The girls who work the checkout lanes at my local liquor store all hate me. It's all girls who staff the checkouts - there's some dudes who stalk the wine-n-liquor aisles and answer questions, but being the beer drinker I am, I don't have questions (only needs.) There is one cashier who is nice to me - this cute blonde who is fine and perky. But she's new yet and has time to learn. The rest of the gals all have tattoos and dreads and piercings and pasty skin. They seethe when I have to write a check and then fish around in my wallet for my driver's license. The store has a cash-only lane, but there they frown when I take too long digging cash out of my money clip. They are also sure to have the receipt ready and dangling in my face long before I have my wallet or checkbook tucked away in my pocket, then they frown because I haven't moved my box of beer away to make room for the next customer.
The last time I was in the store, I got a lecture for not informing them immediately upon my arrival that I was returning an empty case of returnable bottles - I instead had informed the cashier while I was buying my new case of Huber Bock. The cashier, pale and freckled - but with bangs (I love, oh how I love bangs), mumbled her lecture. Because of her mumbling and more so because of her belly-button ring that I couldn't keep my eyes off of, I had to ask her to repeat it. She wished me dead on the spot, I could tell by the look she gave me.
The store's prices are high and their selection bites, but the complete and utter disdain in which these ladies hold me is irresistible. I can't wait to go back again. Drink 'em up!
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