Frosty The Bitch @averykantz - Tumblr Blog

Tattered Blankets and Mending Hearts Part 6

Officer Shiro calls Coran to let him know that the cameras they set up caught a teenager picking up the belongings from behind the cafe. He goes on to explain that something just didn’t feel right about the situation so he and Keith would like to keep the cameras there for a few more days to try and catch anymore activity to help them make sense of what is going on.

Coran agrees and goes back to the duties that come with owning a cafe. He goes about his day wondering if the suspicion he has about the belongings is true or not. He has a sinking feeling it is true but he hopes that it isn’t. This is one of the few instances where he doesn’t want to be right.

Shiro waits until the end of the work day before packing up his belongings and heading over to Keith’s office across the hall. He knocks on the door but doesn’t wait for an answer, instead he steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. He waits for Keith to finish filling out whatever paperwork he’s doing before speaking.

“Come on, we‘re gonna do a short patrol around town. I think I might have an idea of what’s going on at Coran’s cafe but I wanna see if we can find any solid leads.” Shiro says and leans against the wall as he waits for Keith to get ready to leave.

Keith sets his document down and packs up his stuff so that he can head home straight from their mini investigation. He stands up and slings his bag across his shoulder as he walks toward the door. He snags the keys to the squad car on the way out.

“Fine, but I’m driving this time.” He states simply as Shiro falls into step behind him. He holds the door open for his partner as they exit the building and they both slip into the car with practiced ease.

“Where to first?” Keith asks as he fits the key into the ignition and gives it a short twist to bring the engine to life. He looks over at Shiro for a response before putting the car into reverse and easily backing out of their spot.

“Just drive towards Coran’s shop, but slowly. I want to check out the area and see if we can find any clues as to what’s going on around here.” Shiro explains and looks out the window as Keith takes a new way to Coran’s cafe so that they could cover more of the area around it.

The pair is slowly cruising past a skate shop, only three streets over from Coran’s cafe, when Shiro spots a familiar face. The teen who had been caught taking the bag from behind Coran’s cafe has just stepped out of the skate shop and is walking down the sidewalk the opposite direction of where Keith is driving.

“Keith, stop the car! Pull over! That’s the kid from the surveillance video. He might have a clue as to what is actually going on here.” Shiro says and slaps his hand on the dash board to emphasize the necessity of Keith stopping the car at that exact moment.

Shiro receives an unimpressed look for his childlike action but Keith pulls the squad car over nonetheless. Before Keith can even shut the engine off, Shiro has already propelled himself out of the car and is jogging after the teen he spotted moments ago.

“Hey kid! I need to talk to you for a sec!” Shiro calls out to the teen when he’s only a few footfalls behind him. The kid turns his head and goes pale when he sees a cop running towards him but doesn’t turn around and run like Shiro had expected him to. Instead, the teen turns around fully and looks up at Shiro.

“Sir, I’m pretty sure that I haven’t done anything illegal in my life. What do you want to talk to me for?” The teen asks, a look of confusion and a bit of nervousness stretches its way across his acne prone face.

The teen’s face scrunches up in confusion as he realizes what the officer is talking about. “Yeah, I did take the bags from behind that coffee place but I didn’t sell any of it and I swear i wasn’t stealing. At least I don’t think I was… Some guy came and found my friend and I at the park we skate at. He said he heard that we live for a good dare and challenged us to get the stuff from behind the cafe without getting caught. Guess we got caught.” He shrugs and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“I gave the stuff to the guy on that corner over there,” He gestures to the corner, “he promised us a coffee on the house so my guess is that he works there.” He looks up at Shiro nervously. “Listen, sir, I wasn’t trying to do anything bad. I never back down from dares, is all. I’m not going to jail right?” He asks.

Shiro shakes his head and takes out a pad of paper to take notes on but has a feeling that he won’t actually be needing it. “Could you describe the guy who asked you to grab the belongings from behind the store?” Shiro requests as a formality of his job. He sighs sndmpickets the pad of paper when the teen perfectly describes a certain blue eyed worker at Coran’s shop. “Thanks for your help.” Shiro says and heads back over to the squad car which Keith has just managed to park.

Shiro pops his door open and easily slides into the passenger seat. “The kid said he took the stuff from behind the shop on a dare. Lance was the one who dared him.” He explains while turning to look at his partner. “Lets go to the cafe, I think we need to ask Lance a few questions.” He sighs.

Keith nods but his dark eyebrows are furrowed because of the thoughts running through his mind. They could both guess Lance’s motives for leaving his belongings behind Coran’s shop and neither of them liked what that instilled for the Cuban.

Keith starts up the car once again and drives toward the cafe. Neither of them knowing that Lance is sleeping on a park bench in the park they’d already passed on their way from the police station to the skate shop where they’d caught the teen from the video.

Keith parks the car in front of the cafe and walks in behind his partner. Blocks away, Lance pulls a tattered blanket closer to himself to try and shield himself from the wind blowing through the park that’s become his makeshift home.

((So this is super duper late and I’m sorry! Good news is I have a long weekend this week and I’m planning to finish the next chapter this weekend!))

1/2/3/4/5/6

splickedylit

if i was a shapeshifter, half of my time would be spent making myself look androgynous and trimming up the things about my shape I’m not happy with, and half of my time would be spent making my teeth look just a little bit sharper than is normal, changing my eye-color subtly between slightly unsettling shades, and giving myself an intricate “tattoo” that just barely moves every couple of hours, until it’s in a whole new shape next time you look at me.

antique-scarecrow

#i waNT TO BE AN ELDRITCH BEING WHOSE ONLY GENDER IS “ATTRACTIVELY DISTURBING”#IS THAT SO HARD GOD?!?!?!?!?!

ruinedchildhood

[Retweet]

tetasita

condensed-theorem-shop

One of the most bizarrely cool people I’ve ever met was an oral surgeon who treated me after a ridiculous accident (that’s another story), Dr. Z.

Dr. Z. was, easily, the best and most competent doctor or dentist I’ve ever encountered – and after that accident, I encountered quite a number. He came stunningly highly recommended, had an excellent record, and the most calming bedside manner I’ve ever seen.

That last wasn’t the sweet gentle caretaking sort of manner, which some nurses have but you wouldn’t expect to see in a surgeon. No; when Dr. Z. told me that one of my broken molars was too badly damaged to save, and I (being seventeen and still moderately in shock) broke down crying, he stared at me incredulously and said, in a tone of utter bemusement, “But – I am very good.”

I stopped crying on the spot. In the last twenty-four hours or so of one doctor after another, no one had said anything that reassuring to me. He clearly just knew his own competence so well that the idea of someone being scared anyway was literally incomprehensible to him. What more could I possibly ask for?

(He was right. The procedure was very extended, because the tooth that needed to be removed was in bits, but there was zero pain at any point. And, as he promised, my teeth were so close together that they shifted to fill the gap to where there genuinely is none anymore, it’s just a little easier to floss on that side.)

But Dr. Z.’s insane competence wasn’t just limited to oral surgery.

When I met Dr. Z., he, like most doctors I’ve had, asked me if I was in college, and where, and what I was studying. When I say “math,” most doctors respond with “oh, wow, good for you” or possibly “what do you want to do with that after college?”

Dr. Z. wanted to know what kind of math.

I gave him the thirty-second layman’s summary that I give people who are foolish enough to ask that. He responded with “oh, you mean–” and the correct technical terms. I confirmed that was indeed what I meant (and keep in mind, this was upper-division college math, you don’t take this unless you’re a math major). He asked cogent follow-up questions, and there ensued ten or so minutes of what I’d call “small talk” except for how it was an intensely technical mathematical discussion.

He didn’t, as far as I can tell, have any kind of formal math background. He just … knew stuff.

I was a competitive fencer at this point in time, so when he asked if I had any questions about the surgery that would be necessary, I asked him if I’d be okay to fence while I had my jaw wired shut, or if it would interfere with breathing.

“Fencing?” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “like swordfighting,” because this is another conversation I got to have a lot. (People assume they’ve misheard you, or occasionally they think you mean building fences.)

“Which weapon?”

“Uh. Foil.”

“No, it won’t be safe,” and he went off into an explanation of why.

Turns out, he was also a serious fencer – and, when I mentioned my fencing coach, an old friend of his. (I asked my fencing coach later, and, oh yes, Dr. Z., a good friend of mine, excellent fencer.) (My coach was French. Dr. Z. was Israeli. I never saw Dr. Z. around the club or anything. I have no idea how they knew each other.)

So this was weird enough that later, when I was home, I looked Dr. Z. up on Yelp. His reviews were stellar, of course, but that wasn’t the weird thing.

The weird thing was that the reviews were full of people – professionals in lots of different fields – saying the same thing: I went to Dr. Z. for oral surgery, and he asked me about what I did, and it turned out he knew all about my field and had a competent and educated discussion with me about the obscure technical details of such-and-such.

All sorts of different fields, saying this. Lawyers. Businessmen. Musicians.

As far as I can tell, it’s not that I just happened to be pursuing the two fields he had a serious amateur interest in – he just seemed to be extremely good at literally everything.

I have no explanation for this. Possibly he sold his soul to the devil.

He did a damn good job on my surgery.

saywhatjessie

#op your oral surgeon is an immortal

kyraneko

Some god is slumming it on Earth with maxed-out stats helping people and his dive bar of choice is oral surgery.

coder-avatar-star

I’m livid

crewdlydrawn-deactivated2022072

That is the most Goldblumiest thing to say. I believe it.

desperatelyseekingcannibals

10 out of a possible 10 Goldblums!

sisyphusshrugged

pananni

Wholesome content

Soviet Womble Original Video

dekoi2501post

spectregoesboo

polebunyan-deactivated20181114

yuletide-fireside

Is this Christmas Eve at John Barrowman’s house? Jesus people, you know better than to leave him to his own devices.

dateamonster

original theory: succubi are always women, incubi are always men

facts: in fact succubus comes from the latin word “succubare” which means “to lie under” and incubus comes from the latin word “incubare” which means “to lie on”

new improved theory: incubi are always tops and succubi are always bottoms. gender doesn’t matter at all.

aimofdestiny

addendum: if the sex demon in question is versatile, they’re a concubus, from the latin for ‘to lie with/beside’.

deadcatwithaflamethrower

Proper Latin headcanon accepted.

writing-prompt-s

An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.

eatbreathewrite

It isn’t uncommon for this particular demon to be summoned—from exhausting Halloween party pranks in abandoned barns to more legitimate (more exhausting) ceremonies in forests—but it has to admit, this is the first time it’s been called forth from its realm into a claustrophobic living room bathed in the dull orange-pink glow of old glass lamps and a multitude of wide-eyed, creepy antique porcelain dolls that could give Chucky a run for his money with all of their silent, seething stares combined. Accompanying those oddities are tea cup and saucer sets on shelves atop frilly doilies crocheted with the utmost care, and cross-stitched, colorful ‘Home Sweet Home’s hung across the wood-paneled walls.

It’s a mistake—a wrong number, per se. No witch it’s ever known has lived in such an, ah, dated, home. Furthermore, no practitioner that ever summoned it has been absent, as if they’d up and ding-dong ditched it. No, it didn’t work that way. Not at all. Not if they want to survive the encounter.

It hears the clinking of movement in the room adjacent—the kitchen, going by the pungent, bitter scent of cooled coffee and soggy, sweet sponge cakes, but more jarring is the smell of blood. It moves—feels something slip beneath its clawed foot as it does, and sees a crocheted blanket of whites and greys and deep black yarn, wound intricately, perfectly, into a summoning circle. Its summoning circle. There is a small splash of bright scarlet and sharp, jagged bits of a broken curio scattered on top, as if someone had dropped it, attempted to pick it up the pieces and pricked their finger. It would explain the blood. And it would explain the demon being brought into this strange place.

As it connects these pieces in its mind, the inhabitant of the house rounds the corner and exits the kitchen, holding a damp, white dish towel close to her hand and fumbling with the beaded bifocals hanging from her neck by a crocheted lanyard before stopping dead in her tracks.

Now, to be fair, the demon wouldn’t ordinarily second guess being face-to-face with a hunchbacked crone with a beaked nose, beady eyes and a peculiar lack of teeth, or a spidery shawl and ankle-length black dress, but there is definitely something amiss here. Especially when the old biddy lets her spectacles fall slack on her bosom and erupts into a wide, toothy (toothless) grin, eyes squinting and crinkling from the sheer effort of it.

“Todd! Todd, dear, I didn’t know you were visiting this year! You didn’t call, you didn’t write—but, oh, I’m so happy you’re here, dear! Would it have been too much to ask you to ring the doorbell? I almost had a heart attack. And don’t worry about the blood, here—I had an accident. My favorite figure toppled off of the table and cleanup didn’t go as expected. But I seem to recall you are quite into the bloodshed and ‘edgy’ stuff these days, so I don’t suppose you mind.” She releases a hearty, kind laugh, but it isn’t mocking, it’s sweet. Grandmotherly. The demon is by no means sentimental or maudlin, but the kindness, the familiarity, the genuine fondness, does pull a few dusty old nostalgic heartstrings. “Imagine if it leaves a scar! It’d be a bit ‘badass,’ as you teenagers say, wouldn’t it?”

She is as blind as a bat without her glasses, it would appear, because the demon is by no means a ‘Todd’ or a human at all, though humanoid, shrouded in sleek, black skin and hard spikes and sharp claws. But the demon humors her, if only because it had been caught off guard.

The old woman smiles still, before turning on her heel and shuffling into the hallway with a stiff gait revealing a poor hip. “Be a dear and make some more coffee, would you please? I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Yes, this is most definitely a mistake. One for the record books, for certain. For late-night trips to bars and conversations with colleagues, while others discuss how many souls they’d swindled in exchange for peanuts, or how many first-borns they’d been pledged for things idiot humans could have gained without divine intervention. Ugh. Sometimes it all just became so pedantic that little detours like this were a blessing—happy accidents, as the humans would say.

That’s why the demon does as asked, and plods slowly into the kitchen, careful to duck low and avoid the top of the doorframe. That’s why it gingerly takes the small glass pot and empties it of old, stale coffee and carefully, so carefully, takes a measuring scoop between its claws and fills the machine with fresh grounds. It’s as the hot water is percolating that the old woman returns, her index finger wrapped tight in a series of beige bandages.

“I’m surprised you’re so tall, Todd! I haven’t seen you since you were at my hip! But your mother mails photos all the time—you do love wearing all black, don’t you?” She takes a seat at the small round table in the corner and taps the glass lid of the cake plate with quaking, unsteady, aged hands. “I was starting to think you’d never visit. Your father and I have had our disagreements, but…I am glad you’re here, dear. Would you like some cake?” Before the demon has a chance to decline, she lifts the lid and cuts a generous slice from the near-complete circle that has scarcely been touched. It smells of citrus and cream and is, as assumed earlier, soggy, oversaturated with icing.

It was made for a special occasion, for guests, but it doesn’t seem this old woman receives much company in this musty, stagnant house that smells like an antique garage that hadn’t had its dust stirred in years.

Especially not from her absentee grandson, Todd.

The demon waits until the coffee pot is full, and takes two small mugs from the counter, filling them until steam is frothing over the rims. Then, and only then, does it accept the cake and sit, with some difficulty, in a small chair at the small table. It warbles out a polite ‘thank you,’ but it doesn’t suppose the woman understands. Manners are manners regardless.

“Oh, dear, I can hardly understand. Your voice has gotten so deep, just like your grandfather’s was. That, and I do recall you have an affinity for that gravelly, screaming music. Did your voice get strained? It’s alright, dear, I’ll do the talking. You just rest up. The coffee will help soothe.”

The demon merely nods—some communication can be understood without fail—and drinks the coffee and eats the cake with a too-small fork. It’s ordinary, mushy, but delicious because of the intent behind it and the love that must have gone into its creation.

“I hope you enjoyed all of the presents I sent you. You never write back—but I am aware most people use that fancy E-mail these days. I just can’t wrap my head around it. I do wish your mom and dad would visit sometime. I know of a wonderful little café down the street we can go to. I haven’t been; I wanted to visit it with Charles, before he…well.” She falls silent in her rambling, staring into her coffee with a small, melancholy smile. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. You never had the chance to meet him. But never mind that.” Suddenly, and with surprising speed that has the demon concerned for her well being, she moves to her feet, bracing her hands on the edge of the table. “I may as well give you your birthday present, since you’re here. What timing! I only finished it this morning. I’ll be right back.”

When she returns, the white, grey and black crocheted work with the summoning circle is bundled in her arms.

“I found these designs in an occult book I borrowed from the library. I thought you’d like them on a nice, warm blanket to fight off the winter chill—I hope you do like it.” With gentle hands, she spreads the blanket over the demon’s broad, spiky back like a shawl, smoothing it over craggy shoulders and patting its arms affectionately. “Happy birthday, Todd, dear.”

Well, that settles it. Whoever, wherever, Todd is, he’s clearly missing out. The demon will just have to be her grandson from now on.

voidbat

this is so sweet. it made me want to hug someone.

bigmammallama5

i had to

geniusorinsanity

I WOULD WATCH SIX SEASONS AND A MOVIE

rocky-horror-shit-show

Okay but she takes him to the little cafe and all of the people in her town are like “What is that thing, what the hell, Anette?” and she’s like “Don’t you remember my grandson Todd?” and the entire town just has to play along because no one will tell little old Nettie that her grandson is an actual demon because this is the happiest she’s been since her husband died.

Bonus: In season 4 she makes him run for mayor and he wins

silvermoonphantom

I just want to watch ‘Todd’ help her with groceries, and help her with cooking, and help her clean up the dust around the house and air it out, and fill it with spring flowers because Anette mentioned she loved hyacinth and daffodils. Over the seasons her eyesight worsens, so ‘Todd’ brings a hellhound into the house to act as her seeing eye dog, and people in town are kinda terrified of this massive black brute with fur that drips like thick oil, and a mouth that can open all the way back to its chest, but ‘Honey’ likes her hard candies, and doesn’t get oil on the carpet, and when ‘Todd’ has to go back to Hell for errands, Honey will snuggle up to Anette and rest his giant head on her lap, and whuff at her pockets for butterscotch. Anette never gives ‘Todd’ her soul, but she gives him her heart

wickedwitchofthewifi-deactivate

In season six, Anette gets sick. She spends most of the season bedridden and it becomes obvious by about midway through the season that she’s not going to make it to the end of the season. Todd spends the season travelling back and forth between the human realm and his home plane, trying hard to find something, anything that will help Anette get better, to prolong her life. He’s tried getting her to sell him her soul, but she’s just laughed, told him that he shouldn’t talk like that. With only a few episodes left in the season Anette passes away, Todd is by her side. When the reaper comes for her Todd asks about the fate of her soul. In a dispassionate voice the reaper informs Todd that Anette spent the last few years of her life cavorting with creatures of darkness, that there can be only one fate for her. Todd refuses to accept this and he fights the reaper, eventually injuring the creature and driving it off. Knowing that Anette cannot stay in the Human Realm, and refusing to allow her spirit to be taken by another reaper, so he takes her soul in his arms. He’s done this before, when mortals have sold themselves to him. This time the soul cradled against his chest does not snuggle and fight. This time the soul held tight against him reaches out, pats him on the cheek tells him he was a good boy, and so handsome, just like his grandfather. Todd takes Anette back to the demon realm, holding her tight against him as he travels across the bleak and forebidding landscape; such a sharp contrast to the rosy warmth of Anette’s home. Eventually, in a far corner of his home plane, Todd finds what he is looking for. It is a place where other demons do not tread; a large boulder cracked and broken, with a gap just barely large enough for Todd to fit through. This crack, of all things, gives him pause, but Anette’s soul makes a comment about needing to get home in time to feed Honey, and Todd forces himself to pass through it. He travels in darkness for a while, before he emerges into into a light so bright that it’s blinding. His eyes adjust slowly, and he finds himself face to face with two creatures, each of them at least twice his size one of them has six wings and the head of a lion, one of them is an amorphous creature within several rings. The lion-headed one snarls at Todd, and demands that he turn back, that he has no business here. Todd looks down, holding Anette’s soul against his chest, he takes a deep breath, and speaks a single word, “Please.” The two larger beings are taken aback by this. They are too used to Todd’s kind being belligerent, they consult with each other, they argue. The amorphous one seems to want to be lenient, the lion-headed one insists on being stricter. While they’re arguing Todd sneaks by them and runs as fast as he can, deeper into the brightly lit expanse. The path on which he travels begins to slope upwards, and eventually becomes a staircase. It becomes evident that each step further up the stair is more and more difficult for Todd, that it’s physically paining him to climb these stairs, but he keeps going.

They dedicate a full episode to this climb; interspersing the climb with scenes they weren’t able to show in previous seasons, Anette and Honey coming to visit Todd in the Mayor’s office, Anette and Todd playing bingo together for the first time, Anette and Todd watching their stories together in the mid afternoon, Anette falling asleep in her chair and Todd gently carrying her to bed. Anette making Todd lemonade in the summer while he’s up on the roof fixing that leak and cleaning out the rain gutters. Eventually Todd reaches the top, and all but collapses, he falls to a knee and for the first time his grip on Anette’s soul slips, and she falls away from him. Landing on the ground. He reaches out for her, but someone gets there first. Another hand reaches out, and helps this elderly woman off the ground, helps her get to her feet. Anette gasps, it’s Charles. The pair of them throw their arms around each other. Anette tells Charles that she’s missed him so much, and she has so much to tell him. Charles nods. Todd watches a soft smile on his face. A delicate hand touches Todd’s shoulder, and pulls him easily to his feet. A figure; we never see exactly what it looks like, leans down, whispering in Todd’s ear that he’s done well, and that Anette will be well taken care of here. That she will spend an eternity with her loved ones. Todd looks back over to her, she’s surrounded by a sea of people. Todd nods, and smiles. The figure behind him tells him that while he has done good in bringing Anette here, this is not his place, and he must leave. Todd nods, he knew this would be the case. Todd gets about six steps down the stairway before he is stopped by someone grabbing his shoulder again. He turns around, and Anette is standing behind him. She gives him a big hug and leads him back up the stairs, he should stay, she says. Get to know the family. Todd tries to tell her that he can’t stay, but she won’t hear it. She leads him up into the crowd of people and begins introducing him to long dead relatives of hers, all of whom give him skeptical looks when she introduces him as her grandson. The mysterious figure appears next to Todd again and tells him once more he must leave, Todd opens his mouth to answer but Anette cuts him off. Nonsense, she tells the figure. IF she’s gonna stay here forever her grandson will be welcome to visit her. She and the figure stare at each other for a moment. The figure eventually sighs and looks away, the figure asks Todd if she’s always like this. Todd just shrugs and smiles, allowing Anette to lead him through a pair of pearly gates, she’s already talking about how much cake they’ll need to feed all of these relatives.

captaintinymite

gilajames

P.S. Honey is a Good Dog and gets to go, too.

kaijufluffs

jumpingjacktrash

the last lines of the show:

demon: you’re not blind here – but you’re not surprised. when…?

anette: oh, toddy, don’t be silly, my biological grandson’s not twelve feet tall and doesn’t scorch the furniture when he sneezes. i’ve known for ages.

demon: then why?

anette: you wouldn’t have stayed if you weren’t lonely too.

demon: you… you don’t have to keep calling me your grandson.

anette: nonsense! adopted children are just as real. now quit sniffling, you silly boy, and let’s go bake a cake. honey, heel!

honey: W̝̽̂̿͂͝Ọ̮̹̲̪̋ͦͅO̸̘͔̬͊F̜̫͙̟͕͖̙̋ͫ͌͗

thehoneybeewitch

that addition is a+ :)

iopele

THE ONLY ENDING I WILL EVER ACCEPT FOR THIS

americanninjax-deactivated20191

hardykat

Every time this post shows up on my dash, it gets better (and more heart wrenching. Y’all! Stop cutting the onions okay?!).

cell113

If ever don’t reblogging this, I’m either dead, dying, or buried under cat.

writing-prompt-s

This is why I love Tumblr so much! Thank you all for collaborating on this prompt and turning it into something beautiful <3

liho907lilo

Everyone going shopping on Black Friday, be aware of three things:

The retail workers are working 12 hours shifts. We are threatened with losing our jobs if we don’t show up unless we’re dying in the hospital. I had an assistant manager show up with fucking strep because he would’ve been fired otherwise. Yes, he did infect 7 and hospitalize 2 coworkers; who knows how many members of the public he infected.

The stores have, maybe, 5 of that special cheap thing you’re after. Corporate does this on purpose, and stores are not allowed to order enough. The prices aren’t even that much lower. They lie about how expensive something is to fool you into thinking you’re getting a discount. You aren’t.

Most of the workers you will come across will be new hires for the sole purpose of being bodies for about three months before they’re fired. They actually don’t know anything because they’ve been working there for maybe two weeks, and have had no real training. I was once hired at Staples a week before Black Friday and expected to know how to deal with phones, coupons, the online ordering site, and AS400 after five 6-hour shifts. This is the kind of person you will likely be dealing with at Black Friday.

Do me and my retail family a favor and don’t shop Black Friday. Any company that needs a sale day like Black Friday to get their sales out of the red doesn’t deserve to be in business.

gothtigger92-deactivated2021052

This also goes for anyone that works shipment too. We’re suddenly expected to stay as late as they want you to even if they know you don’t have a car and rely on a ride to get you to and from work and know you can’t stay late. Shipment workers will suddenly start getting berated for not getting things done and it is by far the most stressful time to be a shipment worker for any store. Especially when they throw in new hires that don’t know how to process things and are expected to work at the same pace as the people that have worked there for a while.

Retail is shit around the holidays, especially Black Friday