I don’t know you personally. The only reason I know your name is because of your name-tag. It’s obvious that you don’t like your job much. And that you enjoy getting snarky with your customers and think that it is appropriate.
Sadly for you, today was not a great day to get all pissy with me about the size of the dog bone that I purchase roughly about once a week from your store. It took all of my energy to get here today to buy a few household items and I feel like a used Handi-Wipe.
Yes, I called you out for overcharging me. The bone that I get my dog is 10 inches, not 14. Because there is a 3 dollar difference between the cost and I am poor.
And yes, it does look awfully big, doesn’t it? Would you like to see the bigger one? Perhaps if I shoved it up your
ass nose you could tell the difference. Maybe you need to take a walk over to the pet supplies and check the bins that hold the dog bones.
Probably not worth it, I suspect. Because you hate your job in the 12 items or less lane. Don’t blame you there.
I almost went to customer service and complained about you, but then decided to let it go. One of these days someone is going to punch you in the face. But it won’t be me, because I don’t want to get in trouble or break a nail.
I sincerely hope that I never have you as a cashier again.
A Grumpy Bitch