It snowed constantly from noon Friday until noon Saturday, and once again our town was woefully unprepared for an event everyone knew was coming a week prior. Someone in charge of clearing the roads should spend a winter month in Chicago and see what they do, and then implement it here (on a smaller scale, obviously). Or build a retractable dome over the city. The retractable dome and the underground moving sidewalk from my residence to the Bardstown Road bar district should be our community's top two priorities.
We weren't that busy at work Friday night since it was, in the immortal words of Willard Scott, "snowing like a fucking cocksucker," but those who risked their lives to buy alcohol were the kind of people who would risk their lives to buy alcohol. In other words, helpless addicts and complete douchebags.
I knew the asshelmet having the beyond cliched LOUD CELL PHONE CONVERSATION was going to be annoying, but I underestimated his omnijackassity. While he was screaming at the unfortunate soul on the other end of the line, he gestured wildly with his free hand and knocked a bottle of wine off the counter. Without even fucking acknowledging his clumsiness, he continued his conversation while walking off to replace the bottle. No "I'm sorry" or "Oops, my bad" or better still "Please instantly make society better by ending my life. I'm a typical self-centered asshole who treats people like shit because my penis is invisible to the human eye. I drive a truck that gets three miles to the gallon. I've never once created a pleasant moment for another human being and am therefore worthless." Nothing.
Unfortunately, our store doesn't have a "You Break It, You Buy It" policy, so I couldn't throw him out. I did sarcastically spit out "Hey, don't worry. We'll take care of that" but because it wasn't a sentence pertaining to the betterment of his life he didn't pay attention.
As if that wasn't enough the next person in line, instead of using one or two of her human senses to realize there was a spill in front of her, just walked right through the puddle of wine and broken glass.
"Ma'am, would you mind stepping over to the next lane so we can attend to this spill?" I asked nicely.
She gave me the stunned look of a dairy cow. There was nothing behind her eyes but visions of downing the pint of cheap vodka she held in her hand.
"Ok, you can wade waste-deep through the spill for all I care, " I said as I walked away wanting to punch someone.
As the woman made wine tracks out the door, I went to sit down for a minute. The one-two counter punch of douchebaggery and stupidity almost stopped my heart, and I sat there a defeated man. There were still two and a half hours to go and Wine Walks Woman would probably be back before we closed, since she was only three or four hobo-handies away from being able to afford another pint.
Suddenly, the phone rang. It was our District Manager with a reprieve: Due to the near-blizzard conditions we were closing early! Yes! Better still, as the people already in the store finalized their purchases, it was my job to stand by the front door and tell people we were closed. Sweet merciful God I love doing that. I said "Sorry, we're closed" but I meant "Haha, you risked your life and the lives of others by driving through a blizzard, and it was all for NOTHING!"
As I was getting ready to close the door behind the last customers of the night, this GIRL WHO GETS ALL OF HER CLOTHES AT HOLLISTER jumped out of a car and asked, with the upward inflection of the truly moronic, "Why are you closing?" She said this while standing hamstring-deep in snow. Flakes were accumulating on top of her empty head.
"I don't know...The weather?" I said before slamming the door shut and locking it.
As the blizzard continued through the night I was thinking I'd be able to get out of my Saturday morning shift. Instead, the store manager came to get me in her SUV. Son of a bitch.