May 30, 2003: Customers, DIE 2: Electric Boogaloo

The more stuff you buy, the more hours I get to work and the more I get paid. Therefore, it is foolish to think I am hiding merchandise from you. If the shelf is empty, and I say we don't have any, it means WE DON"T HAVE ANY. So don't expect me to get out the forklift and pull every goddamn pallet out of the steel just to prove that to you. And if you come back with a manager ten minutes later, he's not going to be able to magically conjure up something that's not there, you stupid waste of life. DIE.

I know the merchandise better than you ever will. So if you ask for something we've never carried and tell me "well, I bought it here last week," you're a fucking liar, and you need to die for that. So die.

It's called "Science Diet." More specifically "Hill's Science Diet." So don't come asking me for "Scientific Diet," "Hill's Diet," or "Science Hill" dog food. And "Eukanuba" is pronounced "You-canoe-buh," not "you-cabana" or "you-kun-oo-ber," or "yukah-brenner." And I don't know what the deal was with the guy who wanted Pro Plan dog food but asked for "Pro Fat" dog food's problem was, but he probably needs to die.

Prescription dog food is just that - PRESCRIPTION dog food. So don't ask me to "cut you a break" if you don't have a prescription. I will cut you, though. Until you die.

There's a reason you walk your dog at home. So it might make sense to do it before you bring him here, so people don't have to slide around and kill themselves on the piles of shit and piss he leaves everywhere. And if your dog shits or pisses everywhere, TELL SOMEONE. Don't just whistle mischeviously and zip off to the other side of the store. We're not going to punish you for the sins of your dog's bladder. But we should, though. In fact, you really should DIE.

If your short-haired dog's shedding bothers your anal-retentive ass so much that you have to get someone from the grooming department to shave him completely bald him from head to tail, you really should reconsider your decision to own a dog. And your decision to continue life. DIE.

I'm not going to sell you a shock collar designed for a 40 pound dog for you to use on your eight-pound cat, you sick fuck. I should hook the bettery from the forklift to your neck and let you see how it feels, asshole. You won't be feeling it long though, because I'm going to back it over you, too. DIE.

If you want to find out what food you need to feed to your two new birds, just tell me "I got these two new birds, and I was wondering what to feed them." That's all you need to say. Don't give me some big overly dramatic "I bought a bird cage and prayed for the good Lord to fill it, and I was blessed with two beautiful pigeons, blah blah blah" speech that you probably rehearsed for an hour before you came here. It's a waste of time, and it makes you sound like some freaky David Koresh weirdo. So don't waste my fucking time attributing every little thing you have in your life to "the good Lord," goddammit. Your God is a lie. YOUR GOD IS A LIE. Die.

Do I work here? Well, no, I don't. I just enjoy going out while wearing a Petsmart shirt and name badge, while stocking heavy items at random stores across town, you fucking moron. DIE.

If your kid keeps pulling all the dog toys off the shelf and throwing them in the floor, I'm going to pick him up by the ankles and beat you to death with him. DIE.

If you want to know what a canned cat food looks like, ask someone, or maybe - get this - READ THE CAN. If I see another person open up a can and dump it out on the shelf, I'm going to slash their wrists with the lid of the can. DIE.

At 9:00 PM, the store closes, and you know this. This is why we ask you to "make your final selections and come to register one, blah blah blah" at that time. So don't ask me at 9:05 if someone can open the cage so your little brat can hold a hamster. Go home. Go home and die.

I'm feeling much better now.