Waiting in line at Target yesterday I overheard the following conversation between the checkout chick and the customer.

CHECKOUT CHICK: Would you like to buy a 10 cent bag today?
CUSTOMER: No, I’d like a free one.
CHECKOUT CHICK: We don’t have free bags anymore, they are 10 cents.
CUSTOMER: Well then I guess I don’t have a choice, Do I?
CHECKOUT CHICK: Would you like a large or a small one?
CUSTOMER: I think I made it pretty clear I’ve never bought one before; therefore I have no idea of the size difference. Show me one.
CHECKOUT CHICK: *shows her both sizes
CUSTOMER: How ridiculous is this? Paying for a bag. You people are incredible. Just forget it, I'm not giving you another cent.

All the while the customer, a woman, sort of danced around adjusting her fake bejangers and touched up her lip-gloss. The little Checkout girl was shitting herself, obviously not liking the conflict and clearly not used to stupid bitches being so incredibly rude to her about a ten cent bag.

Um, it’s 10 cents you heinous critter. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

That’s what I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to tap her on the shoulder and ask her if she gets a thrill out of being such a stuck-up mole. Or making young girls, just doing their jobs, have a shit day, just because she’d never been taught any manners.

But I didn’t. Because I’m chicken shit. And I hate confrontation. But it wasn’t right and all I could do was give my best evil-eye look to the back of the dipshits bleached head and my best solidarity smile to the checkout girl. I think she understood. Either that or, with my off tap, crazy hair that day, she just thought I was an escaped mental patient with bizarre facial tics.

Next time but, I am going to calmly tell a woman like that to be nicer and more respectful to other people. And when that doesn’t work. I will speak to her in the language she seems to understand. Bitch speak.