Retail sucks. Retail really, really sucks. Anyone who makes a career out of it probably also owns gag balls and riding crops and has hookers over every Friday night to tie them to the bedposts and discipline them.

But working retail in a store for pregnant women-- that is a truly soul draining experience. Not only do I deal with stupid customers on a daily basis, but I must also own up to the grim reality that these people and their relatives are breeding

First off, there's a Haitian lady who's been frequenting our store for the past two weeks. I've rang her up three times and each time it's the same routine.

"'Ow much dis? 'Ow much dis? I buy dis, I no want dis. Okay, 'ow much now?"

This would be alright if the lady were merely ignorant of the fact that, in the United States, we list our prices on the shelf tags for everyone to see. I could understand if, maybe, she were simply unfamiliar with the American marketplace. But then I'll scan an item and she'll stop me.

"Dis say 4.99 on shelf. Why you say 5.99? Is 4.99. You go see, over dere."

I grumble silently and go check the shelf tag, all the way realizing that I'm not dealing with a doddering old Haitian woman but a canny bargain hunter who purposefully has me read off every single item to her so she can squeeze every last penny out of me that she can. Even this might not be a problem if the woman didn't then question why the total and subtotal were different. I've explained the concept of sales tax to her twice already and she still asks.

I'm not a fan of our store so I really shouldn't care so much, but I'm tragically Jewish, so I have to fight my genetic urge to argue back to the letter of the law.

Stop staring at me like that, I'm allowed to be self deprecating. That's the fun part of being a Jew.

A few minutes later I see a girl walk through the door. There was nothing particularly stupid about her except that she was walking with her hands out to her sides, arms flexed, wrists limp, and swishing like a gay man trying to do "I'm a Little Teapot" from both sides of his body. I have seen plenty of gay men swish. I've even swished myself in the privacy of my own home after dark when nobody was looking. But I have never seen a girl swish, not in such an overly affected way. It was actually offensive.

Sure enough, she comes up to my register. I ask if she has a rewards card. She looks at me for a moment and gives me her best valley girl. "Ummm... I dunno. But I'm pretty sure my mom has one." That's great, sweetheart. I'll remember to ask your mom for the card next time she buys your schoolbooks here.

And let us not forget the best part of my day: the woman who could not remember her own name. I will spare her the embarrassment by leaving her name out of this, suffice it to say that when I asked her for it to look up her account, she took a good ten seconds to remember her last name. I thought it was just a brain fart until it took her another ten seconds to remember her first name. Yes ladies and gentlemen, there are people out there who apparently need to think about the question "What is your name?"

Now, I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason for these people being so stupid. Maybe if I got to know any one of these individuals I'd find they were perfectly tolerable people. But I don't know them, nor do I want to, so instead I will share the tales of their ridiculously low intelligence and let the rest of the world decide.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make a phone call. My aunt just had twins and I haven't found out how many yet.

-Geo