Customers: Satan's Punishment for the Slacker Genius

I hate customers.

The old saying "a person is smart, people are stupid" applies here. On average, I get the dumbest, most idiotic, rudest, and most insufferable people coming up to my department's counter.

Now, before I continue, I know a lot of you that have worked customer-oriented are probably saying to your computer monitor "But Jason, EVERYONE that works in those sort of jobs deal with these sort of problems. Yours aren't anything new!" First of all, fuck you. Second of all, fuck you again. Third of all, this is for those out there that HAVEN'T worked at soul-crushing minimum wage hellhole.

Let me run you through an average day at my job, diluted down to the basest level of stupidity from the customers, or as I will henceforth refer to them: assholes.

Hour 1:

• Get asked where the Cool Whip is
• Cut 2 slices of cheese for someone
• Get asked where the hot chicken is...when the hot bar is ten feet from them

Hour 2:

• Spend 15 minutes explaining to someone why I don't have any other thawed cakes than the ones in the case
• Spend another 10 minutes explaining to someone else why I can't open another package of some meat or cheese
• Get asked where the Cool Whip is

Hour 3:

• Have no customers for half an hour, go on a smoke break, get a customer while on smoke break
• Have a customer address me like they've been waiting at the counter for 10 minutes when, in reality, it was 30 seconds
• Have that same customer, who was in such a hurry to be served, take 10 minutes deciding what they want while making me stand there

Hour 4:

• Get called in from a cigarette break, only to find the customer has fled. 
• Get asked where the Cool Whip is
• Wipe off the slicers 5 minutes before closing to get a jump on cleaning...only to have someone come up RIGHT AFTER I FINISH and ask for the dirtiest, messiest meats. 

Hour 5:

• Get asked at least 5 times if we're closed...when there's a sign right in front of them saying we are
• Find a minimum of 15 misplaced items carelessly stuck somewhere in the shelves and displays of my department, including frozen goods on the hot bar.
• Get asked, throughout the shift, if I can help someone at customer service when I'm CLEARLY wearing a hairnet and apron. 
• And, of course, get asked where the Cool Whip is

My only joy is the comfort I have in knowing...no. No, I take that back. There is no joy.

Only pain.