This just happened today. I'm at my local Wally-world (Wal-Mart) dressed in my Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and just not looking anything like an employee of Wal-Mart. I am with my cart, grabbing chips and salsa for a gathering I have this evening. A nice gal of about 5 foot nothing asked me to help her get some chips from the upper shelf (Why is it the shelves for the chips are always empty at this Wal-Mart?) I, being 6'6 get asked often to grab things from the high shelves. I feel for you vertically challenged folks. So I grab the chips and pass them to her. She thanks me and goes on her way. Then it happens. The HUFF! I turn and see her, she says now that you’re done flirting! Where can I find the batteries? I chuckle and say well what kind, she cuts me off and starts clapping WHERE! clap, ARE clap, THE! Clap BATTERIES! Clap. I then say, I'm sorry, you don't need to clap, I don't work here. She cuts me off again and says, don’t have me get your manager!!! WHERE, clap, ARE, clap, THE, Clap Batteries! Now I knew what she was asking, but being that I hate clappers. (It's the rudest form of communication possible.) I say, they are over in the automotive section. Just talk to one of the service techs out there... She storms off. I continue my shopping when about 5 minutes later, I hear the scream. THAT’S NOT WHAT I WANTED!!! WHERE IS THAT @$$H)LE Associate! I start grinning, here it comes. She hunts me down and says, they only have car batteries there!!! I wanted small batteries for electronics. I look at her, I Smile, and then say, YOU! clap WERE clap, NOT clap SPECIFIC! Clap. Her mouth Drops open, She gasps like I just stole all the oxygen from the area. She then says "where is your manager!!!" Now I work remotely for my company, my manage works in a different state. I say to her. Likely in St. Louis. As I tried to tell you lady, I, clap DONT, clap, WORK, clap, HERE!!! I then turn and walk away, While she spews hate and vulgarity in my direction. I am calling it a good day. Don't clap at me. I'm not performing for you.
