Wednesday, January 07, 2015

Should I be Fired?

“My son just wants to take a look at iPhones,” said a middle-aged woman who hurriedly walked in our store on the Upper West Side. She wore very expensive clothing and was talking on her cell phone. She gestured at me to go away. Over-entitled Upper West Side bitch.

I turned to the boy. He was about 17, also well-attired, but not wearing it well. He was overweight, had thick glasses, and was all wrinkled. “The iPhones are right over--”

“I know where they are,” he interrupted and brushed past me. He immediately started touching all the app icons on our demo iPhone.

“Where's the big one? The iPhone 6 Plus?”

“We don't have a demo of the Plus,” I responded. “But if you want to know the size, this is the case for it.”

“What kind of store doesn't have a demo of the Plus?!? How am I supposed to decide on a phone I can't try out!?! This is ridiculous. This store is stupid.” He looked at me with detest.

I hit him with a left hook right in the gut. He grunted as the force caused him to bend slightly forward, which was unfortunate for him as it made it easier for me to connect with a followup right uppercut to the jaw. The punk literally flew into the iPhone display, which got knocked off the shelf. He slammed against the wall and slumped down to the floor. OtterBox cases and car chargers rained down upon him as he lay on the ground, groaning, with his bloodied face.

“Is it the same price here as online?” He asked.

Startled, I snapped out of my fantasy. “Yeah, Apple controls their pricing. iPhones are always the same cost no matter where you buy them.”

“Good,” he said, still playing with the iPhone. “I already ordered mine online. I just wanted to play with this one.”

“You already ordered it?!? YOU'RE WASTING MY TIME FUCKING WITH STORE iPHONES WHEN YOU ALREADY ORDERED THE PIECE OF SHIT ONLINE?!? COME HERE YOU OVERENTITLED TWERP!” I quickly put him in a headlock. “YOU WANT TO SEE AN iPHONE?!?! HERE'S A GODDAMN iPHONE!!” I started smashing his fat face into the iPhone display.

“What are you doing?!?” His mom shouted. I reached for an iPad with my free hand and quickly flung it, frisbee-style at the mom, knocking her in the forehead. She fell to the ground. The contents of her Prada purse spilled out onto the floor. A bag came out marked “Two Million Dollars of Untraceable Bills that can Definitely be Stolen and You'll Totally Get Away With it and Quit Retail”.

I quit smashing the punk's face and rushed over, grabbed the money, and ran for the door. Yes! I'm free forever! I can write and perform all I want and--

“Okay, that's enough,” said the kid. “I can't wait to get my phone! MOM! I'm ready to go!”

The mother, who was still on the phone, simply turned and left, and the son followed her out the door.