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From "Mooch Rex":
Call me curious, but when Eckerd decides they need to hire some folks to help mind the store, do they start by combing through primordial ooze for applicants?
Perfect example. I'm at my local Eckerd, which is located on the 6th level of hell, just past the adulterers. I had an odd craving for Coca-Cola Blak (Which is cooler than regular coke because they dropped the “C” out of “Black”. Hip! Cool!) So, there I am, purchase in hand, standing in the ridiculously long line as usual. Random thought: Y'know It's always a marvel to me how Eckerd always has the great sense to make sure that as LONG as the line gets they MAKE sure only ONE employee mans a register. Must have been in the contract ol' Scratch worked up for them. (Ol’ Scratch is another term for Satan. And before you ask, Yes, I worship the Devil.)
So, the single celled organism working the register, with her fat mouth hangin’ slack and her big meaty “Will there be rabbits on the farm, George??” hands clumsily molesting the items folks bring up, unenthusiastically calls upon the next person in line.
Now the woman in front of me was old. Really old. I'm talking formed out of the first sludge of the earth old. The ancient one shambles up to the counter and states that she'd love a pack of cigarettes for purchase. Now, all of us people trapped in line can tell she's been a LONG-TIME smoker. I suppose it was the small visual and audio clues that tipped us off. The white hair of age now a lovely yellowish tinge from the billowing clouds of nicotine smoke, the brownish teeth that looked like she ate a bowl of tootsie rolls without coming up for air and the throaty rasp of a once feminine voice now three octaves lower. Hell I’m a man and I don't even have that deep a voice.
The lummox behind the counter, and this is NO bullshit, asks to see her I.D.
HER I.D. PEOPLE. Would you card God? Hell no. You just know that fucker is OLD.
The Ancient one stared back at the Lummox like she just took a dump in a box of cigarettes and demanded she smoke them.
I settled back to enjoy the show.
"You're joking, right?" Oldie rasp/chuckled.
"No, I've got to see your I.D.” Said the Lummox “To make sure I'm allowed to sell you cigarettes. To make sure you’re legal"
Holy fuckin’ shit.
A massive sucking of teeth erupted from the line behind me, which if I had to visualize with a word, would sound very close to "TCCHH". The line which had been about ten people deep when I found my place, had snaked so far back it went past the photo counter. Methuselah was furious, and really, why wouldn't she be? When you've experienced the extinction of the dinosaurs AND lived through two world wars, I'm sure all you'd want to do is just chill out with your pack of smokes and take the edge off of life for a bit.
"The Mummy Returns" demanded to see the manager.
Having had my fill of the floor show, I put down my bottle of Coca-Cola Blak (Rad!) and I walked out. No small amount of bottled sugar water was worth waiting in that line to witness the battle of wills between a woman who's intelligence can be trumped by a brick, and a woman who most likely kept a Stegosaurus as a pet. I walked over to my local grocery store and bought a delicious red bull instead, thankful it gave me the wings I would need to fly back out of Eckerd hell.