Archive for September, 2013

I Hate Me, part 301,725

Why I’m washing my money

I went to Foodtown a couple of nights ago, paid with my bankcard and got $15 cash back. I didn’t realize it but the $5 and the $10 had what I think (hope) was a bit of gum on them. Really tiny but enough to have them stuck together. I didn’t find this out until I was on line at Starbucks on Saturday. ICK! they’re stuck together. I didn’t want to pay for the coffee with sticky money because I didn’t want to be known as the guy who paid with sticky money.
“you know that guy from Jacks, well he paid this morning with a five that was sticky.”
“Ewww…throw it out.”
“I did”
Then I was going to switch it out from the register at work but if the money is sticky, it might stick to other money in the drawer and we’d give out too much change and the drawer would be short and I’d be fired and then I’d have to live under a bridge somewhere like a troll. So that was out. So I figured, wash the money. I sprayed it with Windex my go to clean anything savior (from counter tops to small cuts and everything in between). It didn’t take off the gum, just spread it around a bit so it was actually more sticky. Fuck! so I went with hand sanitizer, because why not. I spread the bills out on the back counter drenched them in hand sanitizer and wiped them down with a paper towel, as I was doing this, Jack (the owner) walked by
Jack-What are you doing?
Me-Washing money (like it was the most obvious thing in the world)
Jack-(looked at me, at the money and back at me )……oh…
He started to say something thought better of it and walked away. The hand sanitizer didn’t work, so I just figured out the parts of the bills that were sticky and put clear tape over them. Another signpost on my descent into senility.


I Hate Me, part 390,174

I have probably griped about uncomfortableness of the “double goodbye” before but here goes again. There’s a guy who used to drop off a free weekly newspaper, we’d have a brief conversation that mainly consists of a head nod and “hey”, I guess calling it a conversation is charitable. He came by a while ago with his pile of newspapers. I was at the back counter pricing a giant stack of records.
Guy- it’s my last week….(unblinking stare)
Me-oh..uh…wow…greener pastures?
Guy-no, I’m quittin’…
He proceeded to give me a laundry list of the reasons, he was being fucked over by the paper and he’d had enough. I felt bad for him but I hardly knew him and didn’t really know what to say outside of trite supportive slogans. I think I ended it with,
Me- yeah man… Stay strong…good luck…yeah…I’m sure I’ll see you around.
Guy-yeah, ok…see ya
I thought that was it, he went up front to drop off the papers. He usually goes out the front door to drop off the next batch if papers across the street, I went back to pricing records. Next thing I know he’s walking towards the back counter.
Guy-alright…they’re gonna send another guy next week…probably…
Me-(this conversation was over, the goodbyes were already said, aughhhh.)…alllllright then…um…err…still good luck…and uh…good luck…and….uh take care…
The phone rang and I answered it before the girl who was working the front could and he left. I’ve been on both sides of the “double goodbye” and there are no winners.

a picture of a rock that looks like a loaf of bread or a picture of a loaf of bread that's very very stale. You decide

a picture of a rock that looks like a loaf of bread or a picture of a loaf of bread that’s very very stale. You decide.