scribble and die!

you know who i really wanna kill?

…people that still use fucking checks!

wait – let me amend that.

for certain business to business transactions i realize they play a vital role in buying time or creating a paper trail or what have you. okay, fine. but for fucking PERSONAL (read: GROCERY STORE) shit? there’s no fucking need!

(and shane, don’t even hit the comments on the “but, bro, you can write it for over the amount a few days before your shit gets deposited and get by…i know this – but it puts you in the same cycle as that evil-ass direct deposit advance that wells fargo did…)

tell me there is something MORE fucking aggravating then your quick trip the store being DOUBLED by little miss no check card having to hand write out her shit…and they never have a pen. and they never know the date. and even though the amount was told to them mere seconds before AND is up on a screen four inches from their face they have to pause and ask the amount…and then ask if they can write it for over…and for how much over…

AAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!

i like milk in the morning. have since i was a kid. on an ideal day, the second taste on my lips should be milk (the first being a woman, but never mind that depressing side of my world now). so yesterday, after losing my self-imposed coin toss as to whether or not i should go to the gym, i had to hit the store as i was out of milk. i go to the express lane and see a woman JUST whipping out her check book. older lady. “this shouldn’t take long”, i think to myself, as most older ladies not only use checks, but have been doing so for years are pretty much pros at it.

bullshit.

FIVE MINUTES LATER she looks up and asks the date. five minutes of straight writing. the filter was burned through…

how many chapters are you hand-scribbling there while the rest of us wait?

blank stare.

she hands the check to the cashier (at this point i should note i DID look at the check as my mom always used to write checks and towards the end, as the cancer began to win the war, her hand writing got really slow and shaky, and i was gonna feel hella bad if her writing looked shaky and i felt like i had rushed some sickly old lady but…NOPE. looked good but not so good i felt she had taken so long to have perfect penmanship…) and rather quickly packs up her purse only for…SURPRISE…it to kick back and need an i.d. check. so now she has to dig in the purse so large (and of the vintage) to probably contain viet cong who still think the war is going on and go spelunking for her PAPER I.D. (read: NO PICTURE). the cashier looks at her, the i.d., the check, and then me and seeing that murderous look in my eye decided to let it slide.

good call.

my one item was scanned before check bitch had even grabbed her bags – as she looked up at me i dangled a five out towards her and exclaimed, “see…i use this stuff called CASH. it works like this…”, and handed it to the cashier who now couldn’t stop giggling, “no date…no i.d. just money for goods and services – what will they think of next, eh?”

i SWEAR i heard the little old lady mumble, “asshole…” as she walked away.

so, to answer a question my buddy evan asked the other day, “who the fuck still uses checks?”

the idiots IN FRONT OF ME at the grocery store…more than half the fucking time!