Candidate number one is my co-worker, for passing one whatever evil virus she caught from a niece onto myself and others in the office. The strange coincidence is over half the staff in my company's west coast headquarters is also sick from the same evil virus.
Candidate number two is the unknown personality who damaged the bike lock I will be forced to return to Target tomorrow morning. The lock, a cable combo key lock, was designed so the buyer could reset the combination. However, it appears it can only be reset once and someone did so while it was in the packaging in the store. And set it to 0-0-0-0. Which makes the thing absolutely pointless to use, I might as well leave the bike unattended on the street. And cable locks are very easy to cut, so I will have to purchase something different anyway.
I think I shall go with candidate number three. I'm not feeling well enough to come up with an original and creative name for her[self], so for the sake of clarity I shall call her “Three”. Some context is necessary...
After a marathon dash through Target to purchase the bike lock and stock up on essentials (kitty litter, cat food, paper towels, etc) I stopped in Marshall's to purchase some new gym clothes, as working out in ill-fitting, uncomfortable and/or falling apart togs is not adding any motivation to my gym routine. The checkout counters were full of customers and sparse of cashiers, so I resigned myself to a longish wait to check out.
Lo, a new register opens and I am asked to step over and pay for my new attire. Just as I reach the counter and put my clothes down, Three, who had been standing there watching my progress, announces that she is waiting to return something and she was there first.
Having successfully lost my place in two lines, I shrug, pick the clothes up off the counter and step aside. And wait. And wait some more for Three to approach the register. In the time it took Three to walk five feet I could have paid and been out the door.
Three finally makes it to the register and puts down a jacket. She begins to explain why she was returning the item (“I thought I could get it altered but my tailor said absolutely not...”). The cashier asks her for a receipt. Three does not know where the receipt is, somewhere in her wallet, please wait while she digs around her purse (which I could easily pack a week's worth of clothing into) for her wallet, then dig through hundreds of pieces of paper for the receipt. “I can't find it” she says and continues digging. More time passes. The cashier, in an attempt to marginally speed up the transaction, says that she can give Three store credit. “That's fine, I shop here all the time” Three responds and continues sorting pieces of paper. People who were behind me in the first line have checked out and are leaving the story.
At long last another register is opened right in front of me and I am able to check out.
I probably would have turned to "Three" and said "No you weren't" and just gone ahead with my business. I'm not as nice as you are. ;-)
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