“Excuse me, sir, are you out of Super Berry Kombucha.”

“Our rep. stocks that stuff daily, so if it’s not out there then we’re out of it.” I said, coming around the corner to check if she’s just not seeing it.

As I’m standing there sorting through bottles, she says, “Well, you know, most people check the back stock.”, with the usual passive-aggressive sarcasm that I’ve come to expect from Portlanders.

“I’ve heard of people doing things like that in grocery stores.” I snapped back. So I walk around and check the cooler, we did happen to be out of that product, but when you treat the employment like shit, they’re almost always going to be of whatever you’re looking for. “Sorry, we’re all out.” I said, as I returned to my work.

“Really, you looked, and you’re all out of that product?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You’re positive you’re out.”

“Well you’re only at one of four places in this story we keep chilled drinks. I suggest looking at the other three.”

It’s pretty fucking hard to keep a job stocking when you can’t put shit out on a shelf. But these fucking people act like we don’t want them to buy our shit. I love holiday weekends–always brings in the assholes.

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