Get.me.out.of.here.

I sit behind a plexiglass window at work.
Customers laugh and ask me if the trash is a dangerous business. In my head, I generally think that while trash isn't dangerous, our part of town IS, and oh, look, there go your rims in that shopping cart.
What I usually SAY is that it's kind of like the spit shield at the salad bar--and through the wonders of plexiglass, they can usually, literlally, see my point. ugh.

Yesterday I actually had a man tap on the plexiglass and tell me to try and keep up.

I thought I was going to go straight through the window. Un-freaking-believable. One of us wasn't getting it, but it sure as hell wasn't me.

Helpful hint? When demanding extra help from a Customer Service Rep? Try not to piss them off.

wow. this has been a remarkably restrained post about yet another booger-eating-moron.

You're welcome.