Last Call for This Customer

Worked night shift last night. Usually it's uneventful but last night there was drama.

Had a drunk driver come in.

As soon as I saw him pull in and park sideways in the parking lot, I knew. So I told myself that if he tried to buy beer I wouldn't sell it to him. I refuse drunks all the time for beer, so it's no big deal.

So I watch as he stumbles in and almost knocks over one of our displays. He comes up to me and buys cigarettes. I take a whiff and he reeks of alcohol. So I turn to my co-worker and ask him if we should call the cops. He ends up getting on the phone with the cops while I finish ringing this guy up.

So the guy leaves, gets back in his truck and peels out of the parking lot. A few seconds later I thought I heard something being hit, but when I went out there I couldn't see anything.

Long story short, they caught the guy, but not until after he hit his neighbor's car and totaled it. Oh, and his tire also fell off during some point and he was driving without a front tire.

I guess people called in saying they saw a truck on fire...must have been the sparks flying from him not having a tire.

Looks like the guy refused a sobriety test, so we have to hand the camera footage over to the police so they can put him in jail where he belongs.

What an idiot. I hate drunk drivers. One less drunk loser off the road.

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.