Twisted.

Friday the 9th.
I go to pick up the gift my grandparents bought me for my birthday. It's a princess cut ruby with diamonds surrounding it. It's absolutely gorgeous. Fits my personal style perfectly, I've had my eye on it since eighth grade. And finally, my grandparents said to me, we know you work hard, you're a good student, and a good kid. Pick out whatever you'd like. So I picked that. In all the excitement of FINALLY having this ring after almost four years of droooooling over it, I took a picture of it and sent it to my friend. I get a text back, that says, "It's just a ring. What's so great about it?" I was in shock, my jaw dropped, I couldn't believe this. After awhile, I figured out that it wasn't her- it was her boyfriend. He proceeded to tell me that it meant nothing since it didn't have anything behind it. How about it means that I've worked just about every day this summer, and I paid off my car in just over a year? How about it means that someone finally appreciates everything I've done, the things I've been through, and everything I've sacrificed? Yeah, that's what I thought. So jewelry can't mean anything because my boyfriend didn't give it to me? He says that's not what he said, but it's exactly what he said.
Twisted.

Saturday the 10th.
I'm at work, just like every Saturday morning. I ask a customer if she'd like to buy a raffle ticket, because I'm supposed to ask every customer. She proceeds to give me a line of crap because I didn't know when the drawing was. Anyhow, she ends up buying one in the end, so I swipe her credit card, put it on the counter, and print her receipt for her to sign off on. She proceeds to yell at me because I put her card on the counter while I waited for the receipt. And then continued to tell me that I have no skills to run this business. Sorry hon, I don't run this place, I just work here.
Twisted.
After that endeavor, the assistant manager from another store was a fill-in supervisor because we were short handed. She doesn't know where anything is in our store since she's a fill-in, so she asked me to grab her a ticket gun. The closest one was through the back, since I was in the back of the store. I open the door to take it, and another employee's boyfriend was back there with her, he looks me straight in the face and says, "Speaking of the dumbasses..." I walked out. I'm not putting up with his shit. He has no right to treat me like that, whether he's joking around or not. You just don't talk to people like that- you just don't.
Twisted.

Wednesday the 14th.
I'm at my other job, and a customer walks up to my window, and asks what kind of icecream goes in the waffle bowls. I tell him we will put in whatever kind he'd like. He says he's not sure what kind he wants, and he wants me to 'design it for him.' I said sure, but are you allergic to anything? With my luck, he'd be allergic to peanuts or something and die on the spot. So he says, "Only ugly blonde chicks like you." I should have spit in his food. Or licked it. Or thrown it on the floor. Somehow befowled it in some way. This guy was just a major flea bag. Or in words of John the food prep guy, "profoundly rude."
Twisted.

Thursday the 15th.
It's 8:00 AM, I've just sent Matt off to work, and I'm in our living room watching TV. This obnoxious sounding truck pulls into my driveway- and I've never seen this truck before. Keep in mind, I'm the only one at the house right now. So whoever this guy is, he walks up to the side door, and rings the doorbell. The windows are open, so I know he heard it ring. He rings again. Since I don't answer the door, he walks to the front door- with windows in clear sight of the living room. I book it off the couch and hide in the opposite corner. He rings that bell, no lie, seven times in a row. Then I hear him walking away. But he's not leaving. I hear him walk back up to the side door, and ring the bell, again. Finally he gets in his truck and leaves. I hurry up and check the license plate, ready to write it down, I always do. I see a sticky note stuck to the door, says stopped by to say hello, you weren't here, give us a call sometime. As I saw the license plate, it instantly clicked to me who this guy was. When we sold our condo way back when, these people obviously moved into it, and we've somewhat kept in touch with them. It was that guy. But, isn't it rather certain that my parents would be working at 8 in the morning on a Thursday? And why aren't you? This guy, is also a flea bag. He's really weird and I've never really liked him much. He's just - weird.
Twisted.

It hasn't been a very good past few days, hopefully things will get better sooner than later. I don't want this bs anymore, it's gotta end eventually.