Oh no she di-int, I thought. But yes that little bitch had did. She tweezed my winter cap and gloves to move them aside.

You know that move when you don’t really wanna touch something but you think you have to, so you scrounge up your face and pick it up with the tips of your forefinger and thumb. To tweeze.

I had forgotten my stuff on the counter at AH and that little piglike cashier got grossed out, picked my stuff up like she was touching shit. I mean if you don’t wanna touch my shit tell me to move it. And she was blatant about it too; looked me dead in the eye while she tweezed. The little bitch!

I said “wow you don’t have to touch ‘m like that. They weren’t worn by a pig.”
She said “excuse me?” I repeated: “between the two of us I’m not the one who looks like a pig.” She didn’t get it.

I gave her a sneer. “You don’t belong behind that counter. Maybe you should look for another job where you don’t interact with people.”

She goes, “oh no I’m OK here.”

I rephrase: “yeah, this is the only place that will have you, little bitch.”

She looses the staring contest and I walk off, realizing I just won a battle with a minimum wage earning little hog who will probably never do a fifth of the things I did in my life.