Reason #178 why I don't belong here

So yesterday in my running around, I had to pick up some grocery-related items at the Fred Meyer. I like the Fred Meyer for its convenience to home and for the fact that they have those self-check out lines. Those things rock. And I bet they come as a relief to teenagers buying condoms and home-pregnancy tests.

Anyway, I cruise on over to the Fred Meyer and get my stuff, and chose this time to go through a regular line. I had a cart, and the line to the self servers was actually kind of out of control - past the point of convenience. The line I got in was short, so what the hell. It gets to be my turn, and I immediately and politely tell the checker that I need cigarettes. Let me throw a little sidebar in here if I may.

I know I shouldn't be smoking so whatever, but cigarettes are no longer kept behind the checker in most of the supermarkets around here. You have to ask for them, I find, at the beginning of the situation and then they run and get them from Customer Service or someplace. Even in the self checks you ask the guy and he unlocks the case that is right there. I myself have never had to go get them - because after all, I don't know where they are.

Okay. So I tell the checker this, and she says to me, "Can you run over to Customer Service and get them and I will ring them up?" I stared at her. I said, "Will he give them to me? I mean, will he believe me?" And she said, "Sure." So, miffed, I push my empty cart a bit out of my way (but not REALLY far out, just enough to get out) and walk over to the Customer Service desk.

Now, at the Fred Meyer, that desk is for returns and exchanges and buying lottery tickets and cigarettes and all manner of Customer Service related transactions. The line at this point was 3 people deep, all with huge carts full of stuff. I loitered for just a minute, thinking if I stepped sort of up to him and said something he would toss me the smokes. Not only did he not see me nor look in my direction, in the middle of his dealing with some lady, he walked over to the phone and made a phone call (it could have been related to that transaction). His eyes did not roam and I wasn't going to be rude and step in front of the people ahead of me, so I went back to the checkout line.

I was irritated at this point because clearly the checker in her uniform and her co-worker-y-ness with the CS Desk guy would have been able to get his attention and easily grab the cigarettes. When I got back to my check out line, she was almost done with my stuff. I told her, "The line was forever and he was on the phone so I will just get them somewhere else I guess." She shrugs her shoulders. Bitch. I pay, and she leaves the bags on the counter instead of putting them in my cart. It's not a big deal but it's a bunch of little deals that are starting to piss me off. If I was at Cub Foods (bag-your-own place) or even in the self-check line I would be doing this myself anyway, but you know what? I wasn't! I am at the Fred Meyer in the full service check out line so, bitch, do your fucking job! I slammed the grocery bags into the cart, glaring at her the whole time, and then decided to go wait in the Customer Service Desk line.

There were now two people ahead of me - one lady at the desk and another with a cart full of those plastic drawer thingies I used to put my chonies in in Cancun. The guy was still on the phone. As I was waiting, some flipping meth-head comes up and stands in line behind me. Now I know Fred Meyer had nothing to do with this, but it just adds to the growing irritation level. This meth-head starts snorting and coughing and hocking up loogies that aren't there and scratching himself and clearing his throat and I mean this is CONSTANT. I am near puking at this point because I never knew you could do so much with phlegm. Seriously it was foul. I am sort of creeping closer and closer to Plastic Bin Lady but he creeps right along with me (you know how meth makes you impatient and jittery) (you don't? Well, come to the Meth Capital of the United States! You'll learn quickly). I am seriously gagging now, and have this look of just disgust on my face, and FINALLY (I mean like 10 minutes, no lie, it was almost forever) it's my turn. I coldly tell him my cigarette order and I am out of there within 50 seconds, shoving my cart past the stupid bitch at my old check out line and just disgusted with the lack of service and the meth-heads and the crap that I just had to go through in my local Fred Meyer.

You may think this is a senseless and baseless rant, and that's fine (don't make me remind you again who's blog this is). But between lousy customer service, shitty attitudes of sales clerks everywhere you go, and the flipping drug addicts that we allow to run willy nilly all over this city, I am just sick of it. People risk life and limb to get into this country on a daily basis, and yet those who had the privelege (or dumb luck) to be born here are the ones that bug the shit out of me most. Learn some manners. Have some fucking respect (self and otherwise). I'm just sick of it.