Great moments in work history - I believe the children are our future(Darwin Award winners).

I've had a number of different jobs over the years.  I've sold everything from rubber dicks to women's shoes, and I have plenty of stories to tell about these jobs as well.  Right now, I'm thinking that weekends may need to be devoted to letters to the patrons of these former places of employment.  It can't hurt to change things up a little here and there.

Today, we have a letter to the customers of a craft store I worked in a number of years back.  I visited one the other day, and sadly, this letter is still applicable.

Dear customers -

I can't stress enough the importance of supervising your children when you venture out into the world.  They're kids.  Kids have a tendency to do stupid shit.  It is your job as parents to teach them not to do stupid shit, and not merely expect the employees of whatever retail establishment they happen to be terrorizing to do it for you.

What it all boils down to is this - the fake fruit we sell?  Yeah.  It's fake.  I know it looks yummy, but it's not food.  Every single night that I clean that particular section of the store, I find at least half a dozen pieces of plastic fruit sporting teeth marks.  It never fails.  I'd tell you to feed your damn kids before you leave the house, yet for some strange reason, I get the feeling that they don't do this at the supermarket.  You've taught them not to eat things there, but not at the craft store.  There's something wrong with this picture.  Just because it looks like food doesn't mean that it's food.  Have fun when your little bastard poops out a bunch of plastic grapes.


Signed,
Your disgruntled retail associate.
 

Today's PSA for birth control - teenage girls are vile creatures.

Dear customers -

No, you can't have a children's size hot chocolate. I know you're at that delicate age where you want Mommy and Daddy to treat you like an adult, but you're still a child.  However, in this particular scenario, you do not qualify as a child.  You drove here.  I saw you.  I'm guessing that's Mommy's Lexus.  In case you can't read - put down the cell phone, little girl - the menu board clearly says "12 and under".  If you're old enough to give a blowjob, you're too fucking old for a children's hot chocolate.  There's a fun idea for you - just don't do it in our bathroom.

And don't sit on my fucking tables. I don't know where your skanky ass has been.  Two minutes ago, you were practically giving your boyfriend a lap dance in the cafe, so I'm sure I don't want to know. But it damn sure doesn't belong on my fucking tables. You wouldn't do that at home, would you? Fuck you, and fuck your parents for raising you to be spoiled brats. 

Now go the fuck home. We close at 10. Don't call to ask when we close, show up at 9:58, and just hang out without buying anything. Get the fuck out of my store. Go loiter in front of the 7-11 like normal teenagers.

Signed,

The disgruntled barista who never would have behaved that way when she was your age.

Today's PSA for birth control - Bad seeds and coffee beans.

Dear customers -

No, we do not think it's cute when you allow your two-year-old to run behind the counter.  This presents a safety hazard to everyone involved, and none of us is in the mood for a lawsuit today.  We really don't think it's cute when your child begins pulling bottles out of the refrigerated case - or better yet, products from the retail display - and breaking them.  You will have to pay for the damaged items, and will probably receive a number of dirty looks while we clean up after your precious angel.  Considering that you haven't so much as looked at the little fucker since you came in 45 minutes ago, that money would have been better spent on birth control.

Signed,
Your disgruntled barista - not your fucking babysitter.