Keep it positive, ya’ll

Too many to list here, unfortunately

But none more so than the Spic Jedi Mind Trick.

The Force is strong in this one....

Don’t laugh….its not funny.

Its weird, and just plain ol’ creepy.

Come take a walk with me and let me tell you how it usually goes down:

1^st Scenario:

Customer walks in, approaches my cell…er, I mean counter and says “Excuse me, are you guys hiring?”

Valid question, right? No biggie….

I say, “No, I’m sorry. We aren’t.”

End of conversation, you would think, right?

Negative.

They say, “Are you sure? Not even a part time? I used to work the register at so and so place for x amount of time. I have experience.”

Ok.

You’re persistent. Can’t blame you for that. Times are rough. It’s admirable to see someone in a position of need trying to do something about it.  That’s cool.

I say, “Again, no, we aren’t. I’m sorry, but good luck on your search.”

NOW, the conversation is over……..right?

Double negative.

Customer: *blank stare*

At this point, I turn my attention to the PAYING customer in front of me. But I finish up, turn around and….

**blank stare**

Why are you still standing there? Staring at me?

I’m feeling uncomfortable.

So trying to break the tension that they’re causing, I say, “Can I help you with anything else?”

Customer: * blank stare mixed in with creepy, pedophile like puppy dog eyes*

This goes on for about another 2 minutes. Usually till I walk away.

WTF?!?!?

Is you looking at me like you want to lather me in peanut butter and eat me supposed to make change my mind and offer you a job??

If anything, you’ve only accomplished me making a mental note about you being a weirdo.

I wish it ended there. Read on….

Scenario numero dos:

Customer: “How much are your Bronco cigarettes?”

Me: “ 4 dollars”

Customer: “4 dollars?!?! Wow that’s expensive!”

Mind you, that’s average price in my neighborhood

Me: “So, you want them?”

Customer: * blank stare *

Again, I turn away to attend to PAYING customers, but turn around, and there they are…just staring at me……sometimes even sticking their tongue out saying “halabaooooooo” (apparently, that’s some strange Cuban custom thing they do when they’re shocked, surprised, etc.,etc.,)

I turn back, and BAM!

*sigh*

Still there.

Still staring.

Still creepy.

What, on Gods beautiful, Green Earth, are you waiting for!?!?!?

I’m not dropping the price!

This isn’t a negotiation.

You’re not haggling the price of a car.

There’s no wiggle room.

Either you got the money and pay for it…..or you don’t.

You don’t pull this shit at Walgreens or any other big retailer.

Why are you doing this here?

Why are you making me think you want to something more than cigarettes?

If yall are trying to change my mind through osmosis and some technique you saw in an old George Lucas flick, it aint working…..

All its doing is making me reach and check if my pepper spray is full and ready to go…..

Why wont you just take yo ass home already??

You’ve been here, at my store for 3 **fucking** hours now….

Playing scratch offs incessantly.

The Baine of my exsitance

Your fingers look like you were playing with ash.

Black and nasty…..you have “scratch off dust” under your fingernails.

You are cock blocking me from doing ANYTHING AT ALL…..

I cant even go piss, because everytime I turn to walk away….there you are…with that dumb smirk on ya face.

“Dame otro de el mismo……..Lemme get another…same one”

God in heaven FORBID that Im actually tending to another customer, or dealing with a vendor and you have to wait 30 whole seconds for me to give you another ticket. Cause then Scratchy McScratch Scratch gets impatient….starts sighing loudly…..tapping on the counter.

I let it slide the first time.

Second time, youll get the Steven Segal “Above The Law…Im gonna make your arm bend where its not supposed to” Look.

They usually stop being obnoxious after that.

But they sure as hell keep on scratchin’!!!

And as soon as I think they’re done…..They’re gone out the door….I turn to go into my office, and BAM!!

“Dame otro….“

Sugars….

I thought I was free. I thought you left?? Don’t you have something better to do? Work? Feed your kids? Take a bath? Read the newspaper? Make love to your wife? Ponder the meaning of life and all of it’s intricacies??

Of course you don’t….you rather be here…pissing away your paycheck, hoping to hit paydirt. And in turn, you’re driving me insane.

Why don’t you buy a stack of scratch offs, go home and drive yourself crazy in the confines of your roach infested duplex.

I hate you, Scratch off Junkies. And I hate the Florida lottery for devising this archaic, cruel way to part debilitating gamblers with their monies….

“…….How many Insta-Bingo’s you wanted again?”

Just a day in the life…..

The Aftermath

So, I’ve decided to expand my topics. Going forward, I will not only write about the bodega, but my life in general. And in all honesty, me writing about my life outside of the bodega will still be about the bodega. My store affects every aspect of my life, so it’s only right that I share everything.

So, sit back, relax….grab that fifth of Hennessy, blunt, crack pipe, whatever….and enjoy.

You’re in for a wild ride…….welcome to my life…..

You name it; I’ve pretty much seen and been through it. You develop a thick skin after so many years in the proverbial *trenches*.

But the things I’ve seen at the bodega trump all.

The things that people (and I use that term lightly) do when they come in here are incredible.

So much so that nothing shocks or surprises me anymore.

An 80yr old, butt necked Cuban lady could ride in on Poncho, the mythical Sea Unicorn, while playing the Bongos and singing a Salsa version of “God Save the Queen”, and I wouldn’t even flinch

Don’t get me started on the crack heads

In order to try and restore peace and a sense of civility to my Bodegadom, I’ve come up with a few rules…..

Bodega etiquette, if you will

I’m constantly adding new ones; instead of listing all of them, Ill just post a few random ones up, in no particular order.

Read on:

Bodega Rule# 56: There is such a thing as a “line”. Please wait your turn. I don’t care if you do have exact change, and you left a batch of crystal meth on the stove unattended. Or if your brood of ankle biters are waiting for you in your hot-ass, no A/C having turd mobile. I will NOT let you skip the line.  And don’t think because you’re screaming that Ill take care of you faster….all that might get you is threatened with physical violence.

Bodega Rule# 179: Last I checked, this is NOT a strip club (Although I have thought about trying to get my cashiers to strip for customers). When exchanging money, common courtesy dictates that it should be done hand to hand. If possible human contact makes you uneasy, then its ok to PLACE it on the counter. Under no circumstances are you to throw money at me. If that dollar bill you just flicked lands in my café con leche or my lunch. Run…..Swiftly. Like the wind.

Bodega Rule#180: Is it really necessary to lick your finger to count your money, and then hand over said money with all your slobber on it? As if money doesn’t have enough germs and bacteria on it.

Bodega Rule #3: Please control/police/subdue your children. This isn’t a Zoo, and it damn sure isn’t a Relay 100m race. If you don’t tell ‘em something, I will. Usually after I trip them by throwing a can of Goya Frijoles Rojo at their feet.

Bodega Rule #68: Put a shirt on before coming in to my establishment.  I know that you must be so proud of the beer belly you’ve attained from all those Natural Ice’s you’ve consumed over the years, buddy….but don’t nobody wanna see that….not even your wife. Ladies, feel free to disregard this one….

Bodega Rule# 16: The Lotto machine is NOT a miracle worker….Nor will it mess up and pay out on a losing ticket. If you know, for a fact, that your numbers didn’t hit…..please do not ask me to check ‘em…….cause I wont. I’ll just give you a shitface and remain silent until you move along.

Bodega Rule# 5: Please don’t stand in front of my register, silent and expect for me to know what you want. I’m not Prof. Charles Xavier…I cant read your mind. Just because I seem like I’m interested in all the crap you spew, doesn’t mean I’m actually listening. Its called customer service. And don’t do that “point at shit with your lips….duck face” thing. …**shudders** Which is okay if you’re a decent looking female, with no visible herpes scars on your lips…..but its just outright freaky when a dude does it. Just tell me what cigarettes you want so you can be on your merry way. No need to drag this out…

Bodega Rule #1: NO SHOPLIFTING. We don’t call the cops on you round these parts. We just put foot to ass. You’ve been warned…….

I hope you all heed these rules when visiting not just my bodega…..but any bodega, or place of business. Itll make for a more enjoyable shopping experience.

Thank you all……

Thats what.

Allow me clarify a few things before I get into what happened recently at the bodega. I deplore violence. Nothing good ever comes from it. I personally feel that anything….well, almost anything……can be talked out without it ever having it escalating to the point of physical confrontation.

In my younger years, I was a hot head with a very short fuse. I was quick to take a swing at someone if I even felt slightly “disrespected”. And Baby Jesus forbid you got smart with one of my friends…especially if they were females. It was ON and POPPING! Anyone who’s known me for a long enough time can attest to this.

But in recent years, as I’ve grown and matured, I’ve shied away from fighting. I can talk a very good game, and Ive learned to use that skill to diffuse many potential situations that would’ve led to fisticuffs…..or worse…..

Unfortunately…..there are still a few things that set me off the deep end.

One of those things being shoplifters.

The main reason being, of course, is because they’re taking money out of my pocket. That bottle of lemon-lime gatorade didn’t just buy itself, you know. The other reason is that they insult my intelligence.

How, you ask?

By lying to me when I catch them. And I ALWAYS catch them (at least Id like to think so….). They lie to me…..in my face….and swear on everything they hold dear in life. They swear on God, Jehovah, Allah, Jesus, The Virgin Mary and Rodney Dangerfield that they didn’t steal anything……..knowing damn well they have a bottle of MD 20/20, a bag of chips, and a bottle of palmolive down their pants……

*sigh*

Okay, I’ll get to the meat and potatoes of it. Heres how it all went down:

Yesterday, mid afternoon, the after work rush is in full effect. People who are just getting out of work are picking up groceries for dinner. I have about 3 deliveries coming in at the same time, with a line at the Lotto machine, another at the register, and my new cashier asking me how much a 10lbs bag of rice costs…..when I spot a dude just standing by the front door…..looking around….adjusting his pants. Suspicious? Very. But I didn’t actually see him do anything, so I turn my attention back to the customer in front of me, who for some odd reason, can’t grasp how the lotto pay outs work. Nevermind she’s been playing her numbers since Biblical times.

I brush off my gut feeling that buddy probably had something in his pants. I go about my business.

Then a regular comes to me and tells me to watch out for that guy (points at suspicious man by the door). Apparently, he’s well-known in the ‘hood to be a thief and a shoplifter.

*double sigh* here we go…..

I thank my regular customer, than proceed to go outside to see if “suspicious man” is still on the premises.

He is. I act like I’m looking for someone, than rush back inside to check the footage on my security camera ( a must in the hood!). And since Murphy’s Law is ALWAYS in effect when it comes to me (“Anything that can go wrong will go wrong”), the mouse that’s connected to the security systems PC isn’t working! I replace the batteries, and the PC freezes!!

I proceed to channel Charlie Brown: “AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGH!!!!!”

OK….PC starts cooperating…..I start going back, and BINGO!

Money.

I see “Suspicious Man” stuffing a bottle of wine down his pants. But by this time, about 5 minutes have passed. More than enough time for him to make his get away. So I run outside, hoping to catch him still standing outside, smoking his cigarette….basking in the glory of his successful boost.

No luck.

Instead, he’s riding his proverbial horse (in this case, a bike. Probably stolen) off into the sunset, really, really, REALLY slow. So I run up behind him, grab him by the neck, and knock him off his bike.

Its Go time…….

I back up. Dude is about 6’3″, in his forties, and looks as healthy as a shoplifting crackhead could…..but Im still cautious.

“What if he pulls out a shank?”

Fuck it. I grab him by the neck and ask him where’s the bottle of wine he stole. He denies stealing anything. He then starts swearing to God (surprise, surprise) that he didn’t take anything. I begin to search his pockets.

Nothing.

Shit! I SAW HIM!! Where the h-e- double hockey sticks is that bottle of wine?!?!?!?!

I then turn my attention to the bag he dropped when I yanked him off his bike, sitting in a pool of cheap red wine. I look at him, ask him whats that…….

He stutters…..

I kick the bag to reveal a broken bottle of wine.

Glorious Day.

I ask him AGAIN.

He says nothing.

So what do I do?

Cock back my right hand, and unleash the most humiliating slap that’s been administered since Mary J Blige caught Kendu slipping.

He damn near came out his shoes. Got back up quick….looked at me, and apologized.

An apology?

Really?

I looked him dead in the eyes……pointed at his head the way “The Rock” used to back in his WWE days, and proceeded to threaten his life if I EVER saw him even walking in front of my store.

I turned around…..walked back to my store. He picked up his bike, and whatever was left of his pride, and rode off……..

All in a day’s work, I guess.

*How many Lotto’s and scratch off’s did you say you wanted?*

Is it REALLY that important?

*Sigh*

Never thought I would see this day come. Not in a million years. I never thought that one would have to resort to posting such a crude sign on the bathroom door JUST so I wouldn’t be disturbed when I’m “chunking a duece”…..”sending a fax”…….”sitting on the throne”…..”hablando con Mistoyca (Mistoycagando, that is)”.

But thats what its come to.

It’s bad enough that I havent been able to eat a hot meal in about seven years because I’m too busy taking care of customers. Baby Jesus forbid I *attempt* to try and have a conversation over the phone while I’m at work without any interruptions…….

But I’m cool with that. I understand that my profession requires certain sacrifices from me. And I’m more than willing to concede certain luxuries such as eating a hot meal. But my bathroom time!?!??!

NO.

HELL NO.

I don’t know about ya’ll….but my toilet time is sacred. Dropping the “kids” off at the pool is one of the few times I have to just relax. Unwind. Think about things. Rehearse my good guy routine for my customers. Plan out the rest of my day. Think about what I’m gonna have for dinner, or even read a good comic book. But when I have these wild ass, no manner having customers screaming my name at the top of their lungs…..KNOCKING (yes knocking) on the bathroom door WHILE I’m trying to wipe my ass?!?!

And for what?

To ask if you can get a beer and some cigarettes on credit? To see if I can please ring you up at the other register because your in a rush?!?!

Really?

You KNOW DAMN WELL I am NOT gonna give you any credit. Especially if I gotta get up off the toilet just so you can ask me. And I have no problem ringing you up if your in a rush…but honestly, I am NOT getting up off the toilet with a shitty ass to ring you up. I’d rather you NOT buy anything and just go to the bodega down the street.

I even had a dude that had the audacity to knock on the door and tell ME to hurry up because he had to take a piss. And don’t even get me started about the time I had a guy screaming my name at the top of his lungs and knock on the door just because he wanted to say “hi”.

*double SIGH*

I wonder if this happens in grocery stores that are in good neighborhoods. Of course it doesn’t……

Only in my bodega……

I apologize for my extended absence, but a bodeguero has been busy as of late. Starting in mid

November, and running through end of December, its like an insane asylum here……which is excellent for business, but doesn’t really leave much time for anything else.

But fear ye not…….I will be back in full effect next week. Firing on all cylinders and what have you.

Thank you all for your patronage. And as Jenna Jameson would say……”Come again!”

Enter the homie B.YONEST, hailing from Columbus, OH. With sharp, witty rhymes and a descriptive flow, B paints pictures with his words, and draws you in to his world to the point where you can actually visualize what he’s saying. “Dear Love” is a perfect example. Produced by one of the most versatile and talented producers in the game, Sha’ul (www.shaulmusic.com), B.YONEST shares with us an open letter to love and relationships. This is the type of music we need more of in the mainstream. Check it out for yourselves……

DEAR LOVE – B.YONEST by LETZBYONEST
Enjoy….

Pardon me for a minute…..I just threw up in my mouth a bit……

There is nothing, and I mean NOTHING, in this world that gives me the willies more than being handed cash….by a hooker…..from her bra…..that’s soaked in bodily fluids.
There goes my breakfast…….
I don’t think I can accurately describe the feeling that comes over me when I’m handed the wet, nasty, soggy bills. It’s kinda like a cross between the time you accidentally walked in on your Grandmother while she was getting dressed, and the “Barf-o-rama” scene from “Stand by me”.

Yeah…I think that’s about right.
Why can’t they keep their money in a Ziploc bag or something? Why must they keep it somewhere someone just licked, kissed, sucked or stuck? I need to keep some forceps and surgical gloves by the register for those gag inducing moments. Or maybe I can come up with some sort of “Hooker Bill dryer & sanitizer”. All I know is that I cant keep washing my hands with Clorox and ammonia every single time I ring up Betty Blowjob for a bottle of Listerine.
Maybe its time I start exploring alternate forms of payment from them……