I Need to Vent or Somebody Dies
At 4:45, I start preparing to close my store. In walks an Indian man with a vacuum I had sold him 2 months ago that he said "wasn't working right" (not stereotyping, it works into the story). I figure it's a simple clog, and I'll fix it in 2 minutes and send him on his way. Well, when I open the vacuum I find a sludge that looks like a combination of peanut butter and oatmeal covering everything, accompanied by an overwhelming stench of sesame. I ask him what he vacuumed up, and he says he spilled some sesame seeds at his restaurant and vacuumed it up. Apparently sesame seeds are filled with oil, so he had the equivalent of sesame butter in his motor, fan, filter... so I clean it up for him, with my eyes watering, and nearly dry-heaving from the smell. All the while the guy's complaining that the vacuum's no good, blah blah blah. I finally get it cleaned up, patiently explaining that the vacuum is not designed to pick up food. By the time he leaves it's 5:30, and I race to close up, as I have to make the grocery store before they close because my wife forgot to get a baking pan for our turkey.
On the way out, I hit every red light, old person, asshole cutting me off, etc. that you could imagine. I get to the store at 5:55, run to the door, just as one of the workers is locking the door. I plead with him, saying I just need one thing, but I get the stoner-monotone "I'm sorry sir, we're closed, try Target across the street". So off I race to Target, and guess what... SAME THING!
So, no baking pan for us.
Merry f***ing Xmas to you. Now bite me.