Monday, December 16, 2002


I had an eight till one shift yesterday (Sunday), right? And I was all tired and hungover and generally out of it. During the course of the morning a couple of people seperately told me that I'd given them the wrong change, that they'd given me a note of x denimination and had recieved change for a note of y denomination, with x being less than y. They were shirty and aggressive about it; there was much irritable brandishing of change and a general suggestion that yours truly was a little reduced in the hat department. So I gave them the damn money.

I gave them the damn money because they acted like they should have it. I gave them the damn money because they leaned in over the counter, because they barged and pushed and held up the queue, because they talked to me like an idiot and that made me feel like an idiot so I assumed that they were right and I was wrong.

You'd think I'd never seen a David Mamet film, wouldn't you?

This morning, my supervisor told me that the till from yesterday was short. We looked everywhere, but there was no sign of the money. Which means that those guys from yesterday pulled a scam. Ordinarily it wouldn't have worked-- ordinarity I'd have rung for the supervisorand had her come and check my till to see if it was over what it should be. Ordinarily. But it was Sunday, I hadn't had enough sleep, the shop was busy, and I fell for it.

Now, I don't know if you know this but when you pull a scam like that, the loss is not painlessly absorbed by the Corporate Entity that you have so boldy robbed. The money comes out of the member of staff's wages. In this case, mine.

I don't know who I'm more fucked off with, the con-artists or myself. The moral of this story, kiddies? Never let anyone intimidate you into doing anything. Trust your own judgement.

(Oh, and never rip off a mage with a foul temper...)

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