So my temp cashier, the one who's an out-of-work real estate attorney, the one with a kid, the one who won't apply two coupons that clearly state they can't be combined, tells the berating son-of-a-gun that the coupon isn't deceptive, that he's a lawyer too, but that if he wants a third opinion, it just so happens that his head cashier and manager is also a lawyer.

So I head on over.

Agree with my colleague and temp cashier (who is my hero for pulling this move in the first place).

Smile at said cheap bastard customer.

I wish the apoplectic but now-silent son-of-a-gun a merry christmas, finish ringing him out, and move on to the next customer.

That section of the line did not argue any further about trying to combine coupons.  In fact, they all looked very afraid.

Also, the cookies and toffee were a hit with my coworkers.

(Work actually wasn't that bad, and we were done by 7 o'clock.)

Merry Christmas to all.

Yep.  Workin' Christmas Eve.

But that's okay.  You know why?

I baked.  Cookies.  Lots of 'em.  I made butter cookies with raspberry jam filling and frosting.  And chocolatey cookies sprinkled with salt from Barbara Lynch's cookbook Stir.  (Run, don't walk, make these cookies.)  And the best fucking toffee you will ever eat, ever. 

That's right-- recipe links.  In case you needed some last minute projects.

Bring on the holiday douchebag shoppers.  I have sugar.  And a rockin' red $4.97 long-sleeved snowman tee-shirt with rainbow-colored spangles I picked up at Sears, because I told everyone at work I would bake if everyone wore Weasley sweaters or ugly, sparkly holiday gear.  I'ma gonna wear it with my denim skirt and my festive red clogs.

I might even bust out the antler headband.  It's Christmas.  Magic might happen.

Wish me luck.  And lots of hassle-free returns.


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