SO...
ive heard about this jag-off who frequents the store for a couple years now. a real piece of work, a writer of sorts. i hear he was interviewed by matt lauer when his first work was published. well, so was tom cruise, and that guy is completely ape shit.
the thing about the writer/jag-off is that he may well be the most obnoxious screw head this side of marblehead, a lofty position to hold i tell you. hes consistantly berading and belittling the help at the store with no provocation or warning. what we in the retail industry call an "asshole".
well today was my turn to take a spin on the wheel of assholes as he came up to me and shot out this cutsie lil barb, "do you know what youre doing? cuz you look really stupid." on the outside i remained level and calm, like the great salt lake, but on the inside i was lake fuckin ontario... so i breath and say," are you sure you know what youre doing?" w/j-o," yeah, i just like to get a rise out of people. you just look especially stupid." and thus began the second greatest conversation to ever take place at the 506 trader joes store. longer and more involved than the number one conversation, but nothing can replace this beauty, "no im sorry ma'am, were all out of walnut penises. PIECES. walnut pieces." a classic sure to remain as such. ( my apologies to jon, as i have mentioned that the nuts were walnuts. my mistake. they were certainly pecans...BUT, walnuts are funnier so..)
SO... Ray Barron. a half deaf, half jew, half pint, half wit. this piss ant of a man asks me if i know how or like to read, i say "sure, now and again." he asks where do i read, and i say, "at home i guess ray." he asks where that is, and i tell him hes "not getting my home address. salem, ray." "oh! so youre a loser too huh?" he responds. so i ask him where he lives and he tells me proudly that hes a resident of swampscott. i tell him that "that must be nice, but we cant all be crooks now can we ray. there needs to be some honesty left in the world, as most of it has dissapeared from the north shore." then he comes with this one, "are you on the internet?" me-"do i look like im on the internet?" ray- "not now stupid, at home." "yeah, ive dabbled." i say. "look me up. im a writer. i wrote a couple books." now this is with sincerity and honesty that i say this, "ill do ya one better, ill read your books. what are they about?" "OH you wouldnt understand 'em. theyre about a decade...called the forties." "oh yeah, i think i remember reading something about that in my history books." i quip. and he gives me the greatest segue ever,"yeah, theyre autobiographical, about what i was doing and well, basically how much i got laid." to which i come with, "really? mustve been a very short and boring book."
now im so into this guys head he's completely stumbling mentally. but im so into ripping on him that i forget where it is that i am, and it is at this point in the conversation that i begin to re-notice my surroundings. bananas, frozen foods, plastic bags...a grocery aisle...a register...my boss...shit...im at work. so now im waiting for his big comeback. his "fuck you, wheres your boss!" rebuttal. and im scared. and thats when he pops out with this one," hey, youre alright. good talkin to ya." and thats when i knew...
that one day, i would end up just like ray barron, talkin shit to some pencil neck. and ill think i won the battle, but the pencil neck will have beaten me hands down. and i wont care, cuz it wont be about winning or losing anymore, but just knowing that you can still fight. so to ray barron i say this, my grandfather used to let me win at all sorts of games, but youre not my grandfather, so prepare for a verbal asskickin next time youre in.
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