|Warning: Smarter than actual sales help. |
Hole in head optional.
Myself, at the local chocolatier's establishment yesternight:
"I'd like half a dozen thingamajigs, please."
Retarded Minion of Stupidity employed by said chocolatier:
"How many thingamajigs would you like?"
"Half a dozen, please."
Retarded Minion, now looking thoroughly bumflustercated:
"Um...how many would that be?"
Myself, thankful that Retarded Minion is juuuuuust barely beyond range of a polite roundhouse slap to the side of the head sufficient to loosen fillings:
"That would be six thingamajigs, please."
Retarded Minion, flooded with obvious relief at being freed from further mathemagical distress and consternation:
"Ah!...Yes, six, got it."
Gobsmacked: Not only an actual thing, but frequently also the solution to the problem.
The bill for the thingamajigs was then announced as $6.96, whereupon I handed her a $5 bill and two singles, and I swear for a moment it looked as if she was going to have to take off her shoes to count, and failing that ploy, be forced to use her lifeline to call the engineers at NASA to correctly calculate that she owed me 4¢ in change thereof.
Which is by way of noting that she was old enough to vote, and English-fluent, but that clearly second grade mathematics had completely kicked her ass, and she should be beaten with a stout rod until she could master the fundamentals of basic math.
That the common phrase "half a dozen" baffled the blistering fuck out of her suggests that the manager there is similarly a lackwit in urgent need of a new job in either the custodial maintenance or street-level recycling industries.
Retarded Minion's (undoubtedly Common Core public education) teachers, to the last one, should be horsewhipped until their flesh is ripped off and the bones show, and then put up against a wall and shot.
Slowly, starting at the toes, and working up to more important parts.
Put in charge of the firing party, I should make them each count the rounds as they were fired.
I swear to Buddha, I'm going back there tomorrow, and if she's still employed there, I'm going to pay her with $2 bills and $1 coins, just to watch her head explode against the walls.
And these sorts of fucktards are going to get $15/hr in a couple of years?
The economy will collapse. Civilization is doomed. You read it here first.
Ron White was wrong: I can fix this kind of stupid, but you've got to allow me to use a big enough hammer.
At any rate, a couple of more of these incidents, and I'm going to abandon all civility, and start going full-on As Good As It Gets on these morons, to reduce them to tears as a policy, and sport.
Related: Peter runs into similar distress at the local hospital.