Yes, Karen. You. Even when your name is Carol. Or Suzette. God, I hate Suzette.
This is the woman who doesn't bring up her "e-coupon" in advance of ordering or ringing through her transaction at Barnes and Noble.
This is the woman, who could by the name "Lynn" or "Char" (short for Charmaine) who holds up the entire fucking line because hs wants her $1 off her sugar laden mocha frapachino, or bitches up a STORM because "It's too early for pumpkin spice? I want to talk to a manager."
And tell me Karen, Carol, Lynn, Char, or 'Nita, just what is the fucking manager going to do because the food truck hasn't brought the syrup or flavoring for that half-espresso half-decaf, low-foam extra milk FUCKING PUMPKIN SPICE that we can't serve because nothing has changed in the last 100 words of that whining what-wha pie hole of yours.
FINE! Never come in here again, see who the fuck cares at the multi-billion dollar company that pays their meager wage. See who the fuck cares. Trust me, when that regional manager gets that angry message from you not feeling "valued" she is going to roll her eyes and say "Really, Karen, Carol, Suzette, Lynn, Char, Nita of Debi? Again?"
Because we all know that e-coupon you can't find on your God Damned iPhone, filled with pro-Trump bullshittery from your friends doesn't exist because the company never issues those mother-fuckers BEFORE the ingredients hit the fucking store.
WHY?
WHY would they send you a God Damned coupon for an item THEY DON'T STOCK THE STORES WITH UNTIL SEPTEMBER FUCKING FIRST.
So just go the fuck home to your five-bedroom cluster-fucking house with the three-car garage and flip on fucking Dr. Phil, light up that Parliament and look at the fucking sign on the wall that even your ex-husband didn't want in the divorce and wonder why everyone cringes when they see you park that fucking Cadillac and waddle up the walkway.
(Disclosure, Cookie doesn't work in a coffee shop or retailer of any kind. I am the guy in line behind Karen, and today she held up the whole fucking line. Fuck you Karen. Fuck you.)
lard, I H8 bitchcunts like that! they think they are something specia
ReplyDeletelet me tell ya, karen, just cause you're white doesn't give you the right to talk down to others because you haven't got a fucking brain/clue/inkling about life!
Karen, go home and make your own frickin' coffee, or shut up! I'm very sorry you had to go through that, Cookie.
ReplyDeleteCould have been worse. I could have married a woman like that.
DeleteI need a coffee after that. On second thoughts, make that a large gin and tonic! No "pumpkin spice" (whatever vile concoction that might be). Ever. Jx
ReplyDeletePS Fuck you Karen. But not literally.
That's what my daughter and I call the "Can I see Your Manager Hairstyle."
ReplyDeletegood one, agnes!
DeleteOr a busy time in the grocery store when a women decides to write a check, the clerk looking at it saying to themselves, "What the fresh hell is this?", asking for all the roper identification, the women deciding to log the check in her check register AND balance her account while the line is 5 deep. Forget this crap if there are 3 in line we will open a new register. We are well past that. Calgon, take me away-NOW!
ReplyDeleteso on an unrelated note: how was your pumpkin spice latte?
ReplyDeleteThis might be a bit of a tangent but I remember being a kid and realizing "women of a certain age" were all identifiable, even from behind, by their hairstyles. You know, dowdy and not stylish. Further I remember thinking that would die out with my generation because, surely, no one my own age would go around with old lady hair even when we might one day be...well, old. Turns out I was wrong. I have noticed certain women who hang on to a hairstyle well past its prime - regardless of generation. Must be something wrong in the human psyche. They probably think a hold over hairstyle will preserve what ever hotness they might have felt when wearing said hairstyle for the first time. How to break the news...?
ReplyDelete