Suffering from a severe and seemingly endless bout of constipation, pinch-faced Aloysius Welch returned an unopened package of toilet paper to his local convenience store, EZ Mart, ostentatiously explaining to a bemused clerk that the four rolls of tissue in question were currently surplus to his requirements. Furthermore, he would prefer cash to store credit as his doctor had prescribed for his condition a powerful and surprisingly expensive laxative, Bowel Plumber Pro, that the EZ Mart convenience store chain inconveniently did not stock. And no, his case was extremely urgent, so it was inconceivable that he could survive the three day wait period necessary for EZ Mart to special order the laxative, assuming the special order would only take three days, which was laughably optimistic if his previous experience of special ordering pills and tablets at that particular EZ Mart was anything to go by. It certainly wasn't very easy, that was for damn certain. And yes, it hurt to laugh, even a hollow laugh was painful, so he would not even begin to contemplate such a course of stoic but ultimately doomed action with regard to his present predicament. Did Aloysius have a receipt for the item being returned? Of course not. Who in their right mind keeps a receipt for toilet paper? It's not like you can write it off against your taxes or anything like that, is it? Well, I suppose you could if your job entailed regularly testing toilet bowl capacity and flush velocity or something along those lines, but Aloysius refused to believe that was a real job anybody was actually employed doing. At least not in Apathyville USA or any of its neighboring conurbations, you could bet your bottom dollar on that.
It was at his point that the convenience store clerk, who had stopped listening to Aloysius long before, decided he would quit his own job when that day's shift came to an end. Only getting paid minimum wage for dealing with dickhead customers like this pinch-faced guy with the ass problem just wasn't worth the hassle. He would rather slouch around out back at a fast food restaurant, anonymously flipping burgers or filling tacos or whatever. Same money, no public. It was a win-win as far as he was concerned. Should have jumped ship sooner. He'd even dress up in a latex lobster costume or a full-body ear of corn suit, handing out flyers on the high street to people he knew, if that's what it took to get away from EZ Mart and the super-sized douchebags who shopped there. He was going to have to page the store manager to get off his fat, sweaty and probably equally constipated ass to approve the return because the dickhead customer didn't have a receipt. Manager to the register for a toilet paper return. Manager to the register for a toilet paper return. I can't believe this is my life right now. He just needed to get rid of this guy, suck it up until seven, hand in his notice and then he could go home and get high. Maybe he'd try to find out whereabouts in Apathyville the schmuck lived and toilet paper his house in the middle of the night. That would serve the asshole right. That's the kind of service with a smile he could get behind.
Comments