Half-Assed Boycott Seems To Be Working For Now

Recently, I was forced to stage a personal boycott of my beloved local neighborhood pharmacy. I was using their crappy self-serve copy machine in the back of this cat pissy little place on my block a few months ago, and I got into an argument with the mean substitute manager. Or rather, he got into an argument with me. Not the regular manager, who is young and nice. This is the old one who closes and fills in and has the "I'm the Lesser-Known, Part-Time Manager and I'm Old and Get Paid Shit Complex" and he was all up, up, up in my piece about the copier.

Minutes earlier, I was the only customer in the store, peacefully making photocopies, and he was busy sitting on a stool eating chicken wings. As soon as heard me open the drawer to fill it with paper, he comes flying over and says to me, "Can I help you with something" but he said it in a way which doesn't mean an actual offer of help but instead means "Don't do that" to which I replied, "No, I'm fine, thank you." And then he said "OK, but don't do that." And I go, "Do what?" and he's like, "That. Don't do that without asking a manager." And I go, do what? "Fill it with paper?" and he was like, "Yes. Read the sign."

And the sign said nothing about not filling the copier with paper, and he goes, "Yes it does." And I go, "No it doesn't" and he goes, "Yes, it does" and well, clearly he was being a huge dick. Long story short: My last words in that store were, "WELL, SIR I SPEND 200 DOLLARS A WEEK IN HERE AND YOU JUST LOST MY BUSINESS, YOU JACKASS!" and I flipped him the bird.

It felt good, because a hot guy had just walked into the store and heard my dramatic exit. But I was kind of bummed, because although it was satisfying to yell at that old man, I loved my cat pissy store, and I wasn't prepared to take my business elsewhere. I hate Duane Reade. The spending "$200 dollars a week" thing in there was a lie, but it's probably not too far off--for ten years, it had been a convenient and pleasant shopping experience, minus aforementioned back corner carpet odor, of course. So, I boycotted them for about 2 weeks. Maybe three. Until last week, Sunday and tonight. Just had to pick up a few little items, cat food and whatnot. But here's the thing, I'm not a scab, because the manager I brawled with doesn't even recognize me. Plus, I pull my hat down and run around the aisles quickly, always with my back to him. Maybe Toussaint would do things differently, but I'm still techincally boycotting. I'm boycotting eye contact.

Brilliant!