That sums it up, right there.
My mom and I ride together, sometimes, for our hour and fifteen minute commute to work. Along the way there and home, we're both pretty prone to stopping in at Wal-Mart since we pass three of the suckers on the way to work.
Tonight, we stopped at the one closest to our respective houses to pick up a few things. Me, some juice and such and her, some delicious potato wedges from Wal-Mart's deli. It was around seven or so and while my mom was over by the refrigerator cases getting milk, I decided to go ahead and get her potato wedges for her. The following conversation transpired:
Me-Your tired healthcare worker kicking it in green scrubs.
Mom-Another tired healthcare worker, only in blue scrubs.
DB1-Deli Bitch Numero Uno
DB2-Deli Bitch Numero Dos
OLDW-Nice, old lady deli worker
IBC-Innocent Bystander Customer in line ahead of me
DBM-Deli Bitch Manager
SMs-Two store managers
IBC-*standing in line getting some popcorn chicken*
Me-*talking to DB1 who's standing around, pretty much not busy.* Excuse me, do you have any potato wedges left?(I have to interject at this point to say that I did notice that they had pulled a few pans of stuff from the case, but I couldn't tell what exactly those items were.)
DB2-*Loudly enough that my mom and the workers in the McD's next to the deli heard her* ...and we're damn not cooking any, either.
OLDW, Mom, Me, IBC- *Give each other "WTF?" looks*
DB2- She said we weren't cooking anymore. We close at 8. *Jerks a thumb at DBM who totally walks away from the storm now brewing.*
Me- Well, I was just asking seeing as how it's..*looks at watch*...not even seven-thirty. You didn't have to be rude.
DB2- *Loud again, this time with a smirk on her face that I wanted to slap off.* Ma'am, I wasn't being rude. If I were being rude, I would have told you to go buy the damn potato wedges and cook them, yourself.
Me-*Shoots flames from her ears and turns and walks off*
At this point, I'm so fucking pissed that I'm ready to jump the counter and hold her head in the deep fryer until she's extra crispy. However, since I work in a burn unit, that would be bad PR. So, I walked off and found two managers and pulled them aside and explained in much nicer terms than I wanted, what happened. They both assured me that they would talk to the girl. I don't know whatever became of it, but I know that I will never, EVER purchase anything from that deli, again. Not that it matters, but still...