On days when unicorns are galloping across a rainbow and dropping tiny nuggets of gold into your lap, you make unicorn lemonade – such as with the above gem.
A friend who works for a mall management company, sent this to me and we both wondered if the person who emailed this to them is a special snowflake.
He appears to be a full-grown adult because he’s using, what I would assume, his own money to purchase jeans. But to be so grossed out by someone’s breath, really? Have you never took a whiff of your own shit before? I would say the smell of poop is worse than bad breath.
And what exactly do you want the mall management team to do? Hand out breath mints to the store’s employees? The mall has zero control over who the store’s hire. And dude, perhaps first contact the actual store and deal with it head on if it bothers you that much.
You don’t actually give any descriptors to identify this employee. You weakly call someone out and expect what in return exactly? If you already know the pair of jeans you want, go into the store, and if the employee who helped you is there, find another employee to work with you. If there isn’t another one, tell the employee the jeans you want, pay for it, and be on your way. The whole transaction could take less than 10 minutes.
Is bad breath that scary to you that you need to travel somewhere else for the pair of jeans you want?
I got asked this question last week when I was washing my bowl in the communal kitchen after having lunch. The question took me by surprise because it was unprompted without any of the typical superficial pre conversation like “How’s your week going? or Did you know Janet from Finance called in sick again in two weeks. Somebody’s getting F-I-R-E-D” and its ilk. So excuse me when it took me a long 10 seconds and a confused blank stare to reply. The exchange went something like this:
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