The Randomist

Take a deep breath and prepare to be astounded by the amount of violent rage I keep bottled inside on a daily basis. I’m about to expose you to more of the horror that is my job at the lovely Store-Mart. I vaguely recall mentioning the fact that we no longer offer one hour film developing. Apparently it was no longer cost effective to keep chemicals that I would gladly drink in order to never again have to deal with these people. Hell is a merrier place. Some might think I’m exaggerating, but some have never had the joy of working in retail. One hour photo, getting back to it. When people want film developed, we have them package it up as usual and drop it in a box where it gets shipped to an out lab. It takes a week to come back. A few weeks ago, I had a woman call up and ask if her rush order had made it back to the store. CT: “My name is Cammy Trockett (Look how clever I am! You see what I did there?).” Me: “Okay. Was it film or digital?” CT: “It was pictures.” Me: “I ge...

More happy work related topics. Please welcome our next guest: Mr. or Mrs. Oh boy am I clever. I hate this person. I want to kill them. At the very least, stab them in the eye with a pair of scissors. You’ve all been to a store at some point recently where they have to mark your money with what I like to call my “secret decoder pen”, or as the rest of the world calls them, counterfeit pens. They poke your money and if it stays yellow, or light brown, you’re good to go, if it turns black, you become Big Bertha’s Prison Bitch. Side note, these pens do not work. It told me, yes, the pen turned its head and said plain as day “Hey, it’s real, come on, believe me. Would I lie to you?” Yes, yes you would magic pen. So anyways, magical talking decoder pen told me that this rather odd looking fifty dollar bill was real. It said the same thing to my manager. The bank however, did not agree. But I digress. Boss man told me that I had to start marking EVERYTHING except one dollar bills...