I mean, really, who the fuck do you think you are? You’re just fucking saleswomen. You got nothing to do with them fucking designer perfumes and handbags that you sell, artistically or otherwise. All you do is fucking sell ‘em. Anyone could do it. It’s not part of your fucking job to assess whether or not your fucking customers are worth serving: your job is to kiss my fucking ass so that I’ll want to buy that fucking shit that’s gonna help you feed your whining brats and pay for your fucking orange tans and that cake frosting you wear on your face. You don’t have a right to look up and down at me the way you do just because you fucking work at fucking Nordstrom or fucking Macy’s, you fucking dumb fuck. All I want is for you to treat me with some respect—the way you treat your wealthier-looking customers. After all, it’s people like me who pay your fucking salary. You think your fucking boss pays you? Well, where the fuck do you think your fucking boss gets that fucking money he pays you with? Customers like me, you fucking fuckhead! ……… Anyway, thank you so much for reading this. (Would you like a bag?) Have a wonderful day!
Sell it, Girl
The views expressed in these submissions are from anonymous, unverified sources and do not necessarily represent those of the Portland Mercury.