Yeap...it's one of those again.
So about a month ago, or whenever I feel like it was cuz ima muthafuckin boss(that video is mad funny), I went to Raley's to get a large turkey sandwich. But not just any sandwich, it is a sandwich built from the tendons of Zeus himself, with the power to crumble great mountains, and bring the most powerful of gods to their knees; it's basically the best really big sandwich you can get for 8 dollars.
I go there every couple of weeks and we usually get this black guy, Steven, or this chink, Chinky McChinkerson, to make us the sandwich. They always make it really good because they don't follow the rules. See, the catch with buying a huge eight dollar sandwich is that they put shit on it. Weird tasting turkey slices, lettuce, tomatoes, mayonnaise, mustard, and shit, don't forget the shit. But when Steven or Chinker O' Gookfield is there, they don't follow any of the rules and I get half pepper turkey, half pastrami, with anything else I want (once again, cuz ima muthafuckin boss).
But on that one fateful afternoon, we get this black girl. I forget her name, but it started with a "S", so it's probably Shaniqua, or Sha Nay Nay, or Orlando. Anyhoo, I had encountered her once before with my mom, and my mom got really mad because, according to her, the black girl made a bad sandwich and the service was terrible. I thought it was fine, but as soon as I saw her, I told my mom to go do the rest of the shopping and I would get the sandwich myself.
Good idea! Cuz my mom would have went straight 18 dummy on that beezy (I think that means my mom would have gotten extremely mad and complained a great deal). Basically, she didn't know anything about making a sandwich under Raley's big sandwich rules. So, I picked out a french bread from the nearby cart and handed it to her. She cut it and then we began the process of a thousand sighs. I asked for pepper turkey, and she yelled across me to her old white lady co-worker to ask if they can put pepper turkey. Nope. So then I ask for lettuce and tomatoes. Yes. Ok, not so bad anymore, then this happens:
Shantifa: Do you want mayonnaise?
Me: Yes.
Shantifa: (yelling to co-worker) Can we put mayonnaise?
Co-worker: Yes.
Let that sink in for a minute. Ok great.
Then I ask for onions, she asks co-worker. Yay I get onions. I ask for olive spread, she asks co-worker. Boo no olive spread. Same thing happens with mustard, what the hell, it's fucking mustard!
She then asks me what kind of cheese I want, American I say (Obama!Obama!).
Then, as she is laying down those thin slices of compacted yellow milk, she gets to the 5th slice and stops. And I wonder, what could have happened to prevent that 5th slice from floating down into the 7 dollars and 99 cents of deliciousness?
Well, we don't have to wait long to find out. She asks Mr. Chinkerstein if she should put 4 or 5 slices of cheese, he says 4. So, then she takes off the 5th slice that was already half way on the sandwich, and spaces out the 4 slices left. Right in front of my innocent fucking face. A crime like that should be heralded as blasphemy!
So the sandwich is done, and you know what, it's not that bad, I'm a pretty patient and understanding person. It's all good Shabonquifa. So she strolls along to the register to slap a price tag on it...........and she doesn't know the code for 8 dollar sandwich's. So she asks the white lady, then the chink, then another lady, then a white guy. And you know what/!?!?1/!? They all don't know the fucking code. Then, they all come behind the counter and spend a good 8-10 minutes trying to figure out the code. With me just standing there, wiggling the suicide switch in my pocket, but deciding to take the stronger path and wait this motherfucker out.
Eventually, with the brainpower of five Raley's deli professionals, they finally figure out the forbidden code. WOOPS! I forgot to mention that during the entire 8-10 minutes, the black girl was holding the ceramic wrapped sandwich on her shoulder and under her arm the whole time! YOU HAVE TO BE SHITTING ME. Like wow, you couldn't have just put it down.
She hands me the sandwich, which they usually put in a bag, but this took so fucking long I didn't want to bother her dumbass and just grabbed the french bread bag on the counter to hold the sandwich in.
Then, my mother and I get to the register to pay for the sandwich with the other groceries, and as the guy is swiping our items, I notice something extraordinary on the checkout screen. Something so unbelievably magnificent, that even Angelica Pickles would not exhibit a squeal. One of the items said:
French Bread $1.69
I didn't buy a french bread, only a sandwich. The sandwich was inside of the bread bag, but surely the well-trained Raley's register man would know that a French Bread isn't that heavy. Haha, well isn't that a funny mix up, I should immediately notify the nice man of his mistake of charging me only $1.69 for an 8 dollar sandwich.
WELL TOO FUCKING BAD BITCH UUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH!!!!!
IN YOUR FACE RALEY'S
IN YOUR FACE SHANTIFA
IN YOUR FACE CHINK BITCH
I WIN.
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