So, I wanted to make a few friends before I started 'releasting' (hahaha. I like that word. It makes me feel I'm holding awesome cards to my chest) these blogs to the site, but one shouldn't hurt. I guess it'll help my 'marketing' here and give people an idea of where I'm coming from. This is one of my favorites. =/ Probably because I felt like an asshole after I wrote it. (a rare feeling.) Hope you guys enjoy it.
The Chronicles of A Porn Clerk: November 15, 2005
This is my ode to a large group of people populating the world. I am thankful to say that I do not surround myself with this sort of personality, of my own free will. I have no such thing as a 'pity friend'. The friends I do have, I value greatly, and while I do not always keep close contact and return phone calls, those dear people understand their place in my heart.
And not a damned one of them is a manipulative crybaby.
As a porn clerk, I'm bound to a code of ethics. Most of these little porn rules are considered socially universal, though they are not written or found in the Porn Clerk's Handguide to Handling Cockmonkeys. We do not shout your late fee for the transsexual porn rented, that you decided to keep for two weeks, across the store. We do not find you in the public library and ask out loud, "How was Assault That Ass #3?" We do not out your multiple visits, to your girlfriend that you brought in for the first time, by greeting you by your first name. "We do not 'test' your sex toy for the purpose of waving it overhead and shouting 'YES, MA'AM. THIS HERE IS A GOOD ONE. YUH-HUCK.'" We are a quiet, jaded, and often underestimated lot, that enjoys laughing at you on the inside, just as much as pointing a finger at your retreating back on the outside. With that in mind, while I would enjoy publicly humiliating the manipulative crybaby that I loathe with a passion (keep in mind that they are two and they work as a team), due to my Porn Clerk Silent Code of Ethics, I will not. Though I can't say that I won't shout their late fee across the store, just to make myself feel better and quietly feign a blush and a mock apology to cover my antics. Oops.
The manipulative crybaby(/ies). We'll call them Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber. Or to make matters easier, we'll call them John and Robert. Imagine John as a fat-lipped faggot, who likely has more hair around his asshole than his scalp. His eyes bulge. I picture his driver's license showcasing his birthdate to be somewhere in the sixties, but I could be reasonably generous and say that his spitfire personality confuses others into thinking he was born in the seventies--but I doubt it. He's not fat. He's not tall. He's not short. He's not skinny. White. He's about an average a looking guy as you can get, aside from the fact that his face reminds me of a cartoon character known as Mr. Bighead from Rocco's Modern Life. He's charming when he wants to be, but I'm sure that talent only rears it's head when there's enough testosterone around to outdo Anna Nicole Smith. These are all attributes that I'm willing to forego, as I'm not vain enough to omit someone's ability into being a valuable customer based on the sheer fact that they're ugly. We'll get back into why this guy sucks in a second. I still have to introduce his butt-buddy.
Meet Robert. The kid is half the other clown's age, easily. I probably have more hair on my face than this guy does (... and I don't have facial hair people. Give me some fucking credit here.) His eyes are close set, and he's got a sweet smile. Tall, kind of skinny. I have the feeling that if he didn't get himself sucked into the blackhole of an ass that John was, he might have a chance to turn out okay in the next ten years. With the right guidance, of course (Prison might help.) Fuckface John has this kid on a leash. I don't know what the situation, sexually, financially, or socially is, and I really don't give a shit to tell you the truth, but out of sheer exposure to these clowns, it's pretty obvious that the older guy has the leash in his hand and Robert's throat in the collar. Call it respect for the elderly (and anally fucking challenged.) Robert mopes around John like a puppy waiting for John to piss so that he can roll in it and look in his master's eyes adoringly. Half the time, I expect to hear him say, "WHATEVER YOU SAY, OH GREAT LEADER OF COCK-WORSHIP." Even still, their behavior with each other doesn't bother me. It's the way they act with -me- that pisses me off.
Recently, my co-workers have had the rug pulled out from under them. I'd like to say that I know the people I work with relatively well. We're a tight-knit group that picks up on each other's ticks. I've worked with these people for years. I have a rapport with them. We have an understanding. So naturally, when some fuckface asshat that thinks he can whine about me behind my back, to a fellow coworker, about matters that are entirely unrelated to work, AND DOESN'T THINK THAT IT WON'T GET BACK TO ME. OH HO HO HO. YOU ARE SADLY MISTAKEN.
I've tethered you people enough. Allow me to cut the roast for you, and serve exactly what this fucking dish is about. An ex-coworker (we'll call her Misty) used to give these guys free rentals, until they started getting weird on her. And by weird, I mean, calling the store asking for her. Making comments about seeing her parade around in some of the costumes (which ... really aren't much more than scraps of fabric). Since Misty was a relatively good friend of mine, it's no wonder I would be relatively protective and decide to handle them from there on out. And I did. I charged them for their movie rentals.
OH MY GOD. THE WORLD ENDED FOR THEM. HOW DARE I MAKE THEM PAY FOUR DOLLARS A RENTAL. These jackasses were SO PISSED that I CHARGED them, they called the store asking for Misty to complain. She isn't a manager. ( I am.) And even if she was, DO YOU THINK COMPLAINING ABOUT PAYING FOR SOMETHING YOU TOOK FOR GRANTED WOULD REALLY DO YOU ANY GOOD. AHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA LOL @ You fucktards.
OH. But it gets better. It might have started -before- this, but their secret loathing for me spawned into other avenues. They've complained to -other- employees. Not three days ago, I watched them return rentals late. They racked an eight dollar late charge on their account. I watched my fellow co-worker (we'll call him Bob) check them in and keep the late fee on the computer. So they come in to rent the following day, and try to lie to my face with, "We were here at least before midnight. I mean, we raced to get here." (Clue: I put away rentals after midnight, just to trap assholes like you.) And when they're not happy with the resulted, "I watched you turn them in. They're late." John (remember, the older bastard) storms off to my co-worker Bob to complain.
I would be fine with complaining if I thought you were just a cheap bastard. In fact, I deal with enough cheap bastards on a regular basis to have a thick enough skin to not have to write a fucking rant every god damned day to maintain my sanity. It's the fact that you took personal shots at me because you didn't get your fucking way. And like a manipulative crybaby, started leg-humping my other employees to not only try and scam free rentals out of them, but use the opportunity to talk shit about me. This guy, this guy who looks like his mother started him off with daily collagen injections to his mouth than breast milk, said everything from "Ugh. She must have dyed her hair again to think that charging US was ok." to "Oh. My. God. She's sick. I don't want her helping us." to "Ugh. She doesn't even look female anymore." (That was the cake-topper, by the way)
The moral of the story folks: Manipulative Crybabies don't always get their way. If anything, they get bigger late fee's and an occasional "Oh. I'm sorry. It looks likes your account has been suspended. You'll need to refill out an application."*** Stop your whining. Stop taking the clerks for granted, and when you don't get your way, TAKE IT IN THE ASS LIKE YOU NORMALLY DO AND SHUT THE FUCK UP.
***Please note that it's not in my nature to purposefully sabotage someone's account, or add late fees, nor would I attempt to do so. This was written out of sheer jesting and I say such things with pure intent towards humor. Afterall, life is funny when you give it the right angle. Names have obviously been changed to protect my ass.
The Chronicles of A Porn Clerk: November 15, 2005
This is my ode to a large group of people populating the world. I am thankful to say that I do not surround myself with this sort of personality, of my own free will. I have no such thing as a 'pity friend'. The friends I do have, I value greatly, and while I do not always keep close contact and return phone calls, those dear people understand their place in my heart.
And not a damned one of them is a manipulative crybaby.
As a porn clerk, I'm bound to a code of ethics. Most of these little porn rules are considered socially universal, though they are not written or found in the Porn Clerk's Handguide to Handling Cockmonkeys. We do not shout your late fee for the transsexual porn rented, that you decided to keep for two weeks, across the store. We do not find you in the public library and ask out loud, "How was Assault That Ass #3?" We do not out your multiple visits, to your girlfriend that you brought in for the first time, by greeting you by your first name. "We do not 'test' your sex toy for the purpose of waving it overhead and shouting 'YES, MA'AM. THIS HERE IS A GOOD ONE. YUH-HUCK.'" We are a quiet, jaded, and often underestimated lot, that enjoys laughing at you on the inside, just as much as pointing a finger at your retreating back on the outside. With that in mind, while I would enjoy publicly humiliating the manipulative crybaby that I loathe with a passion (keep in mind that they are two and they work as a team), due to my Porn Clerk Silent Code of Ethics, I will not. Though I can't say that I won't shout their late fee across the store, just to make myself feel better and quietly feign a blush and a mock apology to cover my antics. Oops.
The manipulative crybaby(/ies). We'll call them Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber. Or to make matters easier, we'll call them John and Robert. Imagine John as a fat-lipped faggot, who likely has more hair around his asshole than his scalp. His eyes bulge. I picture his driver's license showcasing his birthdate to be somewhere in the sixties, but I could be reasonably generous and say that his spitfire personality confuses others into thinking he was born in the seventies--but I doubt it. He's not fat. He's not tall. He's not short. He's not skinny. White. He's about an average a looking guy as you can get, aside from the fact that his face reminds me of a cartoon character known as Mr. Bighead from Rocco's Modern Life. He's charming when he wants to be, but I'm sure that talent only rears it's head when there's enough testosterone around to outdo Anna Nicole Smith. These are all attributes that I'm willing to forego, as I'm not vain enough to omit someone's ability into being a valuable customer based on the sheer fact that they're ugly. We'll get back into why this guy sucks in a second. I still have to introduce his butt-buddy.
Meet Robert. The kid is half the other clown's age, easily. I probably have more hair on my face than this guy does (... and I don't have facial hair people. Give me some fucking credit here.) His eyes are close set, and he's got a sweet smile. Tall, kind of skinny. I have the feeling that if he didn't get himself sucked into the blackhole of an ass that John was, he might have a chance to turn out okay in the next ten years. With the right guidance, of course (Prison might help.) Fuckface John has this kid on a leash. I don't know what the situation, sexually, financially, or socially is, and I really don't give a shit to tell you the truth, but out of sheer exposure to these clowns, it's pretty obvious that the older guy has the leash in his hand and Robert's throat in the collar. Call it respect for the elderly (and anally fucking challenged.) Robert mopes around John like a puppy waiting for John to piss so that he can roll in it and look in his master's eyes adoringly. Half the time, I expect to hear him say, "WHATEVER YOU SAY, OH GREAT LEADER OF COCK-WORSHIP." Even still, their behavior with each other doesn't bother me. It's the way they act with -me- that pisses me off.
Recently, my co-workers have had the rug pulled out from under them. I'd like to say that I know the people I work with relatively well. We're a tight-knit group that picks up on each other's ticks. I've worked with these people for years. I have a rapport with them. We have an understanding. So naturally, when some fuckface asshat that thinks he can whine about me behind my back, to a fellow coworker, about matters that are entirely unrelated to work, AND DOESN'T THINK THAT IT WON'T GET BACK TO ME. OH HO HO HO. YOU ARE SADLY MISTAKEN.
I've tethered you people enough. Allow me to cut the roast for you, and serve exactly what this fucking dish is about. An ex-coworker (we'll call her Misty) used to give these guys free rentals, until they started getting weird on her. And by weird, I mean, calling the store asking for her. Making comments about seeing her parade around in some of the costumes (which ... really aren't much more than scraps of fabric). Since Misty was a relatively good friend of mine, it's no wonder I would be relatively protective and decide to handle them from there on out. And I did. I charged them for their movie rentals.
OH MY GOD. THE WORLD ENDED FOR THEM. HOW DARE I MAKE THEM PAY FOUR DOLLARS A RENTAL. These jackasses were SO PISSED that I CHARGED them, they called the store asking for Misty to complain. She isn't a manager. ( I am.) And even if she was, DO YOU THINK COMPLAINING ABOUT PAYING FOR SOMETHING YOU TOOK FOR GRANTED WOULD REALLY DO YOU ANY GOOD. AHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA LOL @ You fucktards.
OH. But it gets better. It might have started -before- this, but their secret loathing for me spawned into other avenues. They've complained to -other- employees. Not three days ago, I watched them return rentals late. They racked an eight dollar late charge on their account. I watched my fellow co-worker (we'll call him Bob) check them in and keep the late fee on the computer. So they come in to rent the following day, and try to lie to my face with, "We were here at least before midnight. I mean, we raced to get here." (Clue: I put away rentals after midnight, just to trap assholes like you.) And when they're not happy with the resulted, "I watched you turn them in. They're late." John (remember, the older bastard) storms off to my co-worker Bob to complain.
I would be fine with complaining if I thought you were just a cheap bastard. In fact, I deal with enough cheap bastards on a regular basis to have a thick enough skin to not have to write a fucking rant every god damned day to maintain my sanity. It's the fact that you took personal shots at me because you didn't get your fucking way. And like a manipulative crybaby, started leg-humping my other employees to not only try and scam free rentals out of them, but use the opportunity to talk shit about me. This guy, this guy who looks like his mother started him off with daily collagen injections to his mouth than breast milk, said everything from "Ugh. She must have dyed her hair again to think that charging US was ok." to "Oh. My. God. She's sick. I don't want her helping us." to "Ugh. She doesn't even look female anymore." (That was the cake-topper, by the way)
The moral of the story folks: Manipulative Crybabies don't always get their way. If anything, they get bigger late fee's and an occasional "Oh. I'm sorry. It looks likes your account has been suspended. You'll need to refill out an application."*** Stop your whining. Stop taking the clerks for granted, and when you don't get your way, TAKE IT IN THE ASS LIKE YOU NORMALLY DO AND SHUT THE FUCK UP.
***Please note that it's not in my nature to purposefully sabotage someone's account, or add late fees, nor would I attempt to do so. This was written out of sheer jesting and I say such things with pure intent towards humor. Afterall, life is funny when you give it the right angle. Names have obviously been changed to protect my ass.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
morwok:
Haha, excellent story. It even has a moral and everything. And I definitely appreciate the Rocko's Modern Life reference. I miss that show.
satsujin:
So here's a slice of irony for me. I haven't seen these assholes that I wrote that blog about in months. I think I have a mild case of psychic powers, because of course, the day I drag this bitch out to post here, is the day that those fucking asshats reappear. God damn them. (roar). I wasn't surprised when I spotted them tag-teaming another manager to lower their ridiculous late fee. ($88, btw. OOOOOH SCORE.) A small part of me rejoiced when the credit card got SWIPED. 