AJnet Archives: Are you a dickhead? Don’t come to a supermarket deli. (Removed article)
This month from the AJnet Archives: A previously removed article about the annoying things customers do at supermarket delis!
Of all the jobs I’ve worked, my nine years as the assistant deli manager at ShopRite has had the most impact on the person I am now.
I started my tenure with ShopRite in early 2010, after returning from living in the Pocono mountains for two years with a girlfriend who was twice my age. I was a drunk, high, aimless, and degree-less 22 year old desperate for money, so I took the first shitty job that called me back. Slinging cold cuts for $8.50 an hour wasn’t my dream job, but it put money back into my severely depleted bank account and kept my mom off my back.
If you had told me then that I’d eventually be running the deli department, I’d have probably agreed with you and given some half-cocked speech about how great I was as I took another shot of Jack Daniels or Yukon Jack and chased it down with a beer, all the while secretly feeling empty and worthless.
My journey to being assistant deli manager started with them asking me if I wanted to be in charge one night a week. Eventually I became the night shift manager full-time. From there, I was offered the position of assistant deli manager after the guy before me got caught on camera trying to frame me for bullshit.
I left ShopRite in 2019, after not being able to endure anymore of my boss’s bullshit, for a job in medical manufacturing. I’d eventually leave that job too after a small altercation with a coworker and her father (who was a manager), but that’s another story for another time.
I learned a lot during my nine years at ShopRite, but one of the greatest lessons that I learned was that people are fucking stupid.
Working on the deli counter, I got to meet some of the dumbest, most ignorant motherfuckers ever. I’m not going to pretend that I was a paragon of intellect, but I’m amazed that some of these people knew how to breathe let alone formulate the words required to order their lunchmeat (some of them could barely do that much, as you’ll see in a moment). I had one lady ask me what the difference was between half a pound and a quarter of a pound, then get offended when I laughed because I thought she was just joking with me.
I wrote about ShopRite quite a bit over the years, though I never named it for obvious reasons. The earliest example I have is my “AJ’s Guide to Success” article from late 2010. I also mention it in some other articles too, like “Private businesses are not bound by the Constitution” and “How to actually respond to an active shooter situation”.
But there was another article, one that focused specifically on the brand of bullshit that came with waiting on customers at a supermarket deli. This article, titled “Are you a dickhead? Don’t come to a supermarket deli”, was originally published in June of 2010, about three months after I started my job. It was heavily inspired by an article from Haddox over at Sydlexia (who I’d later interview for Rantlister), which I made sure to mention in my own article.
This article, like many of the removed articles I’ve reposted, was pulled during my attempts to “legitimize” the site and clean it up to make it seem more professional so I could appeal to a larger audience and try to monetize it, and to remove the risk of being cancelled later should I gain fame. I’m genuinely glad my efforts failed, there’s already enough fake assholes on the internet as it is. I’m also lucky enough to be in a position now where, short of finding a way to stick me in prison, it’s impossible to cancel me.
This is “Are you a dickhead? Don’t come to a supermarket deli.”, originally published on 6/15/2010.
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 people 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, Jamal. 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, black Muslims 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/pet hambeast 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.
For some reason, black people were always the biggest “clean freaks”. I understood why Muslims would want me to change gloves (or usually clean down an entire slicer) to avoid contact with pork, but the stuff our black customers complained about was ridiculous sometimes. The lid thing was real, and it happened quite often. They’d also lean over the counter and watch us like hawks while we were cutting their stuff. Black people were by far the pickiest customers we had, and I genuinely think it at least somewhat had to do with exercising an element of control over white people. Obviously not all black customers were like this, but to say that a lot of them weren’t would be denying the obvious truth.
It was amazing how many people would grab a ticket and wander off, then get indignant when their number “wasn’t called”. Bitch, we called your number like three times. It’s not my fault you wandered off.
The closest I ever got to an explanation for this stupid behavior was a little old lady who kindly explained that she assumed we called the numbers out over the intercom. I’m not sure how she came to that assumption, but she got a pass because she was old and polite. The fat cunt who shopped there every week didn’t get a pass, because she was a nasty bitch who should have known better.
People randomly calling out their numbers was another thing I never quite understood. As I worked there longer and became more experienced, I learned to ignore these idiots and make sure to call each number. Newer employees would often fuck up and take these people next, which led to more than one fight between customers. I saw a woman get choke-slammed into a cheese display over this, after she told the other woman she was pregnant and the other woman replied “Your face ain’t pregnant bitch!”
As a lowly deli clerk, I lost count of how many customers would yell at me when the price of something went up. It didn’t get any better when I became management. Prices were set by the corporate office in Wakefern, NJ. Call 1-800-SHOPRITE and fuck off.
Learning to memorize long orders was a skill that took me a few years to master, and I ended up becoming quite good at it. But I can understand that not everyone can do this, and it can be a real pain in the ass when you forget something and the customer has wandered off to the other side of the store. Then you have to wait for them to return. Meanwhile other customers see you standing there and get angry because they assume you’re just dicking around. Just give me a list if you have some ultra-specific order and want to go do other shopping.
Another thing most people don’t realize is that it’s actually fairly hard to hear behind the deli counter. You have a huge wall of glass and metal up to your neck, with machinery going next to you. Throw that in with all the general noise that occurs in a grocery store, and it takes some effort to hear customers sometimes. Speak up. And, for fuck’s sake, DON’T let your deaf husband order when you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself. It’s already hard enough to hear, now I have to translate “GUNV MUH UH PUND UNV HAMN SICED UNXTRUH THUN”.
If you hear me call your number, acknowledge that you heard me. Don’t stand there staring stupidly then get angry when I move on to the next number. Sooooo many customers did this, it was frustrating as fuck. At least raise your hand or something.
There’s a special place in Hell for the retards who would watch me cut their entire order, then tell me they wanted it thicker or thinner and make me recut it. You couldn’t have stopped me sooner? Even worse was when I’d show them the first slice, they’d say it was okay, then complain after I finished cutting everything. I swear some people did that shit on purpose just to be dicks.
All in all, while I’m glad I got out of there and moved on to greater things, I’m also glad I got to experience my time at ShopRite. I learned a lot of valuable people skills that I still apply to this day, and I think everyone should do some kind of customer service job for at least a little bit. It helps build humility, and it gives you a sense of compassion and appreciation for the minimum wage workers who do all the “dirty” work to keep the little things we take for granted running.
I have a couple more AJnet Archives articles that revolve around ShopRite and grocery stores, but I think next month we’ll take a break from that and do something else. I have an unfinished article about how people in Gotham City are stupid because they can’t figure out that Bruce Wayne is Batman, so maybe I’ll go with that.
Also, I just realized this, but this article is coincidentally scheduled to post exactly six years after I left ShopRite. I swear this wasn’t planned.
