What In The Hell Is All This About?

I just finished up what may be the craziest week at work, ever. I have come to the conclusion that East Texans are crazy. Here's the blow by blow

Monday-I receive a package for a man that had a gun transferred to our store (for those of you that are wondering about the fascinating world of ATF regulations, when a person buys a gun from the internet, they have to have it transferred to a licensed dealer, that's me, so we can run a criminal background check). This particular gun was an AR-15, or assault rifle, the kind that was banned temporarily during the Clinton administration. When I open the package, HOLY SHIT, there's a grenade launcher attached. In my wildest Rambo fantasies, I never imagined I'd hold a grenade launcher. Did you know that it is completely legal for a citizen to own a grenade launcher? Well it is, unless they attempt to purchase grenades or other ammo for it, at which point it becomes a felony. Doesn't that make perfect sense? Your tax dollars at work.

Tuesday- My East Texas arch-nemesis (i.e. the one that's NOT Paris Hilton), the bingo playing skank, came in to retrieve her pawned pistol. She had been previously warned about being an asshole to me, so she pretended to be sweet, calling me darlin' and sweetheart. I hate her. Then she spent 10 minutes describing the disgusting state of her house. Apparently, it is so bad that neighbors are offering to clean it for her. She's a total bitch to everyone, so it MUST be disgusting. Did I mention I hate her? Because I do.
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Wednesday-The jeweler has been on vacation, and was supposed to return today, which we had told all his customers. Apparently, he had a run-in with some bad gumbo and didn't show up. No less than five people had a complete melt-down (complete with undignified hissy fits) when told that he was not there to replace their watch batteries. Ummm...people, time is a bunch of made up crap and you might want to think about taking some sedatives. Or at least spend $5 and buy a cheap plastic watch if the time is so damned important to you.

Thursday-I got really drunk the night before and sent out long rambling emails to a bunch of people, nothing too embarrassing I hope. No work, so I slept all day, with brief moments of wakefulness, which I used to read the totally awesome package I got from Marty. Buy his book people, it's excellent.

Friday-Who dropped the crazy bomb? The pill lady (with the drooling problem) came in with Frank. She borrowed the phone so Frank could add minutes to his prepaid cell (he's 10 by the way) and she took the opportunity to tell me about the person that sneaks into her house and switches jewelry with her (uh, what are you talking about crazy?). Also, some other shit about her relationship. Frank, as should be expected, was being rude to the poor girl at customer service, so his mom got involved. The conversation went like this.
pill lady "Yes, I want these minutes put on this phone right now!" 1 second pause. "Here he is" Looks at me. "Why won't they hire a damned American to talk on the phone? I cain't understand nothin' " One minute later, yelling from across the store, "Frank, tell her you want to talk to her Uh-mer-uh-can Soo-per-vi-ser! RIGHT NOW! Give me that phone! Muh-dame are you acknowledging the sound of my voice? I cain't understand you, I want an Uh-mer-uh-can. You are? Well I still cain't understand you, you're not east Texas.. Let me talk to your boss!"
Frank is told to wait. After three minutes, Frank yells into the phone "I am not a muh-dame, I am a man, I'm a ten year old boy, I'm an Uh-mer-uh-can, I play football. Put my minutes on the phone!"
It is at this point that I decide I will intervene on behalf of the poor customer service girl who had no clue she was answering the phone to batshit crazy. I add the minutes to their phone, using the simple instructions printed on the back of the card. Pill lady yells into the phone "We have accomplished this task without your assistance, thank you" and hangs up.

A man comes in to the shop for watch battery replacement. After being told the jeweler is not in, he sits down to talk, and ends up confessing his secret admiration for Fidel Castro.

The one-earred know-it-all I work with is over-heard telling a customer that we have the world's most corrupt government. His reason for thinking that? "See, the government just wiped out all the indians!" (Seriously, is that the best you could come up with?) "See," he says "I'm 1/64th indian." Oh yeah, well I'm 100% bored by this retarded conversation.

Later, a black man is talking to the know-it-all, and explains that the reason he is not allowed to buy a gun is that he was arrested during a civil rights march in 1968. After being told this, know-it-all throws up an awkward black power fist and says "Right on." Are you kidding me? I hear you tell rascist jokes all the time, and now you're expressing solidarity to the black man with a black power fist?

Finally, know- it-all explains to a group of people that the best way to clean a computer keyboard is to run it through the dishwasher. Sure it is.

Tomorrow, I start drinking in the afternoon.