The Corner Store.
I work at a corner store. For not very much money (but it's not brain surgery, so WTF). Good things about it: it's easy, it's close (I could ride my bike there if I ever got a day shift), I like the people I work with. Bad things about it: The customer base is a bizarre conglomerate of redneck cretins and spastic crackheads. Difficult, difficult to deal with. The crackheads come in and spaz around the store late at night, making me wonder if this is the night I get shot/stabbed/beaten in the commission of a drug-fueled robbery. So far, luck has been with me. But there are humourous moments too....
My first day of work at this place, I arrived to see a police car in the parking lot. No, it wasn't our store that got robbed. Apparently, some guy had tried to rob another store about 10 miles away. Unfortunately, the cashier informed him that she wasn't giving him jack. Realizing it was time for Plan B, he then left and drove over to my store. In the process it must have occurred to him that this cashier with balls-of-brass had undoubtedly gotten his license plate number and would probably call the cops. So he took a rest stop in our parking lot and tried to figure out what his next move should be... all the while, walking around, smoking cigarettes, even yakking it up with customers who were coming and going. (Huh?) All in view of the security cameras, no less. Then he used the phone booth to call the store that he'd just tried to rob and pleaded with the cashier not to call the cops on him... even offering her $50 to keep quiet. She promptly got the number he was calling from off her call display, phoned the authorities, and they arrived at the store to take him on an all expenses paid tour of the local jail. Darwin Awards! Ding ding ding, we have a winner!
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
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