The Woman of my Nightmares
A while back, this woman would come to the deli counter almost daily and ask us to drain the juice from a rotisserie chicken and wrap it up for her.
Sometimes she would come and just leave the chicken on the counter until we had a chance to wrap it.
It was annoying after a while, but id give anything to have back the days when she DID NOT ever buy cold cuts.
It’s my own fault. It was back in the days of my naivity, when I just tried to do a good job and be nice to customers.
Well, since I was always soooo nice to her and wrapped her motherfucking chickens, one day she asked if I could let her try the coleslaw. She liked it, and made me give her like .70 cents worth.
Then soon after, she started asking me about the cheese in our preslice case. She tried some, liked a certain kind. Then she started asking me when I busy doing something to help her. It didn’t matter that someone else was on the counter, she wanted me to stop what I was doing to help her, because I knew what kind of cheese she liked.
I was nice and did it, though grudgingly. I should have known better.
Soon she progressed to buying more things.
She would come and ask for 1.00 or 1.50 of low salt ham, turkey, and swiss. All sliced super fucking thin. So thin it takes me like 10 minutes just to slice her fucking swiss, because cheese does not really slice that thin.
Aside from the fact that she was already UNBEARABLE, she then started bothering me outside, on MY MOTHERFUCKING BREAKS.
When she arrives, it always at different times. So sometimes, I happen to be on lunch or break and outside smoking. She parks where the smoking section is, so she sees me.
“Oh are you done for the day?” She asks.
“I’m on lunch.” I say, only because I know she’ll see me when I go back in.
“When are you going back?”
“In about fifteen minutes,” I lie, because I really have 27 minutes left.
“Okay ill hurry my shopping so you can help me when you get back.”
She will ALWAYS bother me on my break and ask if I can help her when I get in.
Multiple times she’s come after I’ve clocked out and am just doing paperwork I didn’t have time to do. My deli coat and hat are not on. My purse is next to me. I’m in the back, away from the counter. If she notices me, she tells whoever is there to get me, she wants to talk to me. I always tell her “sorry, can’t help you I’m already clocked out.”
Once, I was literally leaving the deli with my purse over my shoulder and my coat on.
“Oh, are you done for the day?”
“Yup. Bye.”
“You can’t just go back and help me…?”
What??? Are you fucking nuts? Yea okay, on my own time, I will go back, put my hat and coat on, wash my hands, and get you your fucking dollar’s worth of shaved meats. Get the fuck out.
Saturday I was packing things out on the floor. Pricing them, making it look nice. There were TWO people behind the counter, and now customers. She came to me to ask if id be going behind the counter, because she needed cold cuts. “No, I’m too busy.” And walked away.
Today she told me she always has a bad time at the deli unless I help her. Then she kept asking what number I cut everything on. I told her, look, I know you like it thin, it’s thin. Every machine is different, it depends on the meat and how sharp the blade is, it isn’t going to be the same everytime you come. And I was rude again. She still didn’t care. I can’t get rid of her. I fucking hate her worse than I hate Batty.
One of my bosses talked to her one day and found out she is a real estate agent, and does not have any appliances in her kitchen. That’s why she comes every day and buys a little. Um okay, so if you obviously have the money, why not just buy a fucking fridge? You’re still wasting money on gas, dumbass. You can’t be trying to be frugal.
I hope she fucking chokes on the cold cuts one day.
Today before she came, another customer warned me. She described this lady and called her “a rich jew bitch” and said she asked her to move her cart because it was in her way. My nightmare lady gave her a dirty look and said no. So my new favorite customer said she told the lady to “move your mother fucking cart, you bitch.”
I love her. If my paycheck didn’t depend on not being a bitch, id say something of the sort to her, too.