am i impatient, or are you just a dick fuckslut?

it's not terribly often that i bitch about or even mention work, but this weekend warrants mention. holy fucking shit, people. taking charge of your health means actually doing research-- yes, that means reading books, magazines (Canadian ones, not women's day or women's world and not just the ads), and medical journals. the internet is not your doctor, but if you learn to use the internet, you could find out how much gluten is in barley if it fucking even mattered and you weren't just trying to waste my time and yours.

"hi, i'm losing my hair, i have an acidic stomach which is also fat i just can't seem to lose weight i don't have time to eat vegetables i try to eat well but i just can't i think your pills made my stomach hurt i also am an asshole who wants to eat up all your time yes i've seen a naturopath but she doesn't even know what to say to me anymore if i take these pills will it help will it help the four problems i have will i lose weight will i get my hair back will my stomach stop hurting will it help my thyroid will it help me be less demanding and annoying and such a slut and what is the difference between this and that and will this also do that and that and that and do you have one cheaper and that's easier to swallow when do i take this how much is it will it work when will i see it work....."

i actually walked away from this customer, told her i'd come back and never did. in fact, i strategically avoided her.

yesterday i kicked a box and pulled my hair while talking to a customer and threw styrofoam in his direction. my throat actually hurt from repeating myself (oh, and from complaining about him) like 4 times per fact, even though he understood exactly what i was talking about-- he's just a fuckwad. he was in the store for about three hours. i almost blew a gasket.

stop fucking bothering me.

i get paid precious little money. i'm not a doctor. i'm not a dietitian. i'm not your gall bladder or your husband or you-- how about you make your own decision? go home and eat your mother's ass for lunch. i can't help you because you don't know what's wrong with you except that you have a horrible diet and personality. come back when you're a decent, sentient human being, and not a minute before. i don't know how you'll digest wehani rice and i actually don't fucking care. i don't care that you can't swallow that capsule-- try harder, you fucking pussy.

don't ask how much it is when the price is on the top don't ask about something that you don't even care about don't interrupt me when i'm talking to someone else don't ask me to order something obscure and interrogate me, a fucking vitamin clerk, unnecessarily because you didn't do say your buddhist rosaries be nice to someone this week just once you piece of jerk.

ok, i'm impatient, but you're still a dick fuckslut.