I'm a Terrible Person

This one lady, who has often made me make her seafood salad sandwiches, and is as quick to scream at me as she is to praise me, well… she asked me something yesterday.

She came up to the counter with two wedges I had just finished making.

“What’s the difference between the tuna salad and the seafood salad?”

I had to have her repeat the question. Sure I heard her right, I was flabbergasted.

“Well…. one is seafood and the other is just tuna.”

I had thought that was self explainatory.

“But what’s the difference?” she asked again.

“Uh… well one is just tuna salad, and the other is shrimp and imitation crab, and basically a whole seafood salad…”

The worst part was that she ALWAYS Asks me to make her seafood sandwiches, but she had to go and say she thinks she usually gets tuna, but she was going to buy one of each anyway, because “you make such good sandwiches. Everything you do is wonderful.”

Yea. Okay.

I hate when cross eyed people come to the deli. I never know where to look.

So a customer orders something from the deli and we are supposed to offer a sample. Now that it’s Lent, on certain days these people don’t eat meat, so they get offended if I offer them a sample.

I don’t give a shit. I’m just doing my job.

So on Ash Wednesday, this guy orders swiss and american cheese. Tells me it’s lent and he gave up meat. Great. I didn’t ask, I don’t care.

A mother and her two kids come to the counter and order ham and turkey. Her little kids start yelling “I want a slice I want a slice I want turkey I want some” and she gets mad at them and tells them not today.
Explains its ash Wednesday.

Great. I didn’t ask, I don’t care.

It annoys the fuck out of me when people need to announce to the world what they are “sacrificing” for whatever reason. Stop being so self righteous. If it meant anything to you, you’d keep it personal and not advertise it so everyone can admire your religiousness. Fuck off.

Batty return every week as usual. I guess I never want to write about them because they annoy me so much.
But i’ve been meaning to share this for a while.

If you recall, they like their deli meat OBSCENELY thin. Also the husband has a really short attention span and walks away sometimes. The wife will yell out, “Brian, brian, come here. taste this. taste this brian. make sure it’s how you like it.”

So i ALWAYS have to give them a taste. I always cut it OBNOXIOUSLY THIN. It’s really a pain in the ass, especially because our machines dont work properly and when you set it to that thin thin set it turns off. It’s ridiculous.

I sliced proscutto for them one day, and as i gave him a super thin slice to sample, he said:

“MMM it’s great, it’s like skin.”

Skin? really? Skin? You couldn’t compare it to anything else? I’ve never been able to slice thinly since, without having an image of human flesh being peeled from the sinews beneath. ugh.

Remember that blog I wrote about the crazy lady who wanted the rarest roast beef and the cup of water etc?

She came back this week. Maybe it was Friday or something she was there.

I saw her and my spirits fell. My body literally sunk. She had called in the morning ironically enough, to ask my manager if the roast beef was rare, and if we could make sure we had some when she came in. Yea, OKAY.

She started with the “do you have a roast beef you make here?” thing again, and i quickly jumped in with the store-brand-on-sale-i-have-to-open- one shit. She got upset that i’d have to open a new roast beef, concerned it would not be rare enough for her. I assured her it would be.

So I opened a new roast beef, and we usually cut the 20 pound thing in half, and so each side is the same, equally rare, right from the middle.

I showed her the half i had picked up and put it on the slicer.

“let me see the other one,” she said. “is it rarer?”

‘THEY’RE BOTH EXACTLY THE SAME,” I *CALMLY* replied.

“well let me see them” she said.

So i show her both pieces together and she asks me, “Which one is rarer? I can’t tell.”

‘THEY’RE BOTH EXACTLY THE SAME,” I calmly reply.

“Okay,” she says, and agrees to let me start slicing.

“now, you’re gonna think i’m crazy…” she starts. But being that i remember her I interrupted her and said “you want a cup of water and a paper towel.”

and then i went to get her one. Then I sliced a TEEEEENY TINNNNY piece off for her, just like i knew she was going to ask for, and she tasted it and spit it out and asked for a pound of it.

While i’m slicing her fucking roast beef, she asks if we have saran wrap. Yes, i say, it’s what you made me wrap your meat in last time.

“What kind is it, is it the real kind?”

“IT’S THE SAME ONE I WRAPPED YOUR ROAST BEEF IN LAST WEEK”  i calmly reply.

Then the bitch asks if i have FOIL. Okay so now the plastic wrap she made me use last week isn’t good enough for her? well i fucking told her last week it was gonna make a mess and would be better if i put it in a boat first. No, she had said. just do it, do it as i say, she said.

well fuck you. no i don’t have foil for you.

then she starts to ask me to wrap it the plastic wrap and i said “YEA I KNOW I REMEMBER”

so she made a point of reading my name tag (not my real name of course) and saying “thank you for remembering). she probably went to complain about me to someone.

Anyway, here’s what her weird requests lead me to believe:

1. Based on her insistence that the roast beef be incredibly rare, and her distress at the thought that the other half could possibly be more rare, I’m thinking she’s a cannibal. I’m thinking she likes the taste of fresh meat. And her fear of being discovered and taken into custody has left her with no other choice than to just eat uncooked meat. She probably sits at home and touches herself while chewing it. “mmm roastttt beeef.”

2. Maybe she has an eating disorder. She definitely doesnt chew and swallow. Instead she nibbles, spits, and drinks some water.

3. Maybe she has a pet tiger at home or something, and she likes to make it sandwiches instead of just tossing it a piece of butchered meat. She likes to taste our premium deli meat first, to make sure it’s up to her tiger’s standards. Then when she goes home she puts it on some whole wheat bread with mayo and lettuce and cuts it into fours for her little striped kitty.

4. Based on her insistence that the meat be wrapped in plastic wrap then in a bag, she probably wants it tightly sealed so it doesnt stain her clothes when she STEALS it. I wouldn’t doubt it.

I hope she gets a tape worm and it finds its way to her brain and kills her.

Yesterday was incredibly busy, and we tried our best like always. Well, at about 930am, my manager was out back getting our shipment, and i was on the counter helping customers. This older man with a thick accent came up and asked if we had sopprasatta. Yea i can’t spell it. and im too lazy to spell check.

I told him yes, and he wanted a half a pound. Now, the italian meats like copocolla and sopprasatta are like between 12 and 15 dollars a pound. I don’t make the prices, and i dont give a shit either.

So i tell him the price and he said it doesnt matter he still wants half a pound. i pick up a sopprassata that was opened the day before, because we didnt have any before yesterday, and he tells me he doesnt want that. He says can’t he have the one in the window. Im like it’s the same thing.

he keeps arguing, saying he knows what sopprasatta is, and that’s salami i have. Uh, what? first, i dont have a fucking salami that looks ANYTHING like what’s in my mother fucking hand. second, these italian meats always keep coming in slanted. so i get if you think theres something wrong with it because it’s slanted and has casing on it or whatever but hey, i dont make the fucking meat.

besides, the one in the window was slanted too.

they looked exactly the same. one had a wrapper on it and the other didnt. i offered him a slice so he could taste, and see it was fresh and definitely soprassata. my coworker tried to help me out with this guy too.

but he just had an attitude in his gay little accent and kept saying he knew what soprassata was, and i was trying to give him salami, and why can’t he have the one in the window?

well ill tell you why.

it costs 15.00 a pound. Having one that’s already opened, and fresh, and then you making me open another one… means i have two open. How much do we sell of 15.00 a pound meat? Not nearly as much as we sell of everything else. One of them is going to end up staying open and not getting used and then we’ll have to throw it out. so i’m not going to open another one because that will be like 100 bucks thrown out.

Anyway, my manager came over and tried explaining to him that we had just gotten in the sopprasatta, so it was definitely fresh, and that we can’t open another one because that shit is like 15 bucks a pound. He still kept arguing, saying i was giving him salami. we held the two together and showed him, THEY LOOK EXACTLY THE SAME.

but he would not be deterred with his sneering and bullshitting. So she just said she didnt have time for this and let me open another one. I wish he didnt win, he probably ended up stealing it anyway.

So now he’s getting exactly what he fucking wants, and you think he’d be happy right? Well the shit meat comes in a casing and has rope tied on it and so i cut off only a certain part so that way it would stay fresh longer, considering there was now two open. It was no where near where i was slicing. I wish his fucking face was what i was slicing.

Now he yells over the counter “sweetie youa getting the string in there”

NO IM NOT. i know what i’m fucking doing. So then i had to cut more off so he would stop bitching at me. Then I hand him the package, he looks at it, and decides he’s going to stand there and complain to me about the price.

Actually, i really couldn’t understand his accent, and it sounded like he said 799 a pound for turkey was a ripooff. that’s what i got out of it anyway, since he had also bough tthe turkey that wasn’t on sale. my coworker thinks he was complaining about the price for the soprassatta. But either way, he then goes “i can get it at apple farm for cheaper.”

I just looked at him and said “okay.” then helped the next customer. The other people on line were laughing at the guy, saying they can’t believe the nerve of him etc.

Well, if he can get something cheaper at apple fucking farm, and i dont know what that is or where, please, by all means, GO THERE. cause no one wants to see your fucking frowny ass face here. Youre annoying and a cocksucker so please do us a favor and shop elsewhere.

that’s all.

I remember this lady, but i forgot what she looked like. Therefore, i was my usual NICE self, until i lost more and more and more and more patience. I literally wanted to throw up on this woman.

crazy fuck: i want some roast beef. you don’t have store made roast beef do you?
me: no. i have the one on sale, that’s the store brand and —-
crazy fuck: what’s the rarest one you have? i want to see it.
me: probably the D&W London Broil one. *shows her the roast beef*
Crazy fuck: *scrutinizes it* let me see the other one.

i show her.

crazy fuck: let me see the first one again.

i show her.

crazy fuck: why do they call it london broil? what’s that mean?
me: i read package, theres nothing on it about that so i say,  I DONT KNOW.

crazy fuck: im gonna wanna taste a piece but i can’t swallow it so can you get me some water? can you do that for me? thank you so much, just a small glass of water.
me: yea… *so i take a salad cup, fill it with water from the nasty sink pipes, cause we dont have drinking water, we have tap water, and give it to her*
crazy fuck: i need a napkin. can you get me a napkin?

i hand her a paper towel.

crazy fuck: okay can i taste the first one? but dont give me a whole piece just a little bit.
now, considering i have to put it on a slicer, and in order to get you a piece i have to SLICE it, how do you expect me to get you a teeeny tiny piece? i had to fucking slice a whole piece off, otherwise it’s gonna mess up the meat. i cant slice a bite out of a roast beef. so i start to slice a piece and she starts yelling that’s too big just a bite. i rip a teeny tiny piece off then make a show of throwing the rest of the slice in the garbage and staring at her. She takes a piece in her mouth, chews then drinks water then i see her spit it in the paper towel. (which later ended up on the floor and of course i had to clean it.)

crazy lady: it’s not bad it’s just i can’t swallow it. theres nothing wrong with it. now let me taste the other one? Can you do that for me? oh thank you so much. you’re so nice.

same deal.

crazy lady: can i see the other piece? let me see them together. Now which one is that? Okay, i’ll take this one. *holds up other half of bite of a roast beef piece.*
me: which is that? the first one? the second?
crazy lady: oh it’s the second one.

so then i slice it for her, but she interrups me and asks if i have plastic wrap. we have a wrapping station with plastic wrap, but it’s for wrapping things in the styrofoam boats. it’s not for wrapping leftovers, like you can do if you just had a small roll at home.

i explained to her if i wrapped it in the plastic, it’d be easier if i just put it in a boat first. otherwise, it’ll be hard to wrap, it’ll just be floppy and squashed.

crazy lady: no i want you to wrap it in the plastic. trust me, it’ll work. just do it. can you do that for me please?

so i do it, and it’s a mess and looks really shitty but she wanted it like that.
next she wanted some potato salad or something and made me wrap that in plastic too. luckily that’s already in a container. I was wondering if she was gonna put the shit in her clothes and steal it or something, and maybe that’s why she’s so obsessed with wrapping it up.

Anyway, twenty minutes and two items later she was gone. I’ll probably have nightmares for weeks.