A recent visit by my boyfriend, Devyn, to the Osco at 2 North Riverside Plaza, the Osco with the dubious honor of having worse customer service than the location at State and Adams, did not go well. Exasperated at waiting for Shaneequa (the teenage clerk whose name I’ve changed to protect the stupid) to finish her non-work-related conversation with her coworkers, Devyn took it upon himself to swipe his Osco card across the barcode reader. This definitely got Shaneequa’s attention as she wheeled around and yelled, “Oh, no you didn’t! Do you work for Osco? Are you wearing a blue smock?”
Devyn’s conversation with the store manager later in the day was enough to bitch-slap the customer-service recalcitrant clerk back to the rigors of retail reality. But hearing the story started me wondering what my reaction would have been in the same situation.
Now let’s get one thing straight. I am an evil bitch. Not just a bitch. Not just evil. But an evil bitch. We’re a small but tight group of people scattered around the world who feel no compunction about speaking our minds directly, bluntly, and frankly. We make no apologies for being ourselves, never edit our words for the misplaced sake of social peace or amity, and pointedly do not suffer fools gladly. As you might imagine, small talk completely eludes us. We’re also prone to seeking vengeance at all costs, like vindictive Energizer Bunnies, only not as cuddly.
Chicago Carless reader and fellow evil bitch Chad Fox provides a great (and cautionary) introduction to evil bitchdom on his San Francisco-based blog, Stop Touching My Food. I admire his honesty about his motives. He also provides a dangerous little third-party “test of evil“. My results:
You are 80% Evil
You are very evil. And you’re too evil to care. Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.
Sounds about right to me. I offer my evil test results not just to back up my self-identification as an evil bitch, but also to offer a reason to believe me when I offer my own personal response for situations like the one Devyn experienced with Shaneequa. It’s frank. It’s direct. It’s to the point. It’s in all probability likely to be resoundingly true. And in order to save everyone, but mostly myself, time and effort in the future, I offer it here, just once (for there’s nothing an evil bitch likes less than having to repeat something). Those concerned may wish to write it down and refer to it later as needed. Here goes.
To all of the Osco diva, shrinking violet, customer-service inept, slowpoke pedestrian, idiot non-savant, feigned insulted, and otherwise whingy whiny individuals whom I have encountered in the past, met with today, and may cross paths with in years to come, and who, when taken aback by something they have heard come out of my mouth, rear themselves up and respond to me with that time honored urban-American phrase of indignity, “Oh, no you didn’t!”, trust me on this.
Oh. Honey. Yes, I did.