The Graveyard Shift Diaries #2

Nightly Douchebaggery:
Trying to understand what a customer is saying through a bulletproof window, with only a slit for a sliding tray, and an old speaker system, on its last leg is a pain in the ass. Especially when their minds are altered with one substance or another. Every night is an awkward experience trying to figure out what the hell people are saying. It could either be “Five on eight.” Eight being the pump number. Or, “Like to go on a date.” Which, I only said yes to once (I swear). And option three, “I like to rape.” Money doesn’t always appear instantly, so it is not a given. 
Something I discovered, is that people loathe to repeat themselves. I ask in the most polite 2am tone I have, “I’m sorry, what was that?” Or “Did you say ten dollars on seven?” The response 60% of the time is a dirty look, and a highly irritated tone. The other 40% are colorful insults which include a hearty mix of; deaf, open your ears, dumb, idiot, and bitch. And to really drive it home, they lift the money tray lid, and stick their fat heads down to the opening. That way, I never miss a syllable when being informed I’m a waste of space. After a few years of this, I finally grab my balls and say, “Relax! We are not in the same room. The speaker is, like, 20 years old. Complain to management, and maybe the owner will open his pockets, and buy a new one.” After awhile, at least regular customers start speaking at an audible level.
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