You've been coming here a long time and I'm a "real bitch" eh? Ooo bravo big man, pushing at least 70 and verbally abusing the girl a third of your age behind the counter. Do you feel tough? I'm actually not a bitch as everyone else has liked me enough to keep me around for several years now. Getting minimal service from me? Here's why. You smoke cigarettes, thus taking out and viewing the package 25 times multiplied by how many packages you smoke, and yet you still come into a store and wave your hand around and say, "I don't know what they're called. Just show me all the shelves." Well actually, that's illegal. You don't have the privilege of viewing shelves of cigarettes anymore, and I'm not Vanna White lifting each cover at your leisure. Knowing what brand you smoke isn't my job, it's actually your only job as the customer. I also don't take kindly to people coming in regularly asking for matches when you only make a $12 purchase here every few months. When I don't have matches and you whine about how are you supposed to light this, and I suggest buying a lighter, you scoff and say "I won't be paying for a light" as if it's reasonable to assume a business will provide you a constant free supply of matches without purchase. It's not. On top of that, frankly, your manners are shit. I've never heard a hello, please, or thank you out your rotten old mouth. When you come in and distastefully ask me if my boss is "dead or something?" while he is actually away attending a funeral, you lost all good graces I had left to give. So again, because you didn't have the balls to stick around and all I've got is the bitch board to retort, fuck you. A big fat fuck you. Now I'm a bitch. —A real bitch