So, as many of you know, I'm stuck at Rite-Aid for the summer. Hopefully I'll have a more degree related job soon. But this job is not without its fill of writing material. Let's discuss two of our regular customers.

The first one I like to call "Drunky the Crow". I dont know what her real name is. She's maybe 35 or so but looks like a weather and cock-beaten old bar fly. She comes in once every other day to buy a 12 pack of Beck's. I'm sure she would buy a 12 pack every day if she had the money, and one look at her tells me she doesn't have the money. The other day she comes in to buy her Beck's and asks me if we sell Stella Artois. Why yes, yes we do. "Ok, I need to buy some.... Holy shit that's expensive. I wish I didnt have to buy it."
My curiosity is piqued (and I just learned how to spell that!). So I ask why?
"Well I invited some guy over last night and he and I drank half of my landlady's Stella's. (Stelllaaaaaaa!) So now I gotta buy some more and try to replace them before she sees that they're gone."
Let's review here:
She invites a strange man over to drink.
More than likely both of them have already been drinking.
She lives somewhere where she has access (legal or otherwise) to her landlady's kitchen.
She doesn't have a lot of money.

Here's a money saving idea. Stop drinking every night and fucking drunk strange men.

Speaking of strange men, this leads me to the second customer who I have dubbed "Sensitive".
See, Sensitive has Sensitive hearing. So sensitive that he has to cover his ears when the cash drawer opens because the sound of it and the change rattling inside disturbs his ears. He always comes in wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and sunglasses. Doesnt matter what time of day. I'm not sure he's ever not had sunglasses on. He drives a beat up 'Vette or something like that. Now Sensitive comes in to complain about Trevor. (Shout out.)
"That blonde head guy over there has some problem with me. If he doesnt stop I am going to call the cops and sue this place. He made a comment about me buying cigarettes the other day. I dont need comments like that. I mean what if I want to buy prophelactics? Is he going to ask me if I have a hot date?"
Blah blah blah. I say we'll take care of it and he goes on his merry way. So now Sensitive comes to my line a week later. I try to be nice and not disrupt his hearing. I'm very considerate. So considerate that when he has trouble carrying everything out I ask him if he needs any assistance. He turns to me and says, "believe me if I ever need any help I'll ask you first."
Well fuck you too Skippy! Go find a new store to buy your dirty rubbers in!

That is all for this week's adventures in Rite Aid.