Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you, the joys of retail.

For thos of you who don't know, in between being an artist, philantropist, and international sex symbol, I work part time as a cashier at k-mart, an American retail chain. Yesterday was one of those days on the job that one wouldn,'t forget for quite a while.

Apparently, this woman with a cane, whom I later found out was eighty years old, came in to buy a spiral notebook. You know the thing. Seventy page count, wire bound, you can take notes in them. Well, she wanted to buy one but "forgot" to get her money. Well, this was none of my business at the time, but it later became pretty important to me.

She didn't come back with her money for quite, so, as it our policy, it was put in a cart to be taken back out on the floor and put up and I was given this task.

I take the cart with the notebook in it and put all the stuff up and then, about 20 minutes later, this lady comes back in the store with her money and she was pissed that her notebook, which she had left there for about an hour, had been returned to the floor and, of course, another one of the up front employees, which I don't really like, pointed me out as the one who put it up. This is where the shit hit the fan.

"Hey Big Boy!" This old lady calls out. I think to myself 'nope, she's not talking to me, she's talking to some else' but I was wrong. I begin to get pissed off.

"Hey, do you have MY NOTEBOOK in that cart?!?"

"No ma'am, I do not" I say, as she begins to walk toward me, mumbling something about how "this store does people."

"Well, I want you to go get me another one"

I hit the fucking ceiling, but keep my cool here. I'll be god-damned if I'm going to get this bitch a notebook after she was so rude to me.

"Well, I GUESS I COULD" I say, rather snidely, but I wasn't going anywhere.

I figured she knew I wasn't going to get it, so she when and got it herself. I was mad as hell.

I finished what I was doing and went up to the service desk to go get the next load of returns, and I begin to tell my story to the girl at the service desk, who happens to be a friend of mine. In the meantime, the old lady gets her notebook and checks out. She then spots me at the service desk. This begins part two of the story.

I turn to my friend and say "Ah, hell, here she comes." and oh yes, she was coming to see me. Was she coming to apoligize? you may ask. HAAHAHAHAHAHAHA, no, she thought it was time for her to give me a lecture on morality

"I just hope that when you turn 80 years old..." I stop her cold in her tracks, mid-sentence. I had all I could stand from this woman and I couldn't stand anymore. Enter internet M_C.

"Ma'am, my name is not 'big boy'. That is not something I respond to. My name is right here on this name tag they make me wear. If you cannot see my name tag, 'sir' or 'young man' are prefectly acceptable. If you wouldn't be so rude to people, maybe they would be inclined to help you."

She knew she had just been told. She lowered her head and said "ok, sir. ok...ok" and walked out the store.

The moral of the story, I am not a giant statue that stands out in front of hamburger resturaunts, nor am a part of a hip-hop duo with Andre 3000. If I don't know you and you want me to do something for you, don't insult me. This is true for anyone, or anything else for that matter.

That's my story from the other day. My next post should be about the special olympics, so look for something a tad more heart-warming. Maestro out!