Waiting in line to pay for treats I want to send to a vegan friend in Nashville, the lady ahead of me discovers how much her haul at the buy-one-get-one-half-price total comes to.

It exceeds £80. I'm in Holland and Barrett, so she must be buying some miracle stuff. As it turns out, she is: "I've lost three stone with that. Glass in the morning, glass at night and I've lost three stone" The teller says "Really? I tell ya, I can't tell if I'm losin' or gainin'. I've been takin' me fat pills and I can't tell"

The woman buying her miracle shit says "Oh I was just putting it on. Eating the wrong thing and not exercising". I gave this comment a mental gold star because it's usually the last thing you'll hear a fat person admit. She wasn't fat anymore though so maybe that's why it came out so easily.

"Oooooh no" says the teller "I get enough exercise" I think "that's a pity" because there's nothing worse than working really hard and seeing nothing in the way of results and I feel bad for her. "No, not with me runnin' up and down here like a yo-yo" she gestures up the shop.

I've been going to this branch of Holland and Barrett for about 6 years and I think she's been working there for about 6 days. I know because I call in daily. The entire length of the place can't be more than 15 meters, but I've worked in a shop and know that the square footage doesn't necessarily denote how much running around you do, so I decide not to be a judgmental cunt.

It's my turn to pay and as I try to voice a question, the store alarm is set off. The teller says to her concerned colleague "leave it, it'll be one of the things" she makes a "bottle of something" gesture with two hands. So she knew about the security stickers and didn't remove them, happy for the lady who just dropped £80 to spend the rest of her day setting off security alarms in shops and having her bags poked at by gormless security staff who by and large, do so at their own pace of "I'm just standing here, I've got all day".

It's around now that I start to think that the teller may be a moron, but my suspicion is confirmed when I ask if a sweet is certainly vegan. It doesn't say that it is on the label, but I've read the ingredients and there's nothing suspect; the only reason I ask is because if something IS vegan, it will usually sport some thumbs-up certification badge.

She reads the ingredients out to me. I can see where things are going, so I say it's fine, I'll take it anyway, that it's fine - I just want to leave. She says "Yeah, it's probably fine. Just try it and see".

Just try it and see. I'll tell my friend that he must just try it and see if afterwards he gets the sense that he ingested The Living.

I revert back to being a judgmental cunt. She's a complete and utter spoon.

I can say with utter certainty that most of the staff I've ever dealt with in Holland and Barrett are really NICE people, but the vast majority are also appallingly stupid. Shockingly so.

Every one of these little episodes remind me of those three months in 2009 when I couldn't even land a job pushing a food cart up the aisle of the East Coast trains. I must come across so badly, because these people have jobs and I did not.

Maybe it's because I'm a cunt.

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