Genevieve Moulin
The Gypsy
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Fantasy The MPC Rushes Story, Cont.
- Thread starter Arkadious
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ArtBlott
Just the Worst
Ok, I'm home, so, who is actually interested in my Top 3 WTF Walmart Stories?
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
OOOOH! ME! (OUO)ArtBlott said:
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
Alrighty, then, here we go: Back in the days of yore, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was but a mere 20 year old (so basically, about 5 years ago), I was a cashier at a Walmart Super Center. And I saw some stuff, maaaan. Here is...story number one.
STORY NUMBER ONE - Cancer
I was usually scheduled for the busier shifts, being a part-time grunt, but it made the time go by, so it wasn't a problem. So I'm scanning stuff, doing my thing, and being glowered at by old people for having pink hair. Par for the course. So, my next lady-with-a-cart rolls up, and she has THREE CARTS full of stuff, being wrangled by her, and her husband. Not super unusual, but that's a lot of food. They load their stuff on the belt, I grab the first thing I see, and scan it...and the WORLD HAS ENDED PEOPLE! I am suddenly not being yelled at, nor fussed at, but WAILED at. "Noooooo, noooooo, whyyyy, how could you doooo thaaaat?"
I am baffled. This lady is turning into a ghost. A wailing banshee. All she needed what a white sheet and some flailing arms. She tells me to cancel the scan, and put that away, and tells her husband to get a new...whatever. I am then informed that I am NOT to scan ANYTHING in her carts. The rays, you see, will get into the food, and even if it's just a little bit, the rays will add up as her family eats it, and they will get sick. She knows, because her mother got cancer from the 'scanning rays' that everyone uses. Three carts. Stacked high. To code by hand...
Sure, fine, whatever. I'm sure the processed "meat"-loaf and frozen-fried-porkbutts shall help you live a long and healthy life. Farewell, strange scanner-ray lady. May you ever get pulled aside at TSA checkpoints.
STORY NUMBER ONE - Cancer
I was usually scheduled for the busier shifts, being a part-time grunt, but it made the time go by, so it wasn't a problem. So I'm scanning stuff, doing my thing, and being glowered at by old people for having pink hair. Par for the course. So, my next lady-with-a-cart rolls up, and she has THREE CARTS full of stuff, being wrangled by her, and her husband. Not super unusual, but that's a lot of food. They load their stuff on the belt, I grab the first thing I see, and scan it...and the WORLD HAS ENDED PEOPLE! I am suddenly not being yelled at, nor fussed at, but WAILED at. "Noooooo, noooooo, whyyyy, how could you doooo thaaaat?"
I am baffled. This lady is turning into a ghost. A wailing banshee. All she needed what a white sheet and some flailing arms. She tells me to cancel the scan, and put that away, and tells her husband to get a new...whatever. I am then informed that I am NOT to scan ANYTHING in her carts. The rays, you see, will get into the food, and even if it's just a little bit, the rays will add up as her family eats it, and they will get sick. She knows, because her mother got cancer from the 'scanning rays' that everyone uses. Three carts. Stacked high. To code by hand...
Sure, fine, whatever. I'm sure the processed "meat"-loaf and frozen-fried-porkbutts shall help you live a long and healthy life. Farewell, strange scanner-ray lady. May you ever get pulled aside at TSA checkpoints.
Genevieve Moulin
The Gypsy
Oh, God, Blott! I am literally laughing myself silly right now. Out loud. That's hilarious.
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
Oh. My. God. That. Is. A. Ma. Zing.
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
I'm so glad everyone liked it! This gives me hope for
STORY NUMBER TWO - Not As Traumatizing as One Would Think
As we all know, Walmart gets some weirdos. Some are harmless. Some are creepy. And some are creepy in a 'where's-my-tazer' way. This is a story about the latter.
I never had much to do with stocking or running around. The cash register was my station, but there was always someone trying to grab me for directions, or can I get this or that, or where's the [blank] when I went to clock in or out. Well, in this instance, I'm trying to leave when someone decides I should get them a box. But not just any box. If I remember, it was some big name-brand printer that lived on the top shelf of an isle. So, I have to fetch a ladder. But we don't use normal ladders, we use big, industrial monsters. Big, heavy, industrial monsters on slick waxed floors. Today, momentum was my enemy.
As I'm sure you've guessed, I drug the ladder over (from halfway across the store), but couldn't stop it in time. It cracked into the shelves. And...the shelves cracked back. On the opposing side, an over loaded shelf of CD players and I don't remember what else broke right off it's screws, and tipped down onto some poor dude below. Chaos ensued, security happened, and I was terrified.
Now here's the fun part. Security got there REALLY fast. Like, before the dust had settled. So I rounded the corner to these two cops gingerly helping up...a naked guy. They had been called three minutes before I broke everything because this dude in a big old peacoat was wandering isles and flashing people his sun-baked cocktail weenie.
The aftermath of this story is disappointing, really. I got a stern talking-to about equipment use (namely, I'm a cashier, don't use the equipment for not-cashiering), but otherwise I wasn't fired or written up, which, considering at least one of those old-fashioned ghetto blasters had to have smacked his shlong, I'm totally cool with.
STORY NUMBER TWO - Not As Traumatizing as One Would Think
As we all know, Walmart gets some weirdos. Some are harmless. Some are creepy. And some are creepy in a 'where's-my-tazer' way. This is a story about the latter.
I never had much to do with stocking or running around. The cash register was my station, but there was always someone trying to grab me for directions, or can I get this or that, or where's the [blank] when I went to clock in or out. Well, in this instance, I'm trying to leave when someone decides I should get them a box. But not just any box. If I remember, it was some big name-brand printer that lived on the top shelf of an isle. So, I have to fetch a ladder. But we don't use normal ladders, we use big, industrial monsters. Big, heavy, industrial monsters on slick waxed floors. Today, momentum was my enemy.
As I'm sure you've guessed, I drug the ladder over (from halfway across the store), but couldn't stop it in time. It cracked into the shelves. And...the shelves cracked back. On the opposing side, an over loaded shelf of CD players and I don't remember what else broke right off it's screws, and tipped down onto some poor dude below. Chaos ensued, security happened, and I was terrified.
Now here's the fun part. Security got there REALLY fast. Like, before the dust had settled. So I rounded the corner to these two cops gingerly helping up...a naked guy. They had been called three minutes before I broke everything because this dude in a big old peacoat was wandering isles and flashing people his sun-baked cocktail weenie.
The aftermath of this story is disappointing, really. I got a stern talking-to about equipment use (namely, I'm a cashier, don't use the equipment for not-cashiering), but otherwise I wasn't fired or written up, which, considering at least one of those old-fashioned ghetto blasters had to have smacked his shlong, I'm totally cool with.
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
THIS IS GOLD.ArtBlott said:
Genevieve Moulin
The Gypsy
I have not laughed this hard in years.
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
Ok, so this last one is the saddest, so if you start feeling down, please see stories one and two. And now
STORY NUMBER THREE - "MY BABIES!!"
I'm starting this story on the assumption you guys know what WIC is. Or SNAP. Or food stamps, as it used to be known. Yeah, I said this was a sad one. So this lady comes up in my line. She's seen better days. She has no less than four children with her, two toddlers, one about seven (I'm terrible with ages), and one baby. She also has greasy, stringy hair, an unhealthy palor, and a serious meth mouth. Yeah. Sad. Oh, and she had 'the shakes.' The kids were fine, just a little grubby looking, but kids are always a little grubby looking. It's a state of being for them.
So this lady plugs her WIC card into the card reader, and we get to scannin' No cancer here folks, but it is protocol to ask when an item omes up that WIC doesn't cover. FORTH WE GO: Baby food. Milk. Eggs. Those Iron-Sponge things? Not covered. You want 'em? Oki-doke. Canned veggies. and so it goes. Until. UNTIL.
The bread. WIC covers some kinds of bread. Like, baseline bread. She had selected...not that bread. I scan it. Boopboop! I'm sorry ma'am, this isn't covered by WIC, do you still want it?
She leans in, hovering over the card-reader like a vulture. "whatdoyoumean?"
I beg your pardon?
"What. Do. You. Mean. I always get that bread. It's the only kind my babies will eat. Ican'thaveit?!"
Whoa. Ok. You CAN. But WIC won't pay for it.
"...so...you don't care? That my babies will starve? THIS IS THE ONLY BREAD THEY EAT! I'VE GOTTEN IT BEFORE." She grabs the card reader and is SHAKING it, "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT MY BABIES! MY BAAAABIEEEEEEES."
I'm thinking I'm going to die. She is going to rip my throat out with her teeth. So I ask, Ma'am, are you ok?
She freezes. Deer in the headlights. Moth before a flame. Rabbit before a wolf. She turns, reached into a bag of already packed up groceries (doesn't grab the bag itself) and pulls out an armful food, and just books it for the door. Policy says she can't be stopped, so...there she goes. Leaving her bread. And her four kids. Well then.
I get pulled off register and go, with the kids, to the customer service center. I read to them from a book out of a returns basket. Police are called, the children was quizzed, a few bystanders are questioned, and I'm questions. Do I know this lady? Am I related to her? Have I babysat for her before? Over and over, small variations of the same question, do I know this crazy lady somehow. I do not.
The kicker, she left her WIC card in the machine. You know, the WIC card with her full name, address, etc? I was informed later by my manager she would be charged, at least, for theft and child endangerment. It was a really weird day.
And with that, I leave you with this to cheer you up a bit:
<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/puppy-basket.jpg.c83b74ddeb71cdee701a918e7c356e5c.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="90659" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/puppy-basket.jpg.c83b74ddeb71cdee701a918e7c356e5c.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
STORY NUMBER THREE - "MY BABIES!!"
I'm starting this story on the assumption you guys know what WIC is. Or SNAP. Or food stamps, as it used to be known. Yeah, I said this was a sad one. So this lady comes up in my line. She's seen better days. She has no less than four children with her, two toddlers, one about seven (I'm terrible with ages), and one baby. She also has greasy, stringy hair, an unhealthy palor, and a serious meth mouth. Yeah. Sad. Oh, and she had 'the shakes.' The kids were fine, just a little grubby looking, but kids are always a little grubby looking. It's a state of being for them.
So this lady plugs her WIC card into the card reader, and we get to scannin' No cancer here folks, but it is protocol to ask when an item omes up that WIC doesn't cover. FORTH WE GO: Baby food. Milk. Eggs. Those Iron-Sponge things? Not covered. You want 'em? Oki-doke. Canned veggies. and so it goes. Until. UNTIL.
The bread. WIC covers some kinds of bread. Like, baseline bread. She had selected...not that bread. I scan it. Boopboop! I'm sorry ma'am, this isn't covered by WIC, do you still want it?
She leans in, hovering over the card-reader like a vulture. "whatdoyoumean?"
I beg your pardon?
"What. Do. You. Mean. I always get that bread. It's the only kind my babies will eat. Ican'thaveit?!"
Whoa. Ok. You CAN. But WIC won't pay for it.
"...so...you don't care? That my babies will starve? THIS IS THE ONLY BREAD THEY EAT! I'VE GOTTEN IT BEFORE." She grabs the card reader and is SHAKING it, "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT MY BABIES! MY BAAAABIEEEEEEES."
I'm thinking I'm going to die. She is going to rip my throat out with her teeth. So I ask, Ma'am, are you ok?
She freezes. Deer in the headlights. Moth before a flame. Rabbit before a wolf. She turns, reached into a bag of already packed up groceries (doesn't grab the bag itself) and pulls out an armful food, and just books it for the door. Policy says she can't be stopped, so...there she goes. Leaving her bread. And her four kids. Well then.
I get pulled off register and go, with the kids, to the customer service center. I read to them from a book out of a returns basket. Police are called, the children was quizzed, a few bystanders are questioned, and I'm questions. Do I know this lady? Am I related to her? Have I babysat for her before? Over and over, small variations of the same question, do I know this crazy lady somehow. I do not.
The kicker, she left her WIC card in the machine. You know, the WIC card with her full name, address, etc? I was informed later by my manager she would be charged, at least, for theft and child endangerment. It was a really weird day.
And with that, I leave you with this to cheer you up a bit:
<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/puppy-basket.jpg.c83b74ddeb71cdee701a918e7c356e5c.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="90659" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/puppy-basket.jpg.c83b74ddeb71cdee701a918e7c356e5c.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
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Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
So many people in this world who really need help ( 
)
Although at the end I saw the picture and squealed "OH NO!" and then my dog Kenji came over and just HAD to get up in my lap to lick my face. Can't have mama cooing over some other dogs, no no.
)Although at the end I saw the picture and squealed "OH NO!" and then my dog Kenji came over and just HAD to get up in my lap to lick my face. Can't have mama cooing over some other dogs, no no.
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
She was probably trying to save you. That is a dangerously cute picture.
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
It is very, very cute. Now he's whining at me to go outside, though, so maybe he just wanted my attention because he has to pee. Silly pup.
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
Oh my gosh your cosplay stuff is PRECIOUS and gorgeous and amazing. It makes me want to pet your face (that's a good thing).
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
Lol, thank you! I do try very hard. I wish I had the time/funds to do more costumes and go to more conventions, though. I always seem to want to cosplay whatever I'm newly obsessed with, so now I want to cosplay Lisbeth (> 
) I keep thinking "Omg, wouldn't it be amazing if we all met at a con and cosplayed our characters?!" and then I have to tell myself, "That would be expensive and no one else outside the group would know who you were, so stop it."
) I keep thinking "Omg, wouldn't it be amazing if we all met at a con and cosplayed our characters?!" and then I have to tell myself, "That would be expensive and no one else outside the group would know who you were, so stop it."
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Arkadious
The Pale Stranger
We'd know. And we'd give each other knowing winks and nods as we passed, the other con-goers baffled by our fabulousness
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
I actually go to Akon every year in some cosplay or another. It's always fun to catch someone else dressed up for 'your' show. Eyebrow waggles and winking abounds.
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
We could all go on a grand adventure, which at a con is wandering around late at night, finding random karaoke parties, checking out the rave for three minutes, getting drunk with total strangers, and finding out that you're distantly, distantly related to a woman you meet at the bar through an ancient Swedish King.
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
Ok, maybe that last part doesn't happen to everyone.
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
Oh gosh, the rave. Both my usual con'panions love the rave. They kind of weird me out. I can't stand in the front, because of the crazy dancing and noise, and the back is all sketchy, so I have to kind of hang out in the middle and see how many glowy things I can juggle at once without running into anyone.
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
When we go, we usually wander in, dance with each other for a minute, look at each other and go "Do you wanna stay?" "Nah." "Me neither." "Ok." We don't really have rave gear or even really know how to do the whole glowy things bit. There has to be a really good DJ for us to want to stay.
Arkadious
The Pale Stranger
ah...I remember my first rave...I was working security...
ArtBlott
Just the Worst
I, uh, go in jeans and a t-shirt I think might look cool under blacklight, so I'm definitely with you on that. I don't know all the glowy tricks, I can just juggle the rings you can make out of them. My max is three though, and not for long. Of course, Akon plays anime and game remixes for the first hour, so it's nice to listen to
Lisbeth Walpurgis
The Writer
Nice! I've never been to A-kon. I've been going to Otakon every year since 2006, and Katsucon and DragonCon for the past two years. But wandering around DragonCon late at night is probably the highlight of my life. 70,000+ geeks all drinking and partying and just living the geek life. So amazing. We had to cut back on cons for 2016, so it looks like DragonCon will be the only one we go to.
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