The Tale of the Rolled Yard; Part 2

So, upon waking that morning, we had one rolled yard, and a burning curiosity to figure out who did it. All good stories have a chase scene, and this is ours.

Now, before you can have a chase, you have to have a suspect. As I mentioned earlier, there was no shortage. We really had three basic categories: Scottsboro Folks (This guy for example), of the variety that are going to school at UA, The Band of Ignorant Rednecks, and finally Girls (or, more specifically, Cathy). Each of these people have motive that is beyond the scope of this little entry… but just take my word for it. We really didn’t know who to look for, so we took the receipt and headed off to Bruno’s.

I was convinced that they’d be ABLE to tell us who owned the debit card that purchased the supplies. I was not convinced, however, that they would actually do so. So we got to Bruno’s and went back to customer service where a nice old woman pointed us in the general direction of the “Assistant Customer Service Manager”, one Ms. Sanders. So we explained the story to her and, hardly looking up from the other things she was doing, told me that it wasn’t possible. This struck me as odd, and it seemed as if she was trying to say “I really don’t want to be bothered right now”… which is fine except that she’s a freakin’ customer service manager… how silly is that? After debating it with her for a bit, I decided that, regardless of whether it was or wasn’t possible, we weren’t getting any information out of her.

Ry made one last attempt, and she reiterated that there was no way to do it. So, with a resigned “I just don’t buy that” we were all set to walk out of the store. Ms. Sanders, however, had more to say: “Are you calling me a liar?”

Now, I hadn’t really thought about it quite that way before… but to be honest, yeah I kinda was. I’m not the kind of guy to not tell someone what I think about them simply to avoid conflict, so I wasn’t about to lie to her. “Well, you’re either ignorant or lying,” I said. Of course I meant that she must be ignorant of the capabilities of the store’s computer system, not just ignorant in general, but she took offense and asked us to leave… which, might I add, we were trying to do when she decided to ask if I thought she was a liar.

So, not ruffled in the least by the brief exchange, Ry and I turned to walk back out the door, when a cashier who had been standing there for the duration of the conversation said: “That was so ugly! Maybe you deserve to have that done to your house.”

This was not a good thing to say on a lot of levels. For starters, who in their right mind tells a customer that they deserve to have their house vandalized? Further, we were on our way out… turned around and 10 feet from the door, when she decided to put her two cents in. What’s more? She wasn’t even in the conversation to begin with. Now, I’m not one to allow my self to be treated like that by anyone, let alone some middle-aged woman who’s calling in life is ringing people up at the local grocery store. I wheeled around (paying very little attention to whether Ry was following or leaving) and said, in the most irritated tone I could manage, “Ex-cuse me?”

The cashier tried to explain: “I can’t believe you’d say something like that… and to a WOMAN!” Well, guys are raised to know sexist jokes, comments, and remarks for occasions such as these. There were so many going through my head, however, that I couldn’t manage anything but: “Are you kidding me?” She wasn’t. So I proceeded to inform her that I was a customer in her place of employment and she should try to be a little more polite in the future. “Well, you should try to be more polite too!” she offered. This may be true, but I’m really perfectly sick of getting sub-par service from washed up 40-year-olds who are working dead-end jobs but still seem to think they’re above college students. So, to make my point a little more clear, I said (emphasizing each word individually) “I. Don’t. Work. Here.”

She tried once more to place the blame on me, when I resorted to a tactic taught to me by my father. You see, when dealing with people like these — especially in any sort of service industry — one must keep in mind that these are the lowest of the low on the totem pole. My dad taught me long ago that if you have problems dealing with peon-like employees in these places, there’s always a manager, and that person is typically more helpful and customer-minded. So I asked to speak with her manager. The rude cashier pointed me to the ignorant, lying assistant customer service manager… I managed an exasperated “Wonderful!” before asking to see that woman’s manager as well.

She called for him and he came over. During my explanation of the story, the two women interrupted several times to try to change the story. I quickly cut them off, missing an opportunity to ask if they were calling me a liar (darn it) and finished the first part of the story. The first woman tried to argue, when I cut her off to insist that she wasn’t what I was wanting to complain about. With that, she dismissed herself to go do whatever it is that she does.

At this point, I told the manager that the cashier had said that I deserved to have my house vandalized. The manager looked rather shocked and immediately turned to the woman and said: “Did you say that to him!?” she said “Yes, but…” before she was cut off and given the suggestion that I was owed an apology. She stammered and refused to apologize. The manager said that he’d deal with her later and asked if we could continue the conversation outside.

The manager of the store said that he wasn’t sure what he could find out, or what he could tell us, but he’d take a copy of the receipt and a phone number. This is really more than I expected, so I was happy with that. He also said that he’d take care of the rude cashier.

This is exactly why neither of those women will ever manage a grocery store. All they had to do was act interested, take the info, and give it a look later. No need to go digging through it right that minute. Instead they seemed to care very little, took little to no action, and caused arguments instead of just biting their tongue. Dumb women.

We were no closer to naming the vandal than we were to start with, but we got our blood pumping and had an idea what to do next… and it turned out to work. But you’ll have to stay tuned for part three for that info.