When my order was a burger and a drink shy, I came inside to get it straightened out. When I explained what was wrong (fairly calmly, I might add, although you won't believe it) the little bassturd snatched,
snatched, the bag, I assume to correct my order, off the counter, and
rolled his eyes at me.
We all have triggers. Now the young fellow working the counter knew one of mine. I hate that shit.
Quote:
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I tell ya what, ya smarmy little fuck, just give me my money back. You roll your eyes at me again, I'm gonna knock you cross-eyed.
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What are ya gonna do? As much as I might like to, ya can't just hand out ass-whoopings willy-nilly. Plus, you run the risk of getting handed one yourself. Ya can't set the place on fire, there's laws and shit. So, the next ten times I want one of that kind of burger...
...I'm going somewhere else. That's my only revenge, take my money elsewhere. It doesn't bother the store, doesn't bother the company, therefore accomplishes nothing. Absolutely nothing. But
I feel better knowing they're not getting my money.
What I'd
actually like to do is kick the boy's mom & dad in the face with a golf shoe. "Raise yer fucking kids." POW!, right in the kisser. POW!, right in the kisser. POW!, right in the kisser. POW!, right in the kisser. POW!, right in the kisser. POW!, right in the kisser. POW!, right in the kisser.[/FamilyGuy]