Coming into today, I thought our flu shot clinic was going to be my early demise. Thankfully, I received a pleasant surprise. Nobody really bothered me; except the twat nurse running it. "We need chairs, we need another table, do you have a pen?" "Are you fucking serious," said my inner monologue. Who doesn't bring a pen? I'm glad she didn't ask me for extra flu vaccine. I wanted to strangle her with the latex tubing used to find veins on the customers.
Highlights:
The clinic started at 2 p.m. Old people must think we're in Maine or something because 2 p.m. became 1 p.m. "Are you giving the flu shots here young man?" I'm glad she didn't call me "sonny" or something more retarded. "No, the clinic is at 2 p.m., you're a tad bit early," I replied. "Okay, we'll wait in your chairs," mumbled the old shut-in. So this slack-jawed couple spent the next hour drooling and staring at my intern, making him very uncomfortable. "They're just staring at me like I'm gonna give them the shot," my intern squeamishly stated. I told him to just stare back. My manager, in infinite wisdom, set up the clinic right by my pick-up counter. The word cluster fuck comes close to the anarchy that ensued. There were fifty people (or so) crammed by my pick-up, some for flu shots, some for pick-up. We're still trying to sort out the bodies.
After the flu shot mania, I turned my attention to filling the plethora of scripts that avalanche me on a daily basis. While uncovering from the rubble, another twat made an appearance. Not just any twat, mind you, but a cocky medicaid twat in my drive-thru. Apparently, she called in her daughter's seizure medication this morning. As luck would have it she was "completely out" and we didn't have it in stock. I couldn't even find the request. Being the staunch citizen and professional that I am, I found it at another store located a mere 5-10 minutes away. Upon telling her that her daughter's medication would be obtainable tonight, I figured she would offer to come in the store and either kiss my feet or felate me. I was sadly mistaken. "What do you mean?," said the indigent twatilly. "I don't wanna go over there," squawked the bitch. I then explained to her that arguing with me would reduce the chances of her going to the store before closing. She then asks me when I would obtain the drug. I was dumbstruck. When I told her tomorrow afternoon, she informs me she'll just pick it up then. Oh fuck no, dude. I just wasted valuable time finding something you were too lazy to call in ahead of time so your demon spawn won't seize? Not on my watch (and dime not to mention). So I told her she best be steppin', and amazingly, she twatted over to the store that was "soooo faaar away." I won, yet I still had a twatty taste in my mouth. I hate that.
If you are offended by the word twat, don't be. It's just like calling a male a dick, but ladies don't have them, so we men had to come up with something.
Onward and upward.
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