"How much is this, anyway?

If you ask me the price of an item, and the process of me finding it involves turning my head and looking at the clearly-marked price tag on the shelf, you should die.

Yes, the grapes are seedless. Die.

Wal Mart has this deal where if another store has an advertised price that's lower than ours, we'll give you whatever the item is for that price. Good deal. But I hate these ass-butts who will bring in a sale paper from a store that's like a block away (Albertson's) and throw it all in my face with this really snotty tone, as if they're really bucking the system and scoring a crushing blow against the corporate giants by getting a lime for fifteen cents instead of twenty. But they never realize this little detail: Yeah, we might be losing five cents on that lime you just bought, but the store with the advertised lower price is losing FIFTEEN! That's why stores have deals like that! Selling something for less is a lot better than not selling it at all, dumbass. Choke on your lime and die.

"Fifty cents!? I can get this at Albertson's for thirty!" THEN WHY AREN'T YOU AT FUCKING ALBERTSON'S? Die.

The grapes are SEEDLESS! It says so on the fucking BAG! Die!

"You sure are proud of these tomatoes. Why, I used to be able to get 'em for ten cents apiece." Yeah, and around the same time, you could also get dinosaur bait for about eight sheckels. It's not my fault that you've gone so long without dying that you can't understand inflation. And dying is definitely something you should strongly consider.

"Where are the oranges? Or do you not carry those anymore?" Yeah, because no produce department in their right mind would ever carry such a non-selling, exotic fruit, like a friggin' orange. Die.

Look, goddammit! The grapes are seedless! I would not tell you this if it wasn't true! I don't go around lying to people about fucking grapes, and then dart off to the bag and tell someone, "Yeah, got another one! Fucker's gonna munch SEEDS! Ha!" If I say they're seedless, this means they're seedless. Die.

At certain times, the bagged salads all have the same date. Yet even when this becomes painfully obvious, the people will still flip through them for hours, like some thick-glasses-wearing super dork in a record store, looking for that one super-obscure vinyl record that's sure to make the girl at the Starbucks in the bookstore notice them and really think they're some special person worthy of respect, and not just an insecure nerd who tries to dress like that one guy he saw in a Jimmy Eat World video, when he'd be much more comfortable in a Star Trek t-shirt. God, I hate emo kids. But anyway, yeah. The salads have the same date. Just grab one and go, or I'll hack you to pieces with a watermelon knife. Die.

"Can I have all that bad produce you've got on the bottom of your cart for free? I'm going to feed it to the squirrels." Yeah, to the squirrels IN YOUR BELLY. Die.

Look. I don't mind helping you out. Hell, I love helping you out. Customer service makes my dick hard. Okay, maybe not. That would be creepy and wrong. But I'll answer your questions and steer you in the right direction with your grocery queries more often than not. But when you ask me a question, do this first: GET MY ATTENTION AND MAKE SURE I KNOW YOU'RE TALKING TO ME. If you have something to ask, don't ask it to the back of my head, quietly, from ten feet away. And while you're at it, die.

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!! CAN YOU NOT READ!? THE GRAPES! THEY ARE SEEDLESS! AS IN NOT HAVING SEEDS! BLLAAARRGGGHRAFFGHRSKJHASDFKAJHFA!!!!!!! Die.

There, I'm done. For now.