AngryJerk.net- Are You A Dickhead? Don't Come To A Supermarket Deli.

ARE YOU A DICKHEAD? DON'T COME TO A SUPERMARKET DELI.

A good chunk of my income revolves around computers. I can make a quick $20 removing viruses and spyware from the computer of some fuckwit who stayed up all night surfing porn because his wife wouldn't put out for him. I can make $50 selling computers that I found in the trash and rebuilt. I do this stuff an average of 10 times a week, netting me anywhere from $150 to $400 a week of untaxed income (IRS CAN'T TOUCH THIS), and that's before I factor in the money I make selling pirated movies and music, which can be anywhere from $15 a week to $50 (charging $4 a pop). The reasons I don't make a legitimate living out of computers are 1) I don't know any coding languages, and 2) nobody takes you seriously without a college degree, because a signed piece of fucking paper that you wasted 4 years and $30,000 on is the best indicator of your abilities. Besides, it's funner to not pay Filthadumpia's bullshit taxes, which are only so high because white trash, niggers, and spics are allowed to collect welfare and SSI while working under the table and not paying for jack shit except their drugs, booze, and useless luxuries. Oh, and don't forget the fact that most of the city council doesn't pay their taxes, while using their city-paid vehicles to travel outside the city. I love spotting city vehicles in places like Abington, Willow Grove, and Jenkintown on a Sunday. It makes me want to slash your fucking tires, then mug your ass while you're busy spazzing out about how you're going to have to explain to someone why you were driving a city vehicle outside the city while you weren't on the clock. Oh shit, did AJ just threaten to punish delinquent city employees? Fuck yes I did.

Anyway, while it's just enough to keep my head above the water, it's not guaranteed income. I need assurance that there will always be funds available to buy more expensive shit I don't need for my computer (Just got this new case. Shit is going to be banging, yo). Also, having cell phone service and not being homeless is pretty good too. So I had to seek out legitimate employment. This time I landed a job in a supermarket deli. I had already read this article by Haddox, so I wasn't expecting much as it was. Unfortunately, what little faith I have left in the human race is apparently too much. Goddamnjesusfuckingchrist, people who shop at supermarkets are a different breed of fucktard. I've compiled a list of the shit that pisses me off the most about these worthless wastes of oxygen.

1. YOU ARE NOT A FUCKING HEALTH INSPECTOR, SO STOP PRETENDING TO BE ONE.

I hate to break it to most of you, but there isn't a single establishment on Earth that follows the health code to a T. Do you know why? Because 75% of the health code is impractical overbearingly paranoid bullshit, and any place that did try to follow it perfectly would go under in 6 months. They'd spend $10,000 a month in disposable gloves alone, since the health code requires you to change them after every single fucking thing. You don't like the fact that the top of the lid on your potato salad touched the scale? Go use your food stamp card somewhere else, nigger. The world doesn't revolve around you and your hypochondria/desire to get the white man back.

I really hate when these dumbasses scrutinize everything I do, and complain about every little fucking thing. "Excuse me sir, that isn't wrapped properly." "I don't want that cheese after you cut it wearing the same gloves you used to cut my meat." For some odd reason, niggers are notorious for this. I suspect it has to do with them receiving some kind of satisfaction from bossing around a white guy. That's cool, because when your obnoxious Muslim ass orders that turkey ham, I'm cutting it on the same slicer that was used for pork ham. That beef bologna you ordered? Surprise, it's actually pork! When you're burning in hell because you pissed off Allah by eating pig, maybe you'll reflect back on your life and realize what an asshole you were. Just kidding, you'll be too busy suffering for all eternity.

2. Don't take a number and walk off.

I'll call your number twice. If nobody responds, I move on to the next number. It's not my fault that you took a number and waddled off to load your cart up with more junk food that your fat unsightly ass doesn't need. I have other customers to serve, customers who are actually present when their number is called. Even worse are the people who start whining, "EXCUSE ME, I'M NUMBER 40. WHY ARE YOU CALLING NUMBER 45 WHEN IT'S MY TURN?" BECAUSE YOU WEREN'T THERE WHEN I CALLED YOUR NUMBER THREE TIMES YOU FUCKING CUNT! And then you have the audacity to demand I drop what I'm doing to wait on you? Either take a new ticket or fuck off.

3. If the number I'm calling isn't yours, shut the fuck up.

Hey jackass, I called number 35, not 37. When you needlessly respond to my query for number 35 by telling me you're number 37, you're wasting my time and by extension the time of the people ahead of you in line.

4. I don't make the prices.

I'm a low-level employee who just barely makes above minimum wage. While I agree that $6.99/lb for bland turkey breast is bullshit, it's not my fault, so don't bitch at me for it.

5. Don't prattle off you entire order.

Haddox's article covered this, but holy fucking shit this is ridiculous. There's no way in hell I'm going to remember that you want 1/4 lb of bologna, 1/2 lb of American cheese sliced thin, 6 oz. of low-salt ham, and 3/4 lb of turkey breast sliced medium. What the hell does that even mean, "sliced medium"? I'll tell you what it means. It means you're a fucking retard.

Either you give me one or two things at a time, or you give me a list. Don't stand there babbling away your entire order, because I'm not even going to try to remember it all, no matter how pissed off you get about it when I ask you to repeat the rest of your order each time I finish cutting one of your items. I'm not asking you to repeat it because I'm stupid, I'm asking you to repeat it because you're stupid for expecting me to exert the effort to remember 5 different items and their associated weights and thicknesses.

6. At least try to speak somewhat clearly.

Today I had a deaf person attempt to order 1/2 lb of turkey and 1/2 lb of cheese while his wife/girlfriend/niggerpig beast who wasn't deaf stood and rolled her eyes because I couldn't understand him. Seriously, all I heard when he tried to order was "Robble robble", and this cunt who is clearly capable of placing the order for him would rather throw me dirty looks than help her disabled boyfriend/husband? I'd have kicked her fat ass to the curb 2 years ago.

The deaf guy had an excuse. The dumbass who whispered his ultra-huge order to me didn't. He then told me to clean the shit out of my ears. I told him to clean the shit out of his mouth, then proceeded to slice his cheese and liverwurst as thin as possible without chipping them. Asshole.

7. Staring vacantly at me when I call your number is a good way to be ignored.

A scenario:

Me: Number 29! *pause* 29! *pause* 29? *pause* Number 30!

Number 30: Right here.

Me: What can I get-

Asshole who was staring at me vacantly the entire time: Hey, I'm 29! Right here! I'm right here sir!

Me: Sorry sir, you didn't respond when I called your number.

Dumbass: I was looking right at you!

Me inside my head: You have a home. I will find it and kill your entire family in their sleep.

Me in reality: I'm sorry about that sir. Would your kid like a piece of cheese? Sure, just let me go in the back here and open it fresh. *takes cheese into back kitchen and sprays it with industrial strength degreaser*. Here you go, little fellow!

The above scenario happens on an almost-daily basis. If I could read minds, I wouldn't be working in a fucking supermarket deli. When I call your number, make a noise, or at the very least a hand gesture to signify that you heard me. Otherwise, you'll just have to wait.

8. Don't wait until I've cut your entire order to tell me you wanted it cut thinner or thicker.

When you don't tell me how you want your order cut, I assume you want it cut regular. Don't stand there and watch me cut an entire pound of ham then tell me you wanted it thinner or thicker. When I have to put a pound of ham worth $6.99 in with the discounted meat ends because you didn't bother to tell me how you wanted it cut until the last second, it causes the company to bitch at me for waste and shrinkage, and causes me to run to the bathroom and beat my head against the ceramic-tiled wall in rage.

Oh well, at least it's somewhat tolerable.