With the fun and no-end-in-sight global recession, many companies are offering exciting steals and deals to somehow boost the economy, which happens to be sinking like Natalee Holloway into the Caribbean.Car dealerships are offering buy one get one free sales on their gas guzzlers, and Quiznos has attempted to one-up Subway with their new $4 sandwich that looks about as filling as a McDonald's snackwrap. Everywhere you look, there are specials, sales, and overweight Americans.
Despite advertising huge clearance events and running more ads than ever, there is one thing that will seemingly never be affected by the poo poo economy. And that, friends, is customer service. There are some places that are always hit or miss, like the ghetto grocery store Brandon and I frequent that is also frequented by swarms of cop cars and the angry, cursing black men these cops pin to the walls outside. Inside, there are security guards and "pick up your food stamp/ WIC credit" counters. There are also very interesting cashiers. They either do not speak, and simply hold out their hand with a sassy look on their face to request your ID, or they inappropriately joke about how you made your fiance buy your tampons. Life is like a box of chocolates.
I've also noticed particularly poor service at bars, but only with female bartenders. It's as if even in the dark, smoky bar, they can tell I am more attractive/ less of a raging slut than they are. Hm. In comparison, Wendy's has significantly stepped up their game to always have on the schedule an extremely polite obese man with a headset and, if I had to guess- a college education. Said man will rationally reprimand the pee-ons who put mayonnaise on my chicken sandwich, and in turn make me doubt my capabilities as a future parent.
However, there is one place that will always have terrible service. And that place is a tanning salon. Those bitches are the nastiest, shortest, most unfun bunch of airheads I've ever had the pleasure of conversing with once a month. Even the Asians at nail salons are more polite. They ask "what colla you wan?" as if it is important to choose quickly because someone might take your color. Or "you bite yo nail?!!!!!!" because they're just looking out for your cuticle well-being. I trust them. I do not, however, trust the orange girl whose only words I ever hear without eavesdropping are "LAST NAME?!". I say without eavesdropping because there is a particular girl who works at the salon I go to whose Asian skater boyfriend comes in and sits, and they argue about who lies the most, and why they can't trust each other. It's powerful stuff. Anyway, what the fuck is wrong with these girls? Is it UV poisoning? Is it that they don't like to wipe up ass sweat after each person leaves? Is it that they are actually secret representatives for World Health and their plot is to deter women from slowly and voluntarily damaging their skin?!!! It's a mystery. But it's expected. It's something I can count on. Just like that the fan will broken, and the radio will always be set to the trashiest, most Akon-ish station there is. And I will for some reason consider clubbing during my 20 minute nod off in the cancer box.
