gary oldmans diary posted:

big box retail store. me working. hear a loud whistle behind me, look over my shoulder. is customer waiting with arms crossed. i have been detected (!)
resume working
"Ahem!"

"Oh, hi. I didn't see you there."
The customer's mouth moves but all you hear are ocean waves crashing over themselves and drifting onto white sands. The sun is beating down on your tanned body, but it isn't unpleasant. You have a cold drink in your hand. What is it? You take a sip. There's a tartness masking a great deal of alcohol. It's delicious. You notice a girl face down on a blanket about a hundred feet down the beach. My god has she undone her top? I have to go in that direction for a little peek. The dry sand burns my feet, so I move slightly into the water. If the view of this girl pans out I might want to go waist deep.
The customer's mouth has stopped moving.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know about that."

Oscar Wild posted:

I run a major retail chain; let's call it lest lie.

Ohnonotme posted:

Why not just call it Best Buy instead? I don't think they are tracking you.

Dave_Indeed posted:

I went to microcenter yesterday and I had to ask a retail worker where something was.

*shivers*

gary oldmans diary posted:

he runs the whole chain. he is the they

Blurry Gray Thing posted:

It's two PM. The small hours. The bad hours. The hours that try men's souls. If you're like me, that's when all your old mistakes, all your doubts gang up on you. Knock you down, work you over, kick you right in your old wounds until they bleed again, fresh as ever, and the answers to the important questions stop making sense. Why go on? Why bother?

Sure, I've got it all figured out, the rest of the time. I got my reasons to do what I do. Good reasons. Student loan payments. The cute girl down at the bakery. Employee discount at the deli section, and some of those salads really are damned good. But at 2 PM, deep into my shift but nowhere near its end, none of them ring true. None of those are the real one.

I see trouble coming for me from a mile away, but like a deer facing down a pair of high beams, I'm too drat stupid to run. Thirty-five going on fifty. Mother of two point five kids. Sensible, low-maintenance haircut. Danger, capitalized and burning. And in the back of my head, there's that little voice. The voice I try to drown in cheap gin every night. The voice that's gonna get me killed one day, or maybe even worse. It's saying 'this woman needs help', and drat me if I don't listen to it.

That's the real reason. I'm too drat stupid to quit.

"Hello, ma'am, how can I help you?" I say. My words taste like cigarette ash and cheap gin in my mouth. Most words do.

"Uh, yes," she says. Then she smiles, awkward. She catches on that I said how can I, and not just can I. I smile back to let her know it's okay, and it is. You don't work this beat as long as I have without running into that a thousand times over, into that and worse. "Do you still carry rye bread? It's just, I checked over there, and I didn't see any."

"Yes ma'am," I say. "It's over on isle two now."

"Oh!" she says. "Yes, I thought things looked a little different. Thank you for your help."

I watch her go, watch her walk out of my life as fast as she came in. Then I turn down the next isle and walk away, my pricing gun heavy on my hip. The cereal boxes watch me in silence, black, empty cartoon eyes tracking my every move. I close my eyes, and feel the store embrace me.

Sjs00 posted:

Just thinking about posting my story has got me in tears

soupbone sal posted:

A guy told me he was gonna gently caress me up because we ran out of Marinara sauce. He stole a bag of chips and ran out.

yogizh posted:

Old hag walks into the electrical store where I work and asks: "Do you sell white paint ?"
I died.

bad boy in the boy band posted:

There's a thread in BFC specifically for this topic.

Sjs00 posted:

9:30 PM, stores closes at 10. I'm the only one on register; recently graduated with no friends.
-stands at register and see's three customers walking around-
1 (Girl one, dressed for a club, tits out hair done up, makeup all over. Was in my class; photos leaked of her with semen all over her back. confirmed freak. Met her in 6th grade; maybe said three words in 6 years.
2 (Girl two, some how dressed even sluttier than girl one; I've known her since 2nd grade
(Guy; confirmed bisexual, not a threat at all. Known him for 6 plus years as well)
The problem with this is that I've never been part of the 'cool crowd' on account of owning a skateboard and having been caught breaking the law in middle; among other goony factors.
(Oh poo poo ohshit ohshit)
-they're here at the register; buying red solo cups-
(Hey! They're probably gonna play that cool game everyone loves, beer pong! I should ask them!)
(Wait, no. If I ask them they're just gonna look at me strangely and say that they were just buying these cups because they don't have any at their apartment that they all share you have no chance with any of them even the gay one forget you even exist and-
-rings them up, says nothing save- Have a good day! (its 9:30 pm)
1 ....Hi?
-throws receipt at her-
?????....bye!

And then I never saw them again.

Blurry Gray Thing posted: