Once again I have allowed a long period of time between blog posts to elapse. I really need to stop doing that, mostly because all you beautiful people stop checking for me to write something and you go away and never come back.
I definitely don’t want that. I want more of you to come over here and read all my fabulous shit, but in order for that to happen, I need to write more fabulous shit. I’m gonna have to buckle down and get to that. I gotta show some discipline and dedication to my craft.
I gotta have Denise make me sit down and write some posts.
I gotta schedule the Xbox to shut off after a certain amount of time so I stop getting sucked into it.
In my defense, there has been a lot of shit going on but it’s still a shitty excuse.
There is, of course, Denise, who came down to see me here in Florida last weekend, then next weekend I’m going up to see her for Valentine’s Day weekend.
There’s also the never-ending, ever-growing pile of bureaucratic bullshit that continues to bury me whilst trying to get started in this permanent position with a Federal Government job, which is a blog post or 12 in and of itself but I’m afraid if I wrote about it the Secret Service would come and take me away to parts unknown, never to be heard from again. Perhaps someday I will write about the experience after I’m fired like Aussa Lorens plans on doing.
As a bonus for the week, last night I got to wear this contraption . . . while I slept. Or attempted to.
What is this not-so-intimidating looking device, some of you may be asking? Well, it is some sort of medical torture device that monitors your sleep while it simultaneously attempts to keep you from getting any sleep.
For both things.
Looks cozy, doesn’t it? No, I do not have something attached to my head, it’s just that fuckin’ shiny. And yes, I was THAT fuckin’ happy about it.
I won’t know the “official results” for a couple of weeks, but the initial assessment upon turning in the device this morning was “Snoring Machine”.
To clear that up, I’m the “Snoring Machine”, not the device.
I could have skipped the device and let Denise call that diagnosis in.
Anyway, enough with my excuses. Let’s get on to the matter at hand . . . .
I went in to WalMart yesterday, as I often do, to join my fellow poor-white-trash brethren and sisteren in some shopping for necessities. I collected my armload of items (not getting a cart or a basket is the only way I get out of there for less than $100) and went to the “Self Checkout”. After scanning my items and reaching the total, I established that I was finished and wanted to pay. It asked me what form of payment I wanted to use and as usual, I chose Debit.
Because I don’t carry cash.
And nobody in their right mind will offer me a line of credit.
And I think people that still write checks should be shot.
I swiped my card, the machine thought for a minute, then it said “Approved” and spit me out a receipt.
Wait a minute. There is a step missing. What happened to being asked for my pin number? I never entered a pin number.
This made me very uncomfortable. I’m all for ease of checking out of the store, but come on. I’m at a cash register, checking myself out . . . UNSUPERVISED, using a bank card that may or may not belong to me and all I did was swipe it and get approved. I could have yanked it out of some ladies purse at the back of the store and she doesn’t even know it’s gone yet and I am APPROVED!
No pin number required.
No signature required.
It seems that all that was required was that 1) I have a card of some form and 2) I be tall enough to swipe the fucker.
This made me very uneasy and I asked the “attendant” on duty what the deal was with not being asked for a pin number.
She stuttered, she stammered, she had no answer. But then someone that looked like she’d not yet graduated from high school wandered up, seemed very full of the high position she had managed to acquire at WalMart and was clearly at least a position above the stammering attendant.
My heart broke because I knew I was quickly being plunged into the Land of the Irreversibly Stupid.
SIWG (Self-Important WalMart Girl): “How can I help you, Sir?”
Me: “I’d like to know why I did not get asked for my pin number when I used my Debit card just now.”
Random Guy Behind Me: “Same thing just happened to me. That’s just weird.”
SIWG: “Are you sure you didn’t accidentally hit Credit?”
Me: “I wasn’t asked for a signature either. You going to tell me that is no longer required, or that me and Random Guy back here are both idiots and we both coincidentally accidentally hit Credit?”
Random guy now steps into the conversation to see where this is going.
Then SIWG said the thing. She said the thing that makes my head spin and I puke pea soup and the voices of demons spew forth from my face. She said it and all those things happened.
SIWG: “Well, Credit and Debit are the same thing and get run the same way anyway.”
And so the scene began . . . .
(Even Random Guy backed away, and I was on HIS side.)
I then proceeded to school the misinformed young woman that Credit and Debit are VERY MUCH two different things.
I explained that a Debit card is a direct line to my checking account, with access to money that I already have available. The money is already mine and by putting in my pin number, I am allowing you to take the predetermined amount out of my checking account. My money, that I earned . . . that I own, is being transferred directly to you, and by not having to put in a pin number it seems to me that you think you have free reign to reach in and take whatever you’d like and I DO NOT like my one security feature being overridden.
I then explained that a Credit card is exactly what it says it is. It is CREDIT. It would be me borrowing money from Visa, MasterCard, American Express or whoever, so that I can give it to you, thereby escaping the store with my goods with the promise that I will pay someone else back for the favor at a later time. I am giving you money that either 1) I have not yet earned or 2) that I have no intention of paying back the Credit Card company for. I have essentially given you . . . NOTHING!
Essentially, given the amount of my purchase, I have given you about 5 labor hours with my Debit Card. Had I used a Credit Card, you would have essentially got a Pinky Swear.
Given that, when I use my card, in whichever way I choose to use it, I expect one of two things to happen.
- I expect to be asked for a pin number when I hit the “Debit” button.
- I expect to be asked for a signature when I hit the “Credit” button.
Since NEITHER of those things happened, then it begs me to ask “What in the actual fuck?!”
- I pointed out that I was asked for a pin number on the very same card just last week.
- I asked if “Credit” and “Debit” are the same thing, then why are there two different buttons for it when asked how you would like to pay.
- I asked if she was trained to give that answer by her superiors or if she pulled it out of her ass to attempt to get me out of her face. (Attempt overwhelmingly failed.)
- I explained that in the event something was wrong with the system and WalMart as a corporation gets their ass sued off a la the Great Target Credit Card Breach of 2014, and it could have been caught early when it was pointed out to SIWG, but instead she whipped something from her ass, that I was going to be MORE than happy to speak up and point out what SIWG had said to me when I asked about it.
- I pointed out that it should be very clear by this point that I don’t have a problem speaking up and pointing shit out.
Now I know some of you are thinking, “But Eric, SIWG didn’t deserve all that. It’s not HER fault. She is merely a pawn on the chess board that is the WalMart Corporation, and we already saw what you did to the poor FedEx lady on the phone that time.”
To that I say, she deserved every fucking bit of it. Instead of looking into the issue and finding a reasonable answer, SHE chose to bullshit me. SHE decided to take the lazy way out and make some shit up or pass on false information in the hopes that I would concede and go away. SHE dismissed my concern with MY money as though I were just some nuisance bitching about nothing and not the security of every goddamn dime I have.
So yeah, she fucking deserved it. The sad part is, she will probably not think twice before she does it again because she is young and lazy and there is WAY TOO MUCH of that shit going on right now. Because there are WAY TOO MANY young people out there right now that think they deserve a paycheck for showing up at a place of employment once in a while.
Customer service is a thing of the past and too many of us put up with it and it’s time we stopped and we all started to speak up. We work our asses off, most of us entirely too much and I don’t understand why we give up the money to companies that couldn’t give two shits about how hard we work for it, just how quickly we will give it to them no matter how we are treated.
Let’s get back to respect, courtesy and maybe a little how about not lying to my fucking face and getting off your ass and earning your paycheck.
Friends, tip the living hell out of your wait-people when they take good care of you . . . and when you are treated like shit, ignored or generally dismissed by a customer service representative, call them out! The country is already being run by idiots, let’s not hand it over to lazy, self-entitled idiots.
This turned into a bigger rant than I had intended, but it’s SIWG’s fault.
She said the thing.
Can you imagine if he had shipped it FedEx? The guy would be all tied up waiting to find out if he was being charged because his weed is “containerized” until the scheduled/estimated/fictional delivery date.