First off, early this morning, a guy just couldn't wait to wrap his lips around the chocolate milk he hadn't paid for yet. So, Mr. Chocolate Mustache brings his milk to the counter to pay for it. He hands it to me and I tilt it over, as I'm wont to do with every single product before scanning, to scan it. This is so that the mounted scanner, which points down, can read the bar code. So, the top goes 'fling', then the milk goes WHOOSH, all over the counter, like a mini-ROGUE WAVE. MY EYES bugged out. I looked at the guy. After my eyes settled, I narrowed them. The guy stammered a little. I picked up the spilled bottle between my thumb and forefinger, like an indignant butler. I stalked over to the sink counter, emptied it into the sink, put it down to be written off later, and grabbed some paper towels. I solemnly wiped up the milk. Some of it had leaked underneath the glass window thing which makes the counter transparent so that the customers can drool over the lottery scratch off tickets. I examined this uncleanable bit of milk with obvious distaste and then informed the customer in a very professional, polite, no-nonsense tone that he could go get another bottle of milk. He scurried off like a scolded child and got another one. When he got back to the counter, I wiped it again a couple more times for good measure. Then I finished ringing him up.
Later, when I was ordering more milk to replace that which was so blatantly and carelessly wasted earlier, Land O Lakes Half & Half creamer came up for order. However, it was abbreviated. It read: LOL H&HA. I thought this was hilarious.
Around midday, a customer was at Adela's register. Another customer said this:
"Hey, are you going to class?"
To which the guy at the register replied:
"Yeah, in a few minutes."
"Are you late?"
At this point their conversation drifted off into banal background chatter and I tuned it out. Until about five minutes later. Then I heard and saw this:
The girl was glaring at the guy, who was standing at the door with it half open, looking back at the girl. She said:
"I don't like you. I don't like talking to you."
The guy then promptly left without another word. Damn, what did I miss? Damn damn damn. There went some good gossip.
One more thing. Earlier this week, Blue Slurpee was leaking from the ceiling. I missed out on this fun and only saw the after-carnage, which was a lot of blue spatter-sticks all over the microwave, and some blue gunk gathered around the base of the Slurpee machine. Then I get to work today and Pina Colada Slurpee has leaked all over the floor and is flowing out from under the machine. Adela created a Paper Towel Barrier which effectively blocked the slow flowing, viscous liquid. It reminded me of blood when I stepped in it. Clear, but the same consistency. Not that I've ever stepped in a pool of blood, but that's what it reminded me of, anyway. Anyway, the Slurpee guy showed up and got all up in the ceiling to fix it (apparently this leak originated in the ceiling too). When he got down, he said there was 'rat feces' all up in there. So, 7-Eleven is infested with rats. Nice.