My job. It needs a rant. My stockroom is packed with delivery that my useless collegue couldn't be assed to put away yesterday despite having 3 hours with nothing to do. Some stupid bitch asked me for a size 5. I scrambled over several boxes, bashed my head, scraped my hip, and had to move a whopping great ladder down an aisle that's too small to fit it in to get her these bloody size 5's. I get out and she goes "Oh well they won't fit, they're too small". She didn't even try them on. She just had it in her head they wouldn't fit. So I then had to repeat the above process to get her a size 6 and a size 7. In the end, the 5's were fine, and I now have epic bruises all over me. She then wanted a new pair of 5's because the ones she eventually tried on had the tiniest ever dot on the back of the heel. I was fuming. And the whole time I had to be polite and plaster a twatty great smile on my face. And when I got back to her with the shoes in the box she says "Well done dear" and goes to pay. I can honestly say I wanted to stab the shoes through her eyeball and get all the children that were slobbering over the mirrors and leaving scabby gob marks to dance on her face.
Ok I'm done.