Where Do You Think You Are? Walmart?

I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I have another kick-ass guest post for you. The bad news is, it's the last one, so new blog posts on either of my blogs will be sporadic at best. You probably won't even notice seeing how blogger is screwing us all over anyway. You know what they say. You get what you pay for.

My next, and final, guest blogger is Amanda from Bitchin Mommy. Amanda just might be that long lost sister I told you about once. She likes to bitch about shit, too. Ergo, I fucking love her. Enjoy her post over here and then go to her blog and show her some love `a la A Bitch Called Mom. You know, bloggy style. Tell her I sent you 'cause I love when people do that shit.




We Need a Clean-Up on Aisle U

Attention shoppers: Some of you are nasty asses.

I have worked in retail off and on since I was sixteen years-old. My first job was in softlines at the big, blue box.  I worked in women’s and accessories. It sucked. A lot. This was before the 24-hour supercenter of today – which shows my age a bit. The store would close at 10:00 p.m. and we’d be lucky to get out of there by 11:30 p.m. due to “zoning” the store. Women’s always took the longest to straighten. We bitches can tear up a clothing rack. Would it kill us to put the sweater back where we got it, instead of tossing it on top of that pile of nicely folded shirts? Or hey girls, that’s a table of folded jeans, not a place to plant our ass. Nor a jungle gym for our monkey kids, for that matter.

At my current retail job, we had a very busy weekend. We had a bagillion coupons out that were about to expire, so every penny-pinching cheapskate – I include myself in that group – came out in droves to get them some savings. There’s nothing worse than a cheap bitch in a clothing store. She is going to tear up everything in her path to find the one shirt, in her size, that will bring her total up to the spending minimum to use that coupon. Now, I understand the need to get the most for your money. I love the high you get when you walk out of a store with four bags of groceries for $14.00 because you took the time to match coupons with weekly sales. Yes, sadly, my life has become so dreadfully dull that couponing can be the highlight of my week. What I don’t understand is the total disregard for items that don’t belong to you and that you know someone else has to clean up after you. I think it’s only fair that, if I catch you tossing an entire table’s worth of folded shirts in the floor with no intention of picking them up, you should have to serve a “retail sentence” of sorts. The perfect sentence would be that you have to work the sales floor in a popular, women’s clothing store on Black Friday, the week before and the week after Christmas. You would never make a mess in a store again. I promise.

I’ll also let you in on another truth that we womenfolk like to pretend doesn’t happen: We DESTROY restrooms 100 times worse than men. It’s true. Even if your husband/boyfriend/son has the aim of Helen Keller in your bathroom, they are more sanitary than we are in public restrooms.

Men generally don’t give a shit (pun intended) who knows they are taking a shit. My husband loved to regale me with stories of the home office men’s rooms at lunchtime. God help you if you were foolish enough to try to talk on a cell phone in that restroom. There was no buffering the, um, noise. Most women DO care if others know they are taking a shit. We will go to painstaking lengths to hide the fact we are engaging in a completely natural act. In doing so, we cause toilets to overflow due to too many “courtesy” flushes. We stop up toilets with toilet paper, somehow thinking that will mute the sounds coming from the bowl. Worse, we wait too long before going, praying we can finish shopping/working/whatever and make it home so we don’t have to go within earshot of other females. When it becomes futile to postpone the inevitable any longer, we rush to the restroom. Sometimes ladies, we don’t quite make it in time. I’ll let your imaginations work on that one a minute. And yes, it’s as bad as you imagine. Unless you have the pelvic floor and kegel muscles of a Yoga goddess, you shouldn’t try to prevent things from moving along. Go to the damn restroom. You’re never going to see those other bitches ever again anyway (unless it’s at work. Then you have to weigh if you would rather Tina in Accounting talk shit about you for taking a shit on the toilet OR taking a shit on the floor or yourself.) If you can’t bring yourself to shit in a public restroom, for Christ’s sake, don’t eat an entire Big Box meal from Taco Bell before going out knowing you have IBS.

If you thought the above paragraph was gross, don’t read this.

Why would I mention the sales floor and waste elimination in the same post?  Wait for it………wait for it………Bam! Got it?

That’s right, girls. Some of our fellow bitches are so stubborn about not shitting in public restrooms, when they’ve waited too long and now CAN’T make it to the facilities in time, they go to first available private place. Yeah…..the fitting rooms. I’ll say it again. Instead of going to the restroom, like normal humans, some women defecate in the fitting rooms. And as an added bonus, usually on a pile of clothes. Double fun for those of us that have to clean it up. It’s not bad enough we have to pick up after you like we’re your mother on the sales floor. Now we have to literally clean up after your ass, too. Women have pee’d in the fitting rooms, as well. To that I’ll say, if you have an overactive bladder to the point you’ve taken to pissing in fitting rooms, you shouldn’t leave the house. At least not without a catheter. This isn’t a problem at my store alone. This happens at EVERY store. A word from this mutha: Don’t take off your shoes in a fitting room. Ever. EVER.

The moral of today’s story? Don’t drop clothes, or anything else, on the sales floor. Thank you for shopping. Have a nice day.  :)