam keeps her composure and stays calm.

*dribble* 'WHATS YOUR NAAAAAMEE...'
'Samantha.'
'I LIKE SAMANTHAA. IT'S A NICE NAMEEEE'. *sweat*
'ok.'

Mother and Brother have finished buying food and procede to the exit, back to whatever shithole they crawled out of.

'BYE SAMANTHAAA.' *stares as if he stared hard enough her clothes would fall off*
'bye'.

Pedophile leaves, but looks back, waving, always waving... as he crawls away. He waves until he is out of sight.

He still comes back sometimes, always asking for Samantha to serve him. We all hide.

First post, don't be gentle, I like it rough.
(Fri 5th Sep 2008, 21:00, More)

» Customers from Hell

CHILDREN
If kids can be classed as customers, then they are indeed customers from hell.

ESPECIALLY, if they are in water, and you are at at their height.

THEREFORE, you are face level with a child who likes to swallow water and spit it back out in your face, and then proceed to throw up on you.

It's also not a great day at work when some other child decides to 'do a chocolate egg' in the water, leaving you to swim in water complete with flecks of their shimmering faeces.
(Sat 6th Sep 2008, 20:06, More)

» Food sabotage

My mother sabotaged me.
I was 12.
I was very thirsty.
I saw a glass of 'water' on the table.

Me - "Is this water?"
Mother - "*snigger* yes"

So down I gulped, 3 mouthfuls of straight gin.

I now detest gin. Maybe she was trying to teach me some twisted, cruel life lesson.
Or, maybe she is simply evil.
(Thu 18th Sep 2008, 17:24, More)