Some fat motherfucker tried to jack $100 from me this weekend. And here is how it went down:
Friday night was spent getting driz-unk. So Saturday I was going to take it easy with the liquor and just drink a little wine. I was at a friend's house, and we decided to make a Circle K run for booze. I wanted one cheap ass bottle of wine, and my friend wanted beer. I was completely sober (bummer!) so I offered to drive us there.
My friend went in first and bought what he needed while I was trying to find my wallet in my way too fucking big purse. By the time I was walking in, he was on his way out to wait for me in the car. I browsed the aisles for a minute or two to find what cheap ass wine would be the least disgusting. As I was walking around, I noticed the cashier staring at me. I didn't think anything of it because um, hello? I'm hawt. People stare.
When I made it up the counter, the dumb fuck told me he had to run my card as debit rather than credit because the machine had been acting up. Knowing something odd was going on, I said it was fine for him to run it as debit. (I just wanted to get the fuck away from his creepy gaze.)
After running my card and entering my pin, he just stared at me like he wanted to wear my skin as a coat until I ran out of there without getting a receipt. I figured I would rather miss a receipt than be skinned by a fatass.
And so it began.
The next morning (ahem, afternoon) when I woke up, I went to check my bank account. (Because I'm a responsible person, and I check my bank account DAILY. Even Saturdays and Sundays, bitches.) Lo and behold, there was a charge from Circle K for $111.13.
For one fucking bottle of wine. I wasn't buying chardo-fucking-nnay. I immediately thought of that fat piece of shit behind the counter. I told Andy to get ready NOW, and we ran to the car to start the long, long five minute drive to Circle K.
When I first walked in, I was shaking uncontrollably from anger. I probably looked like I had epilepsy. I explained my situation as calmly as I could, and the shit storm began. The Assistant Manager spent TWO. HOURS. That's right. TWO. HOURS. looking for the receipt so we could see what exactly he had done. The whole time she is looking for the receipt, she is also calling the guy who did it who, coincedentally, is not answering.
She finally gets the receipt reprinted and oh, look at that! There was a $100 gift card purchased by my credit card last night. Huh. I don't think I remember buying that.
OH YEAH. THAT'S BECAUSE I FUCKING DIDN'T.
Right about that time, the dumb fuck returned the Assistant Manager's calls to see what was going on. After explaining the situation to him, he said, "Well, I remember one drunk middle-aged woman coming in here around 1 AM to buy wine and a gift card."
Did he just call me middle-aged?
Oh, it's on.
The fucking blind idiot told her he would be up there shortly to figure out what was going on. The guy who STOLE money from me and was actually caught in the fucking act was going to show up and try to play it off. I was trembling with excitement at getting to look in the eyes of the person who fucked me over and listen to him try to make excuses. I mean, really. How often do we get the chance to actually talk to the person who stole from us?
I was sitting in the car with Fiancee when we saw dumbfatfuckingidiotputonsomegoddamnshoes walk in the door. I suddenly morphed into ghetto black girl mode. "There he be," I said as I threw open my door and stepped outside. After slamming my car door like a badass, I walked like a woman on a mission into the store.
The dumbass was standing at the front of the store staring at me and Fiancee awkwardly for about fifteen seconds.
"Remember me?" I said with hate oozing out of my eyes.
He tried to pull of a confused look. But of course. He didn't recognize me. Even though I was the only goddamn person in the whole goddamn store at 1 AM. Fucking dipshit.
"Yeah, you stole $100 from me last night off of my debit card, genius." His pudgy mouth opened and excuses started pouring out. At that point, I think lava started pouring out of my nostrils.
"Get. The. FUCK. Away from me. Right fucking NOW." I'm pretty sure I grew devil's horns as this came out of my mouth. He held up his hands, as if surrendering, and walked to the other side of the store. The first smart move of the day.
When the manager gets back and takes the four of us to the stock room, I'm pretty ready to lay into him.
(Oh, and so is the manager. She was supposed to leave work to go meet her daughter for her final wedding dress fitting before the big day. Thanks to this little matter, she didn't make it in time. Her daughter said, "But you're my mom. You're supposed to be here for this." And this my friends? THIS is where most of my anger was coming from. I can get my $100 back. But this woman will NEVER get that moment back again. Piece. Of. Shit.)
The manager starts asking him what exactly happened. After he gives bullshit response after bullshit response, she gets fed up and walks back into the store to figure out what to do. And I have a feeling she left me and Fiancee back there with dumbfuckingfug on purpose. He was actually inside the stock room, and we were blocking the door.
If this story played out like I wanted it to, I would tell you that I beat the everlovingshit out of him. Unfortunately, that is kind of against the law. Plus I didn't want him to squash me with his giant man titties. Instead, I cussed him up one side and down the other. I was raising my voice, I was snarling like a dog ready to bite, I had my finger all up in his face, and I was Z snapping with the best of the black girls. At the point when I thought I was going to scratch his eyes right out of his head, I turned and walked off.
Which is where Fiancee picked up. Fiancee was just as mad as me so he tore into this guy just like I had seconds earlier. And let me tell you. Finacee is scary as FUCK when he is angry. When I felt that he was almost finished with his ranting, I walked back up the guy.
"By the way, I'm calling the police right now so I can't wait to see the video surveillance."
Which is when fatfuck made a beeline for the exit. Um, guilty much?
Once the cops showed up, the manager walked up to me with the telephone. She didn't tell me who it was, but after saying hello, I heard that obnoxious voice in my ear.
"I don't need your $100. I have a job. Why don't you just meet me up at Circle K for my shift on Thursday, and I'll give you $120."
I like the fact that he honestly believed he still had a job at that point.
The fun ended after that. I just had a police report written up, and the cop told me a detective would be in touch with me soon.
About five minutes after I left, the cop called me on my cell phone. "So we just watched the video. That guy rang up your purchase and right as you were walking out the door, he reached around to grab a $100 gift card and swipe it. He put it in his pocket along with the receipt. I just wanted to let you know that it wasn't all in your head." After he told me to keep being sweet (obviously he wasn't around for the cussing party), I hung up and cheered a happy cheer.
Another thief off the streets. You're welcome, local community.