Friday, February 5, 2010

Blame it on the Alcohol

Now, I don't always hate my job as much as it seems like I do. There are some good things, but I'm not going to list those here. For now, I'm going to talk about the drunks.

We all know that there are many alcoholics out there. And they are the nicest people generally...unless they can't get their beer.

There are a few types of drunks out there.

First, there are the ones that stumble in, go grab their beer, pay in pennies and quietly leave the store, walking home. These guys are fine, until I see how bad they are stumbling. That's when I refuse to sell them their beer. Why do I do this? Well, because if they happen to stumble out in the middle of the road carrying their can of Molson Ice or Steel Reserve and get hit by a car, it's most likely going to be the cashier that gets blamed for selling it to them.

Yes, that's right, the years he's been an alcoholic and had people enabling him all his life which caused him to drink even more won't matter, because I was the last one to sell him his beer before he became splattered all over the hood of a car.

So this is why I refuse beer to our town drunks, not because I care about them, but I'm just trying to save my own ass.

But usually the drunks don't look at it this way. When they stumble up to the register carrying their drink of choice and licking their lips in anticipation of the cold one they are about to swallow, I start shaking my head and telling them that they can't have any today.

“Why not?” they ask questioningly.

As I explain to them that they can't even walk straight, I see the anger forming in their sad eyes. They usually try to argue, but to no avail. I'm a stone cold mean cashier. If I don't want to sell you something, you sure as hell aren't going to get it. Not unless you have a million dollars. That you are willing to give me. Tax free.

And most likely these alcoholics aren't loaded with any cash if they are paying me in nickels and dimes. And yes, I do feel bad for them sometimes because alcoholism is a disease and is hard to conquer, but don't argue with me about trying to help you. I don't know you, I don't care that much about you, so go somewhere else and buy it from them.

And they usually don't buy it from anyone else. Most of the time I watch them walk away and they end up going right back home, even though there are other stores across the street that would sell them what they want. I don't get it, but oh well. Drunks will be drunks.

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