Women Are Pigs

I've been in the dry cleaning business for almost six years. My last job lasted approximately five years until the store closed. I didn't even wait for it to close. We were told the store would close in two months. I drove to the other side of town and walked into a cleaners where I was offered a job on the spot. Lucky, huh?

In my first job I had many duties. I pressed, I loaded and unloaded the machines. I waited on customers, I assessed situations (i.e. I listen to people gripe and moan). I opened the store in the morning and closed in the evening.

When I quit, I was making $7.75 an hour. What was I thinking? Five years of all that and for $7.75?!! What can I say? The hours were good and I was comfortable. A little too comfortable, I think, now that I think of it.

My new job is The Dry Cleaner. Dah-dah-da-da!! My boss sent me to school and everything. Oh, I still press when I have time but foremost I do the cleaning. I spot clean out those dribbles of coffee you spill. I wash the pants that you had that little accident in. I determine if the unknown on your collar is make-up or just pure grime. And I do it all with my superb power of Trial and Error! Dah-dah-da-da!!

Ok, I do have some knowledge of chemical makeup and what chemicals to use on what type of grime and types of fabric. Somedays I wish I didn't. Somedays I wish I was mopping the floor somewhere. I have, over the years come to the conclusion that...

You people are disgusting! I'm gonna break it down for you but you probably won't care. More and more I see too many people who could give a rat's about feeling or helping someone or letting someone in that lane when they're trying to get out of the freaking Wal-mart!
First of all, if your going to you local cleaners and you have a nasty spot on your nasty clothes, be a dear and tell the counter person!

This was a MAJOR problem when I worked at my first cleaners job. Someone comes through the drive-thru window and tries to stuff a comforter the size of Kansas through a window the size of a postage stamp. So I'd grab it up in my arms (because there's no where else for a comforter the size of Kansas to go) and it's all in my face and I'd pull it on through. I'd get knocked backward by the horrible reek of pee, poo, or vomit that several days old and has been sitting in the sun. What are you thinking? I mean, you had that in your back seat. You had that in your arms. I don't care how nasty you are at home. I don't care if you never wash your hands. But you ought to care about shoving something so utterly gross into my face! Now go wash your hands; that's nasty!

Bottom line: Find the biggest garbage bag you can. Tear up several small ones if you have to, to make a large one. Put the peed on blanket in the bag. There you go, that's a good customer. Maybe I'll give you a cookie.

Dudes, really, come on. You guys are pretty gross. Look, I realize it's embarrassing to have skid marks on your jeans, but you have to realize that I have to stick my hand in each pocket. I have to affix a tag onto the pants and hand them off to whoever's going to clean them. You can tell me. Hey, it's me; I've seen it all. I won't make fun of you.
To your face, anyway.

You ladies are no better either. In fact, you're the worst. Women are the most disgusting creatures alive today. Would it kill you to wear underwear if you're going to wear white pants so tight that they're practically inside you? Especially, and I can't stress this enough, if the pants are dry clean only. I, and I alone have to spot out that crusty gunk, that Crotch Rot that you don't even care that you're sitting in all day! Oh, and while we're on the topic of white pants, here's the lesson for today, kiddies:
If you where white, you must wipe

Q. But showing an underwear line makes my butt look big. What can I do?
A. Your butt looks big anyway, especially in those two-sizes-too-small-pants.

If you're going to be purposely , habitually gross, we will make fun of you behind closed doors. Besides that, it makes the day go by faster and helps us blow off some steam. Also, while we're talking about this sort of thing, let me point out to you (in case you didn't notice) that I am in fact, a woman as well. I am quite understanding about the Surprise Period. We all get accidents from time to time.

HOWEVER! Don't turn the pants inside out and shove the blood stain in my face saying, "I have a stain!" but also don't leave me to simply discover it all on my own. Ew. You people just have no idea, do you? No you don't. Because all you worry about is yourself and you fabulous job and your $200,000 house. Yeah, well I have some worries of my own. I worry about what's on the used snot rags I pull from your pockets. I worry about that brown stain on the seat of those pants.

Did he sit in something brown or....?
Is this blood stain of a healthy person, or is the blood infested with, uh...?

Don't get me wrong, some of you are very nice, very decent people. I applaud you for pointing out your stains. HOWEVER, when you do, please, puh-leeze don't shove it up my nose saying, "LOOK! the massive poo-poo stain is right HERE!"

You don't have to point out every stain the size of a flea. And if it takes you fifteen full minuets to find the stain that you swear up and down is there although no one else on the planet can see it without a super powered microscope, don't bother.

And for the love of PETE! DO NOT rub in your stains! If you happen to be a pig, and you know who you are, don't put the hammer down on your soup stain. Should you dribble onto your $80 silk blouse, simply dab it dry and bring it straight to me. (Don't wait 18 months; change and bring to me!) Do not take your so-called napkin (you weren't even aware you had one, were you?) and put down 60 pounds of pressure and rub vigorously. Honestly, you people must be trying to rub the soup right through the garment!

"If I rub hard enough, maybe it'll just pass on through to the other side. I might take a little skin with it but that's ok!"

You're making my job harder! You're making it harder for me to remove the stain and then you get mad at me! A good rule of thumb for all you people on the go--YOU who must drive while on the cell phone, doing your child's homework and eating a main course of sloppy BBQ sauce slathered ribs---LEAVE IT ALONE! Don't do so much while you're driving. You people are making me nuts because the light is green and I'm sitting behind you and I'm very late. Step away from the cell phone, acknowledge the green traffic light, tough your right foot to the pedal on the right and slowly accelerate. There you go--but CAREFUL! You don't want to spill that wanton soup on your new suit as you turn the corner.