Kiersten (I can't spell her name...that first name isn't there, is it?) visited me at work today and I met her mommy. ^_^ Canadians are fun, and funny. They don't even realize how strong their accents are.
I had one bitch of a customer. She buys a cake, leaves, and goes wherever she's going (park, restaurant, home, I don't know.) Then, because I apparently didn't hook the box's side properly (Please, I'm a professional box-maker by now.) the cake started to fall out, so in the midst of catching it she ruined the cake with her fat hands (this woman weighed like 1000 lbs I tell you!) and started crying, and the birthday kid started crying, and she demanded a new cake. There's no reason the cake should be my responsiblity once you've left the bakery! And, second, if you're holding the cake flat it shouldn't fall out, even if the box is open, dumbass. But she comes back to the bakery and she's this terrifyingly obese woman...she could seriously sit on me and end my life right quick. She's yelling and screaming, and no one else is there to help calm her down, and I can't Bobbie because she has a migraine. ARGH! Finally, after a good fifteen-twenty minutes, I just give her a damn cake to make her go away. But she's still bitching about how it's the wrong kind of cake and her little boy will be very disappointed, and I just want to shout "Woman! It's a fucking cake! Take it or leave it - I'm under no obligation to give you another. Sure, it's chocolate instead of burnt almond, but trust me, in ten years that boy won't remember anyway." She complains that he's a boy so he can't have a cake with flowers, and I just want to explode. Yes, ma'am, the chocolate flowers will turn your boy into an effeminite homosexual if he eats them.
Anyway, she says she's going to call my manager to complain about the poor customer service. Fuck that. My boss will laugh in her face; when I told him about what happened at closing he was mad as hell at her. He said if a problem like that ever comes up again, call him and he'll deal with it. Once the cake leaves the store, bitch is on her own.
Last night was the baby shower for Kristina, my manager at work. It started somewhere in the 8:30-9:00 range, but at always Jeannie and I were running fashionably late. Christine called to ask where we were, which surprised me, because I text messaged her twice and she hadn't replied to either of them, and I had assumed we were in a not-talking phase. She seemed in a good mood at the party, tho'. But I know it wasn't just in my head, either. Hmmm. Girls suck; they're far too confusing. Guys are great - when they're mad at you, they just tell you. I need more guy friends.
I had more to say, but I'm seriously gonna be late to school so I'm vamoosin'. Ciao!