I've received complaints that I haven't written about Bottom Dollar Food in Jerks of the Week for a long time. I can offer two explanations for this.
The first is that I quite simply haven't shopped there in a while. I discussed this earlier, but because Bottom Dollar didn't sell Cocoa Puffs, I opted to go to Acme instead. I have no idea why Bottom Dollar failed to stock the greatest cereal mankind has ever tasted. I have to imagine that the President of Bottom Dollar, none other than Kim Jong-un, had a say in this...
Kim Jong-un: I very tired WarterFootbarr.com! He arways make a fun of me! I rearry need to ruin Warter's rife! How I can accomprish this!?
Friend Kim Jong-un Pays For: I was reading that site, and he said that he loves Cocoa Puffs.
Kim Jong-un: Of course Warter Footbarr rove a Cocoa Puff! Cocoa Puff greatest cerear in worrd!
Friend Kim Jong-un Pays For: Well, why don't you stop selling Cocoa Puffs at Bottom Dollar so that Walt has to drive to a supermarket instead of walking to yours?
Kim Jong-un: Oh, I make such a great idea! Warter no going to be abre to wark to Bottom Dorrar anymore! I so smart and make such great idea!
The second is that Bottom Dollar has closed. That's right - it's gone. I got the news when my editor messaged me on G-chat one day. Even though I didn't shop there anymore, I was kind of upset. Bottom Dollar had given me so many jerks dating back to when it first opened in 2011, so I always thought of it as a special place. And by "special," I mean the kind of "special" parents call their glue-eating child.
With that in mind, I'm going to say goodbye to Bottom Dollar in a two-part entry. This first part is a Jerks of the Week write-up that I compiled about almost two years ago but never published because other things took precedent. The second part will be notes I took during my visits to Bottom Dollar that I never wrote about. I don't really remember what my notes are; all I know is that I have them written down in a Word document, so I'm just going to wing it.
For now though, please enjoy this article that I wrote in May 2013, which includes some disgusting people, my incompetence, and a farewell to Somewhat Cute Cashier...
1. Money Runs and Somewhat Cute Cashier
I've been asked about Somewhat Cute Cashier. I actually haven't seen her for a while. She worked at the store during the summer, but disappeared just as the season changed. She either quit or went back to college.
Unfortunately, she was the only attractive cashier at Bottom Dollar, aside from Butter Face Cashier, whom I only saw once. The ones who are left are older people and fat chicks.
I personally think this is terrible, and I wouldn't be surprised if Bottom Dollar shuts down as a consequence (Editor's Note: Holy crap, how prophetic am I?) I've discussed this in the past, but if I owned a store or restaurant, I would hire only attractive females. Men are more likely to go to a place of business if there are hot women there. If, for example, Bottom Dollar hired good-looking women to man all of their registers, I, as well as other non-heterosexually challenged men, would find some excuse to go there multiple times per week. Conversely, I have no desire to see a 65-year-old mustachioed man who reeks of cat urine - I see/smell him at Bottom Dollar all the time - so I won't go out of my way to shop at Bottom Dollar if I know he's working there.
I actually got Somewhat Cute Cashier to laugh at something I said the last time I saw her - sometime in the middle of May - but this story has to begin with an event that occurred about a month before that.
I went to Bottom Dollar on a random day in April. I collected my usual items - milk, juice, chips, soda, healthy snacks like Oreos - into my cart and made my way to the register. A chubby Indian girl was working there. She scanned my items and read my total. I reached into my pocket, and my heart sank. There was no money. I forgot it at home!
"Umm... I... uhh... forgot my money in the car," I stammered.
"No problem, I'll just keep everything here until you come back," she answered.
I obviously didn't drive there because it's actually quicker to walk around the corner, but I didn't want to explain that I was going back to my house. That's what I did though, as I sprinted back home. Being a fat man, this was extremely difficult. Though it was just a 90-second run, my heart pounded as I reached my front door. I felt like I was going to vomit all over my floor, but I held it in, went upstairs and grabbed some cash.
I then raced down the stairs and sprinted back to Bottom Dollar, where I nearly passed out onto the ground. A plump woman in her 50s noticed that I perhaps looked a bit sick.
Plump Woman: Are you OK? You don't look so hot.
Me: I dunno... I... I ran for like three minutes...
Plump Woman looked at me strangely and then went about her business. Meanwhile, I went back to the register and stood behind some people, who seemed to wonder why I was waiting in line with nothing in my hands.
When it was my turn, I noticed that none of the items I brought to the register the first time were there anymore.
Me: Hey, I have my money. Where are the things I was trying to buy?
Chubby Indian Cashier: Oh, we put them away because you were gone for so long.
Me: I wasn't gone for that long! It was like five minutes!
Chubby Indian Cashier: More like 10. You shouldn't take that long to go to your car, sir, so we put all of your things away because we assumed you weren't coming back.
Ugh. I went back and recollected everything. I was probably missing something because I forgot what I placed into my shopping cart the first time. I eventually went back to Chubby Indian Cashier, who scanned everything and read the total. I reached into my pocket, and my heart sank. There was no money! I could've sworn I placed some into my pocket, but maybe I didn't... was I losing my mind?
Me: Wait, I don't have any money again! Where'd it go? Did I drop it?
Chubby Indian Cashier: Are you sure you can buy these items, sir?
Me: Yes! I had money! I don't know where it went!
Chubby Indian Cashier: Did you try the pocket in your hoodie, sir?
My hoodie! That's right, I was wearing a hoodie! I reached in and found my money. Hooray!
I handed the appropriate cash to her, commenting, "That's pretty funny, I would've had to run back to my house, I mean car again!"
Chubby Indian Cashier simply shook her head and handed me my change.
So, what does this have to do with Somewhat Cute Cashier? Well, when I saw her in May, I mentioned that I hadn't seen her in a while. She didn't say anything in return, only going "hmph" to me. I hate when women send you mixed signals. Just come out and say how you really feel!
Somewhat Cute Cashier read the total to me. I reached into my pocket, and my heart sank yet again. No money! I had to run back to my house once more. I didn't have a hoodie this time, so I knew the cash was in my pocket when I returned back to Bottom Dollar. I handed it to her and told her how this was the second time I did this in a span of about five weeks. She laughed and said, "That's pretty funny."
"That's pretty funny." Three words! She really does have the hots for me!
Unfortunately, I haven't seen Somewhat Cute Cashier since. She either went back to school or found another job. Either way, I'm stuck with fat women and smelly old men taking my money at Bottom Dollar. The good news is that I haven't forgotten my money since.
2. Cilantro Hand Girl
One of the fat girls who are stationed at the registers is this hefty chick in her early 20s. She has a red afro and sports a faint mustache. She's a bit of an oddball, too. When I met her for the first time, she was sniffing her hand as I placed my items on the conveyer belt. She then stuck out her hand toward me.
Cilantro Hand Girl: Smell my hand!
Me: Uhh... why?
Cilantro Hand Girl: My hand smells like cilantro! Smell my hand!
Me: Uhh... no thanks, I'm actually stuffed up so I can't smell anyway.
That was a lie, of course. There was no way I smelling a fat chick's hand. This could have been a ruse she concocted to eat my face, after all.
As I quickly discovered though, this was not her intention. She was actually insane. She told me two stories:
1. Cilantro Hand Girl's friend called her at 2 a.m. and asked to meet her at Bottom Dollar. Because that's where all of the cool kids hang out at night.
Bottom Dollar is closed at that hour, but Cilantro Hand Girl arrived there regardless. Her friend didn't show, however. Perhaps her "friend" had second thoughts about smelling the cilantro.
2. Cilantro Hand Girl revealed to me that she walks to work every day.
Me: Oh cool, I walk here too.
Cilantro Hand Girl: Do you walk two hours like I do!?
Me: Two hours? No, it's like two minutes.
Cilantro Hand Girl: I spend two hours walking to work every day! You should try it!
Me: Nah, no thanks. Why don't you get someone to drive you?
Cilantro Hand Girl: That's no fun! Besides, I used to bike here, but my bike broke down.
I'm not quite sure how a bike "breaks down," but I didn't want to continue the conversation with her. I gave her the money I owed her for my groceries, silently thanking the heavens that I wouldn't have to talk to her anymore.
Cilantro Hand Girl: That comes to $13.64! Was this all in your budget?
Me: Budget? I'm just buying a few random things.
Cilantro Hand Girl: My hand really smells like cilantro. Are you sure you don't want to smell it?
Me: Yeah, I'm sure.
Cilantro Hand Girl: That's so great that you can just walk here and fit everything into your budget!
Me: Eh, I wouldn't say I really have a budget.
I have no idea why, but what I said angered her. She didn't say anything to me after that except "here's your change." As she handed me the money I was owed, I inadvertently got a whiff of her hand. It actually did smell like cilantro.
3. Bearded Lady
I said that I walk to Bottom Dollar. If I'm driving home from somewhere, I'll occasionally pull into the parking lot. This lot is adjacent to another one, which people frequently use to cut through to reach the main road near my house. I often do this when I'm going to the gym. I have no idea if this is legal or not, but it's convenient.
I embarked on a trip to the gym one afternoon, and I was making my usual turn into the parking lot. Unfortunately, there was a cop car waiting for me. Probably thinking I was going to perform an illegal driving maneuver, he started following me. You know, I'm so glad our brave police officers are working hard to stop real crime! Thank you for protecting and serving by following people in parking lots, a**hole.
I knew I'd be f***ed if I turned onto the main road, so I decided to proceed to Bottom Dollar. I needed some paper plates anyway for an impending party at my house, so I figured I'd just buy them.
I parked my car, and as I did this, the police officer stopped and watched as I entered Bottom Dollar. Again, I'm so thankful that we have some heroic cops protecting all of us from terrible crimes. This guy deserves some sort of medal for keeping the peace!
Anyway, I grabbed some paper plates and went to the register. There was one guy ahead of me, but he was having some issues with the cashier, a black woman with cornrows. She had two very distinct features: a tattoo of lips on her neck and bushy clumps of facial hair. She had a patch of pubic-like hair near her tattoo, which made me want to vomit.
Bearded Lady must have been new based on her interactions with the 60-year-old man in front of me. First of all, she was slurring her words. I noticed this when she asked him, "How yaaa dooinn' sirrr?" She then picked up the bread he was trying to purchase and looked at it quizzically.
Bearded Lady: How much dis bagga bread?
Old Man: I don't know.
Bearded Lady: I'm tryiinnn taa fine out how much dis bagga bread, but it do not has a sticka on it!
Old Man: I think you're supposed to scan it.
Bearded Lady: Yeahhh thasss wha I say, it doo not hass a sticka!
Are bar codes and "stickas" now synonyms, or something? If so, I must have missed that announcement.
Bearded Lady picked up the scanner and began mashing the button as she turned and flipped around the "bagga bread" every which way. It took her a couple of minutes, but she eventually lucked into scanning it.
She somehow managed to scan the other items more rapidly and eventually read the man his total. He took a credit card out of his wallet and handed it to her. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it took her 10 minutes to swipe it. I checked my phone, and it was 4:33 when she started doing this, and it was 4:43 when she finally called someone over. She kept trying, and it continued to fail.
Bearded Lady: Why do disss nnnot work?
Other Bottom Dollar Employee: Let me see...
Bearded Lady: Dis card keep on trickin' me!
Yes. The credit card has conspired to trick you. Bearded Lady's suspicions grew when the other Bottom Dollar employee - the aforementioned stinky, mustachioed man - swiped the card correctly on the first try.
Other Bottom Dollar Employee: There it goes.
Bearded Lady: I tolded you, dis card keep on trickin'!
I had to contain my laughter because Bearded Lady was just so stupid. Fortunately, I didn't have to deal with her because the mustachioed man took over the register and made Bearded Lady watch.
I'm guessing that she was just incapable of learning how to work everything because that was the only time I ever saw her at Bottom Dollar. Thank God. I'd rather smell Cilantro Hand Girl a thousand times rather than deal with an idiot who doesn't know how to scan a "bagga bread."
Back to 2015...
That was what I wrote back in May 2013. I didn't go back to Bottom Dollar as much because of Kim Jong-un's Cocoa Puff plan, which actually worked out to perfection. But when I did go, it was more of Cilantro Hand Girl and the old man who reeked of cat urine, and less of Somewhat Cute Cashier and any other attractive employees.
I can't believe I ever wondered why Bottom Dollar shut down.