Last week one of the other fruit truck girls got fired for being really bad at a really easy job (and I think she was selling drugs out of the place), and now I spend 30-40 hours per week running the Confederation stand. Sure, it has its upsides: toilets appearing in the parking lot, visits from former coworkers (and their hot wife) and future sister-in-laws and the Canadian Tire employees are super friendly, but overall, people in this end of the city seem to fall mostly into two categories: bitches and freaks.
Let’s see if any among us are bitches with a short quiz:
Baby potatoes for sale! What is your first thought?
a) Ooo! Cute and delicious!
b) No thought/indifference
c)"*scoff* Those are the potatoes that I don’t even bother to bend down and dig out of my garden because I’m a bitchy fat ass.
Ok, that might have been a giveaway.
2) Now that you’ve chosen your thought regarding baby potatoes, what is your next action:
a) Inquire to the gorgeous fruit stand girl regarding the price.
b) Say nothing and continue on your way.
c) Immediately vocalize your thought and assume everyone in the near vicinity gives a shit.
a) Sample enthusiastically and comment (truthfully) on their deliciousness
b) Politely decline and go about your business
c) Sample one, make the ugliest, most contorted and disturbing “disgusted” face, spit out the cherry and make a scene, claiming, “These are TERRIBLE! I’ve never tasted such an AWFUL cherry. I would never spend ANY amount of money on these!” And THEN, hang back and advise others against purchasing the fruit, all the while exclaiming “I used to live in BC, and I would know—these are not good cherries.”
If you answered c) in two or more questions, you are a rank bitch and should probably consider moving to Confederation Park. And just so everyone knows, our cherries are fucking delicious, and yes, this was an actual customer I had on the Monday from hell.
Another entertaining group of residents in the area are the freaks. There are many, and before everyone starts thinking “what an elitist bitch” just let me put this into perspective: I rode the BUS to Confederation, so I really do get to see the cream of the crop. Like I said to D-dub, when I say shit is sketchy, keep in mind that I lived in a third world country, fraternized with prostitutes and saw more than one incidence of leprosy. Besides, is it really elitist to expect people in Canada to shower regularly and interact with others politely and with even an OUNCE of class? I didn’t think so. Anyway, things in Confederation (particularly on the bus) are sketchy.
I’m mostly referring to the jobless/toothless alcoholics, and the eccentric and limping people that I can only assume suffered a recent stroke. And of course it wouldn’t be a west side story if there was not at least one mention of the Original Canadians.
A few of the Original Canadians happened by my stand, and the lady at the back of the group just looked over and yelled, “Hey there beautiful gorgeous!” Then a while later, a younger OC on his BMX rode by, exclaiming, “I LOVE CHERRIES!!!!!!!!!!!!”
My other issue with working in this stand is and its clientele is how unrelentingly CHEAP these people are. Multiple times per day people ask me, “Why is it so expensive?” as if I make the fucking prices. My only response is: “because it’s good.” But we do have a good deal going on: we sell our corn on the cob for $5/dozen. This is for one reason, and one reason only: There is a competing “CHERRIES” stand a few hundred meters away in the Superstore parking lot. They sell their corn for $10/dozen and my boss, being awesome and awesomely spiteful, insists on selling ours for not just less, but HALF their price, simply because he hates them. Sure, we lose money on it (which I’m sure we make up elsewhere), but he pisses off the people in the other stand. And he loves that, and I do too. But then with such a great deal, I get some real winners coming to buy dozens upon dozens of corn, and then shitting a brick over the price of everything else. Unpleasant interactions ensue, and each customers’ whining about our prices makes me increasingly bitter and intolerant, which just keeps building and building. I expect that one day I will inevitably get into a yelling match with a particularly deserving customer, and it will probably be quite embarrassing for everyone involved. Rest assured, when that happens, it will be immediately blogged about. Look forward to that.
Anyway, to top off the Monday of all Mondays, people in this area of the city assume that all things are a drive thru. A car stops on the road to yell questions at me, and all I wanted to reply was “This isn’t a fucking drive thru, get your fat ass out of your car and come talk to me like a civilized human being!” But of course I don’t yell that, because, being on the west side, I know two things:
Being a civilized human being is not on their agenda, and beating a small, smart-ass white girl very well might be.