Vomit, Feces, Assholes...So, How Was Your Labor Day?

So, Labor Day, the store was open for super short hours (10-7) due to the Galleria closing and all was going well until about 3 p.m. when the entire fucking world decided to go shopping. I just don't understand the psychology of people who get holiday's off and say to themselves, "Jeez, the weather sure is great but how 'bout instead of doing something productive or just, ya know, enjoying life, why don't we go to the mall for 4 hours and blow endless amounts of cash that most retail workers would kill for!" It just makes no sense. Is it really that awesome to spend your extra day off rocking the bedazzled Ed Hardy t-shirt, fresh tribal ink, and Diddy approved 80's shades?
Once the clusterfuck that is humanity swarms into the store a few problems arise. First, one of my female co-workers alerts us that she will be off the floor for a bit since while she was using the bathroom, she noticed someone in the stall next to hers was squirting shit out on the side of the rim and it was slowly oozing down to the ground. Shockingly, the lady...no wait, fuck that...person with pussy, decided to try to wipe up her mooky stinks but ended up smearing shit allover the floor. Look, I've had to clean up piles up shit NEXT to the toilet but that's the mensroom. It makes sense. It's totally stupid, but still, I can understand some mongoloid douche hanging his buttcheeks over the rim and dropping bombs on the floor. Sadly, I can understand that. But, a woman, in mid-shit, with waste running over the bowl, squirting through her cheeks is just baffling. First, why wouldn't you stop, reposition your asshole and then continue with your business?
After that mess, I got to join in the fun.
A little boy and his family come racing into the store, and the little butterball pukes allover the floor and the stairs. Not the tiled floor, mind you, but the carpet. This troupe of fucktards then marches junior to the bathroom and wouldn't ya know, momma is cleaning of this kids kicks after he cleans himself up. It would be such a shame if juniors Nike's had vomit stains on them, after all.
I am charged with the task of cleaning up the mess so I grab the sawdust, broom and brace myself for agony. While sweeping up this revolting pile of human waste the family walks by. I give them the stare of death. Mommy and Daddy aren't trying their best to avoid eye contact but junior is giving me a look of total remorse. He really seemed to want to say, "Sorry, mister" but of course Daddy looked over at him and said, "Don't look at him, son." I continue the stare of death and thank them for their patronage with as much sarcasm as I can muster and they skulk away with some pissed off looks on their faces.
Now, being able to get back onto the floor, I notice that the kind, lazy, dickwads who mistake the store for a library have left half the inventory in scattered piles like little landmines of utter contempt for the employees. And the kids section? Like an A-bomb went off. So, while trying to put the store back together (seriously, even during the Christmas season, I've never seen the store so thrashed) I am constantly interrupted with customers asking for college textbooks.
Here, I'm gonna give you a little insider information about this which should make my total hatred of such questions completely understandable. You can NEVER find college textbooks at ANY retailer. Why? Well, that's simple. Professors get a stipend at the end of each semester if all of the books they have the university order for their classes get sold. It's a scam, it's evil and it sucks but it's also something hard to believe 95% of collegiates don't know. Even something as simple as, say, War and Peace, the prof will track down an out of print, random ass edition just to make sure they get their bonus.
This confuses EVERY SINGLE motherfucker I explain this to. Then, I proceed with a more polite version of this: "Look, we don't carry Democracy in America Through the 70-74, 27th Edition, because we can't guarantee that a bunch of lazy, cheap ass motherfuckers will come in and buy it. Also, we buy shit directly from publishers and a $2,000 investment then marked up to $3,500 would probably not look too good if we sent them all back because you didn't get a cheap enough price on it. After all, textbooks do cost a shitload of money and if you're not willing to pay for the book, even if used, then why the fuck are you paying for the course?"
I've gotten so sick of these questions and phone calls (oh yes, lots of them) that I don't even bother looking up the book unless the customer presses for it. When they frustratingly ask, "Can you just check" and I tell them, "We don't have it but we might be able to order it and it is $125 and will be here in 7 days" they respond, "Oh, well, I need it tonight."
WHAT THE FUCK! You know where you can get the goddamned book RIGHT THE FUCK NOW and you chose to go to ass opposite end of town with nothing but hope in your hearts. You all suck and god help us if you breed.
Finally, some humor finds its way into my day.
A little fat kid, I notice, is hanging around the self help section. This is a cunts hair away from all the sex books, including the insanely popular to broswe but never bought Ultimate Big Penis Book. I let everyone know about the butterball because he sure as shit ain't fucked up and desperate enough to seek counsel from Dr. Phil. Five minutes later, he's inching closer to the titty and cock tomes and is cautiously looking around to make sure no one sees him. I just grab a stool, sit in front of the section and stare at him. Eventually, he walks away, with a very sad expression on his face and leaves the store. 20 minutes later he's back and I just stay in the sex section fucking around. He walks away with another frowny face. 15 minutes later, he returns but this time I'm taken away by a customer. When I return, he is reaching for the Ultimate Big Penis Book when I tell him to get lost. I think it was for the best. I mean, if he had looked at that book like it was an representation of average cocks I belive he would've grown up with quite the inferiority complex.
Then, everything goes to hell again. The phone rings and the woman on the other end wants to speak to a manager. I ask for her name and what this is regarding and she pauses and rather rudely says, "I'm someone who frequents your bathrooms." Right then, I want to drop the call.
You see, there are restrooms allover the mall but every other store tells customers that we have a bathroom. Technically, it is for customers only but a few people got upset when we told them that it is for customers only. So, a lot of horrible things occasionally happen in the stalls but we get way more complaints over bullshit. Like paper being on the floor. I'm serious. I can't tell you how many times a woman has come up to me and said, "I just wanted to let you know that your bathroom is disgusting. Just revolting. I couldn't even use it I was so sickened." And it's usually just a paper towel lying next to the waste basket. In fact, I want to wear a sign around my neck that reads: If your are going to tell me about the state of our bathrooms and they are not out of toilet paper or towels, have no fluids on the floor, wall or ceiling, everything is working properly, and your problem is a piece of paper on the floor then GO FUCK YOURSELF! Dictated, not read.
After a manager takes the call it turns out that one of our lovely homeless regulars has been coming out of the stalls and eating her shit in front of people and then casually washing her hands. Awesome.
At last, it's fifteen minutes til closing and I start making the announcements over the PA. Like roaches when the lights turn on the clusterfuck of humanity scatters in a mad dash to buy all they can the registers look like lines at the DMV. We struggle, but manage to put humpty dumpty back together and it looks like we're gonna skate outta the store 10 minutes after 7.
Closing time for the mall happens and I immediately run to the entrance and block it off with carts of books. This doesn't stop people from trying to come in. Usually, we stay open a couple hours after everything in the mall shuts down so people who can't think of anything more to do with their free time than shop like zombies waltz in, grab stacks of magazines and hang out til we kick them out.
A crowd of 20 deep starts their mongo trek towards me and I tell them we're closed, no, I can't just let YOU in to find a book, yes, we close when the mall does today, no, you can't use the bathroom, sorry, we're closed, no, I can't take two seconds to look that up for you because WE...ARE...CLOSED. GO THE FUCK HOME!
It turns out, the only thing separating the staff from freedom is some fat cunt looking for books on some obscure diet. She won't leave until we find at least one more book so she can finally see her feet again. It doesn't happen and she comes to check out and remarks, "Wow, you guys are really strict about your closing time, huh?"
"Well, right now we're not allowed overtime and there are a few things we have to take care that can happen only after everyone leaves. Plus, the Galleria is also very strict about closing on holidays. Oh, and by the way, did I mention it's a holiday and everyone working would love to go hang out with their friends and family instead of being here today?"
I hand her her change, she gives me a menacing look, obviously insulted because I don't give a fuck about her fat ass and slowly walks out.
Hope your Labor Day was as pleasant as mine!