My "Pepper Allergy"

I'd like to share one of my personal victories that I've had since being behind the customer service counter.  First of all, I'd like to state that my customer service is typically pretty good, even on a bad day.  I only turn into a brunette version of the Vancome Lady (played by a wonderfully talented Nicole Sullivan) when I'm hungry.  Or sleepy.  Or annoyed.  Or whatever.

Go ahead, look her up - I'll wait.

I put up with a lot of shit.  When people are sent to me, they're typically already angry and I'm just cleaning up the mess.

On this particular day, I started out in a pretty good mood.  Of course, this means that I'm going to get the biggest assholes.

A man walked into the store with his maybe 12-year-old kid.  I don't know if this man had issues with himself, or just wanted to be a dick in front of his kid.  Either way, he walks in unwrapping something in a produce bag.

These are badass dads.  Picking on a girl at a customer service counter does not make you one of them.

Once he got close enough to me, he unwrapped it fully and plopped the gooey mess in my hand.  It was a rotten, cut open pepper.  He just dropped the whole sticky disgusting mess right in my hand.  The smell itself was enough to burn the inside of my nose.  Peppers as a whole, even un-rotten ones, disgust me: the smell, the taste, even the texture.  Because of this, I immediately just dropped the pepper on the counter and dove for my Sani-hands wipes.

This, but more open and more slime.

While scrubbing my hands, I realized I was scrubbing so hard that they were turning red.  I got an evil plan.

I stood back up and showed the customer my hands.  I said, "You'll have to excuse me, I have a slight allergy."

He started stammering apologies while I processed his refund, and even made a point to apologize again before he left the store.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Act like a douche, prepare to feel like a bitch.