I've got five weeks left, so...

It's true, I only have five weeks left at Paddock Pools. This is because
a) moving
b) birthdaying
c) cruising
d) schooling
and e) getting it on.


For all these reasons, some more so then others, I've decided to move on to the mythical world that is Tucson Arizona.
All that being said, with five weeks left, I don't have the patience of someone who desires to keep his job and move farther and farther up the ladder of superiority at Paddock.
Especially for people that seem to let slip the fact, that I'm not black, and the year is not 1850. The type of people who would drop a piece of paper on the ground and expect someone else to pick it up and hand it to them. The type of person who asks the same question twice in class. The type of person who sits in a nice car that that they didn't buy, with one of their friends in the front seat, stuffing their ugly faces with French fries and milkshakes and making fun of people for having beater cars...while listening to Gwen Stefani, who's music can only be classified as "auditory rape".
This breed of ass jockey is the one that loves Paddock the most, and one of their members is highly involved in an excellent experience of mine.


Anyways. This story starts out as any other would. I go to work, I do things, I try and build a robot, I get in trouble, I go back to doing correct things, I help incompetent customers.
And in doing so, my life becomes a little more difficult, and I become a slightly more troubled person.
Woman: Excuse me! I need some help!
Nate: Of course. What can I do for you?
Woman: Every time I come in here, you are always out of what I want! It's unreasonable! I mean, you built my pool, and I've spent lots and lots of money with you, but the quality of service is awful!
TRANSLATION: I'm a snotty bitch, and you're below me. I'm going to use extremely general statements to try and get you to feel bad and apologize.
Nate: Ok.
Woman: Now, I'm looking for the nets for the poles, and I can't find them anywhere! I am almost furious!
INTERJECTION: We have an ENTIRE wall for nets and brushes. It's huge. It's hard to miss. I would daresay impossible to miss. Our inventory says we have 391 nets totall, and It's not far off.
Nate: Oh. We don't have any.
Woman: WHAT!!? I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS!! I THOUGHT YOU WERE A POOL STORE!
Nate: Oh! We are! Look at all the pool stuff we have!
Woman: Ugh! It's not what I'm looking for. I just need a net for the pool.
Nate: And we will have those just as soon as the boys at the factory get set up again.
Woman: What does that mean?
Nate: You didn't hear?
Woman: Hear what?
Nate: Oh......well I don't know If I should be the one to tell you this....
INTERJECTION: At this point, she forgot about her vendetta against me and Paddock, and was now completely enamoured with my explanation.
Woman: Oh, you can tell me, it's alright.
Nate: Ok. but don't tell anyone I told you.
Woman: Ok
Nate: The factory burned down.
Woman: WHAT!?
Nate: Yep, the entire factory burned to the ground. 90 people died. It was awful.
Woman: Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that.
Nate: Yea, the whole net factory is gone. And all the nets along with it. It was really tragic.
Woman: Oh my.
Nate: Yes ma'am.
INTERJECTION: At this point I couldn't refrain from wiping a imaginary tear from my eye, and asking if "you'll excuse me for a minute" while I went into the back.
When I came out she was gone.
But not forgotten.




Owned.

By Clicking This And Continuing To Read, You Acknowledge That I Am Better Than You.

You don't get out much, do you?

A couple things.
1. I don't take any credit/blame for the previous post. I do however, apologize on behalf of ultimatestyle.blogspot.com for the emotional trauma it may have cause upon viewing.
2. I cut myself, and now have 5 stitches in the ring finger of my right hand. Awesome.
3. I haven't posted in a while. I suck.



Anyways (sigh),
I'm at work again, because that's mostly what I do. All the time. Plus, its a great way to meet really awesome people. You would be surprised at the types of vagrants and whores we have come into the store, but probably not as surprised at the massive amounts of subnormal intellect that somehow crawls into my store. It's as if Scottsdale was a giant syringe filled with people who are mentally underdeveloped, and that syringe is steadily being emptied onto the great anvil of nut-smashing discernment that is Paddock Pools, and more specifically, Nate Palmer.
I now assume that whenever anyone comes into my store, that they...
A) know nothing about pools or anything else that they want to talk about (I quote a Pool Guy who came in asking about the "Filter Flipper", when he was in fact talking about the door that separates the skimmer from the rest of your pool (Called a Wier Gate))
and
B) have probably never been out of their house before, and are to be treated as if they were new to the world, to social interaction, to retail, and everything that goes along with the aforementioned items.
With that in mind, here's what happened.
(Setup) A lady comes into to paddock pools to buy a toy for her 6 year old nephew's birthday, which would be taking place later that week. I had spoken with her earlier that day on the telephone to discuss pool toys, and so naturally, I would be the only one to help her, even though I happened to be on lunch when she decided to come in.
As I had spoken to her earlier, and her questions were only in regard to pool toys, I figured I could come out, answer a few questions, then get back to my double whopper, and be happy once again.
BIG MISTAKE
We wander around the pool toys for a while, during which time she asks me tons of questions about everything. ("What does this do" "Are batteries included" "Do you think he would have fun with this" What's the weight limit here") and other such bullshit.
So, after much thoughtful deliberation, she decides on one of our new items, a Floating Bounce House. I have neither seen this item in action, nor heard any feedback on said item, however, it looks kick-ass, and I would like one.
Of course, Ms. Customer asks me the price of the item, so I type in the SKU number (barcode), and give her the price of $119.99.
As this is a large item, and she seems to be a petit older woman, I do the gentlemanly thing and ask her If I can give her a hand to her car with her soon to be possession.
She accepts, and I carry it up to the cash register, where the cashier gives her a final balance of close to $130.00.
At this point, my story becomes somewhat unbelievable.
She turns to the cashier and yells both to her and to me, "WHAT?!!! I WAS TOLD 119.99, AND YOU ARE TELLING ME A DIFFERENT PRICE!! I'M ALMOST OUTRAGED!!!
(wait, almost outraged? What does that even mean?)
So, I do my duty as a good person, and explain to her that we in America pay tax on on EVERYTHING we buy, and the same applies here.
She responds with "Well, I was quoted a price, and now it seems that you are not going to make good on the price you quoted me. I would like to see your manager."
I tell her that I am the manager, and that I quoted her the retail price and not with tax because that's just how our computers operate.
She tells me "You're just trying to rip me off"
I grab a calculator, and do the math for her
She insists that I did it wrong, and does it herself.
Her results come to $7.77(77777)
I tell her that her math is wrong and that the tax in Arizona has been 7.95% since before I can remember, and that their is nothing that I can do for her to alleviate the strain that ten dollars in tax must put on her fiscal persona.
She tells me that she has friends in high places.
I respond by letting her know that I have lots of friends, and most of them are tall.
(I don't know why I said that, but it seemed to fit, because at this point, she was just pissing me off, and I was doing my best to mock her in and underhanded way, but everything just burst forth, and I couldn't help but shut down her weak ass threat/comment, with an extreme verbal takedown maneuver.)



She responds with a gasp, and by telling me that she'll never come back to a place that won't honor their prices.
I tell her to have a nice day
End

By Clicking This And Continuing To Read, You Acknowledge That I Am Better Than You.