ARROGANCE INCARNATE!

**Warning: The following blog may contain high level coarse language and depictions of violence.**
Some of the facts to this story may also have been twisted by rage. Where memory serves correctly, the truth is told...

I've worked at Burnside Village for about two and a half years now. I've put up with a lot from customers and I do often go out of my way to help them as much as possible. I'm a patient man and very accomodating. Heck, in this kinda line of work in this kinda area, one has to be. One has to remember that one is in the one and only Burnside Village after all (reputed to have the highest land value per square metre in Australia! Or something like that anyway!).

But on Saturday the 3rd of June 2006, I met the single most arrogant son-of-a-bitch in my life!
The time was 4:30pm, only half an hour from closing time.
In strides a gentleman (i utilise this term very loosely) who appears to be around 50 and quite well off. Nice leather jacket, heavy gold chain and what appears to be a gold Rolex upon his wrist.
I ask "sir" if I can be of assistance. He's looking for some plates. From his initial verbal descriptions and hand gestures I think he means some kind of platters. But eventually he shapes his words into something more articulate to convey that he requires Maxwell & Williams Rim Pasta 30cm Plates.
These are nice plates. I cream myself when I hold one in my hand.
The kinda plates you eat pasta out of at decent restaurants.
They can be quite popular with customers looking to impress guests at their next dinner party.
And he's obviously looking to impress. He says something about lamb shanks will look great on these plates. So would his head...

He's after 10.
They cost $9.95 each. So I'm looking toward a $99.50 sale which would be a nice way to finish the day.
We only have five on the shelf and I offer to have a look out the back for some more.
At this stage he seems like a fairly average customer. Fuck me was I ever wrong!

There are no more out the back.
He's unimpressed. Bite me! See if I care!
I tell him that our North Adelaide store possibly has some more.
His response: "I buy things. I don't hunt things."
I pause at this comment. I think I initially didn't understand what he meant.
Then it dawned on me: he's a lazy, arrogant bitch.

I say to him: "If it's more convenient, I can have them sent down here."
He tells me (tells, not asks) to call them and check whilst he puts his shopping in the car.
He also mentions that if he can't get them here, he'll go somewhere else and buy them. Good riddance and good luck on a Saturday at closing time fucker!

My blood has started to boil.
I can't tolerate people who think they're above others just because they've got money. Especially the ones who act like this.
The boss happens to be around and I quickly explain the situation and how pissed off I am.
I also ask that even if North Adelaide has more of these plates, if I can tell the arrogant prick that we don't have any. She says I can do what I want, but if necessary, she'll pay the girls to stay open 15 minutes longer so he can pick them up.

I call our North Adelaide store.
Bev informs me that they have 10 on the shelf and maybe more out the back. I explain and tell her I'll call her back if need be.
The prick walks back into the store.
I tell him that N.A. has 10 plates and that they're willing to stay open for an extra 15 minutes, just for him.
His response: "Get them here by tomorrow or I can just go somewhere else and buy them." He walks off to the back section of the store. Hope he trips on a mortar and pestle and cracks his head open.
Our N.A. store isn't open on Sundays, and nobody is going to be willing in the mean time to bring 10 plates across.

Something has snapped in my head at this stage and I'm seeing red.
Luckily before I can throw something at him a lady walks up the counter with some cups.
I greet politely and put her items thru the till.
King Dick saunters back to the counter with an 11L stock pot ($119.95) and plonks it down next to the five pasta plates.
"So what's happening about these plates?" he questions.
"Either you can pick them up now from N.A. or the earliest they'll be here is Monday morning. That's the best I can do," I reply with a forced smile.

Without saying a word, he walks out of the store...

I'm flabbergasted.
The lady I'm in the middle of serving looks at me quite shocked.
I think I muttered to her: "What an arrogant - `scuse my language - bastard."
She asks if I could wrap some tissue around the cups for her as they're for a present.
I tell her that I'd do anything cos compared to him she's the brightest ray of sunshine at present!
Once she'd left I ranted and raved to the other staff and called N.A. and told them that if he does turn up to tell him that a customer had just bought the entire lot.

I couldn't give a flying fuck if I'd just lost a sale for over $200. I didn't want his dirty cash anyway.
I was thinking of describing ways to torture him (ie. stick his Rolex down his throat and garrot him with his gold chain) but that would equal premeditation and we wouldn't want that if his body ended up floating down the Torrens one day would we now... :)