I am in a weird dark place for some reason at this point in my life where its hard to have fun and I am generally on edge. No real reason behind it other than my malignant job constantly pressing in on my vital organs but that is turning into a boring excuse. I was running around getting little done today and the two people who crossed my path sideways got both barrels. One of them was the guy that went missing earlier this week. No explanation, a meek sorry, and then as he was getting ready to sip from my drinking fountain of forgiveness I opened up the fire hose.
The second victim of the day was some new guy at the Speedway. I am not as familiar with the weekend staff because I don’t see them on a regular basis but most of them know me and allow for my eccentricities. The number one rule in earning my pop business is never touch my prepared drink. Ever since the Alzheimer’s slash Scabies patient I was transporting leaned over and took a big drag off my pop years ago I am always on high alert. (why I just typed the full word slash back there I have no clue)
In my defense there is no procedural reason for the Speedy checker to manipulate my drink in any way. Nothing to scan, they just note which size I have and charge accordingly. This clown grabbed my cup by the lid to move it for no apparent reason and brushed his money and god knows what else covered hand against my naked and now dead straw. In fact I declared the entire pop ruined and started over from scratch narrating each step in a mini tirade. He started to say something about having to charge me for the cup I threw out and my only reply was to dare him.