- Dec 28, 2001
- 11,391
- 3
- 0
Alright, I work at a hotel chain. I said this before, but old people suck.
Not really. Most of them are nice, friendly people that are (sometimes) lonely. But they're really, really nice people!
And then there are the old douchebags.
They're like the douchebags that are our peers, but they get old. Imagine that - literally; An old used-up douchebag sitting out in the sun for 30 days. That's a pretty good description of the whiny horror that are the old douchebags, if not accounting for the smell and the non ending complaints.
Well, one of them comes up to me, the only one in the hotel, by the way, holding a half-opened candy bar. SO . . .
Me: Can I help you sir?
Old Man: I went to get a candy bar at the vending machine . . .
Me: (I can see that) so what can I help you with?
Old Man: [visibly frustrated] Well look! This is all hot and melted! A mess!
Me: Uh . . . sir?
Old Man: Listen; what kind of . . . [he goes on a rant about a melted candy bar for five minutes]
Me: ?
Old Man: Well?
Me: What sir?
Old: Well, I want a refund!
That old fvcker wanted a refund and bitched me out. For a melted candy bar. Wow. I just preceeded to tell him that I can't do anything, and he's asking me who's in charge of the vending machines like I need to call him up and send for a technician. For a melted candy bar. Finally he walks away about how lousy this is and all this. And I stand here dumbfounded.
Fvcking great.
Not really. Most of them are nice, friendly people that are (sometimes) lonely. But they're really, really nice people!
And then there are the old douchebags.
They're like the douchebags that are our peers, but they get old. Imagine that - literally; An old used-up douchebag sitting out in the sun for 30 days. That's a pretty good description of the whiny horror that are the old douchebags, if not accounting for the smell and the non ending complaints.
Well, one of them comes up to me, the only one in the hotel, by the way, holding a half-opened candy bar. SO . . .
Me: Can I help you sir?
Old Man: I went to get a candy bar at the vending machine . . .
Me: (I can see that) so what can I help you with?
Old Man: [visibly frustrated] Well look! This is all hot and melted! A mess!
Me: Uh . . . sir?
Old Man: Listen; what kind of . . . [he goes on a rant about a melted candy bar for five minutes]
Me: ?
Old Man: Well?
Me: What sir?
Old: Well, I want a refund!
That old fvcker wanted a refund and bitched me out. For a melted candy bar. Wow. I just preceeded to tell him that I can't do anything, and he's asking me who's in charge of the vending machines like I need to call him up and send for a technician. For a melted candy bar. Finally he walks away about how lousy this is and all this. And I stand here dumbfounded.
Fvcking great.
