Cunts that count their change at the last possible moment when paying for something

[Guest Bill Stickers]

Every fucking day. EVERY FUCKING DAY!

Why do I always end up queuing behind some fuck-witted individual who, despite being on this planet for several decades, hasn't realised that they can remove their wallet from their coat pocket, and count up their change, BEFORE the very last moment of a transaction?

There was SO MUCH TIME between when they looked at the price of a product, picked it up from the shelf, walked to the counter, queued at the counter, placed it on the counter, and watched the shop assistant scan it and bag it.

But no. God no. These cunts have to wait until the assistant looks at them and says "£2,99" please. Only then do they start fumbling in every fucking pocket for their tattered old purse. Then, with trembling hands, they dally around for what seems like eternity, dropping shrapnel all over the fucking place and miscounting their coppers.

Sometimes they even resign themselves to the magnitude of the task, laugh as if it's forgivable, and dump all their change on the counter, asking the poor cunt on minimum wage to count it for them. Meanwhile, behind them often stand dozens of functional human beings - wallet, note, coins or credit card at the ready, to complete the task they are fully aware they are undertaking.

This nom also applies for people who buy the same fucking drink in the same fucking pub every fucking day. The landlord always charges you for your drink. He's never let you have it for free. The price of the pint has very rarely, if ever changed. You always buy the same drink. ERGO, HAVE THE FUCKING USUAL AMOUNT OF MONEY READY YOU FUCKING DRY LUNCH!

 

Edited May 20, 2015 by bill_stickers

[Eddie]

Every fucking day. EVERY FUCKING DAY!

Why do I always end up queuing behind some fuck-witted individual who, despite being on this planet for several decades, hasn't realised that they can remove their wallet from their coat pocket, and count up their change, BEFORE the very last moment of a transaction?

There was SO MUCH TIME between when they looked at the price of a product, picked it up from the shelf, walked to the counter, queued at the counter, placed it on the counter, and watched the shop assistant scan it and bag it.

But no. God no. These cunts have to wait until the assistant looks at them and says "£2,99" please. Only then do they start fumbling in every fucking pocket for their tattered old purse. Then, with trembling hands, they dally around for what seems like eternity, dropping shrapnel all over the fucking place and miscounting their coppers.

Sometimes they even resign themselves to the magnitude of the task, laugh as if it's forgivable, and dump all their change on the counter, asking the poor cunt on minimum wage to count it for them. Meanwhile, behind them often stand dozens of functional human beings - wallet, note, coins or credit card at the ready, to complete the task they are fully aware they are undertaking.

This nom also applies for people who buy the same fucking drink in the same fucking pub every fucking day. The landlord always charges you for your drink. He's never let you have it for free. The price of the pint has very rarely, if ever changed. You always buy the same drink. ERGO, HAVE THE FUCKING USUAL AMOUNT OF MONEY READY YOU FUCKING DRY LUNCH!

 

I was with you up until the dry lunch quote, to Ray fackin caant Winstone 

[Jiggerycock]

This transaction may also be garnished with a side-order of club-card proffering, money-off voucher cashing and general social chit-chat having, to send your blood pressure ever more skywards.

[Guest Bill Stickers]

Another variant of these types has sprung to mind.

Cunts who go up to a bar, and order 1 Carling, or equally appalling choice of beverage. The barman pours it, walks back over and asks if they want anything else, only to be then told "another Carling mate", repeated ad nauseam.

[Rick_B]

A bloke I know who is a bar manager told me the thing they hate on a large order is when right at the end the customer says "oh and three pints of Guinness". It's a real time waster because it takes ages to settle, so if you want to be popular down your local order the Guinness first.

[Decimus]

Spot on, Stickers. Another pet hate is walking into a shop to be confronted with a tattoed, shaven headed, and wall eyed cunt behind the counter. You wouldn't trust them as far as you could throw them, but they have the god damn fucking audacity to check the note you're paying with to a counterfeit light check, like you're the minimum wage cunt on parole and not them.

[Ape™️]

Good nom 'stickers. Combine this activity with using a massive handful of screwed up money off vouchers, of 2p denomination, and you have successfully created my idea of hell on earth. Burn the cunts to death.

[Guest Bill Stickers]

A bloke I know who is a bar manager told me the thing they hate on a large order is when right at the end the customer says "oh and three pints of Guinness". It's a real time waster because it takes ages to settle, so if you want to be popular down your local order the Guinness first.

​This is certainly true. However, if you're a real scummer you can use this knowledge to your advantage.

Go into a busy pub, order a massive round, and then at the end say innocently, "5 Guinness as well please chap, I'll come back for them once I've carried these to my table".

Go round the corner with your chums, neck the whole round and fuck off while he's still watching the black stuff settle.

[Cuntybaws]

One day everyone will have contactless payment capability on their bank cards or smartphones (or government-implanted tracking chips) and I confidently predict that every cunt on here will complain about that too.

Cunts Corner is a cunt.

[camberwell gypsy]

What freezes my urine is being behind some fucker at our local post office (one of those that operate from a small corner shop) and starts having a fucking conversation with them after they've conducted their business "hows your neice Mr Singh? Ooh my daughter Junie etc etc" even Mr Singh doesn't want to hear this banal shit either. Or when you're behind one of the yanks who live here pulling out shitloads of parcels from a fuck off huge bag to send to all points of the compass on America when all I want is a book of stamps

[scotty]

Spot on, Stickers. Another pet hate is walking into a shop to be confronted with a tattoed, shaven headed, and wall eyed cunt behind the counter. You wouldn't trust them as far as you could throw them, but they have the god damn fucking audacity to check the note you're paying with to a counterfeit light check, like you're the minimum wage cunt on parole and not them.

The mouth breathing cunt is checking out the notes because he assumes every other cunt uses fake ones, just like he does. 

[scotty]

What freezes my urine is being behind some fucker at our local post office (one of those that operate from a small corner shop) and starts having a fucking conversation with them after they've conducted their business "hows your neice Mr Singh? Ooh my daughter Junie etc etc" even Mr Singh doesn't want to hear this banal shit either. Or when you're behind one of the yanks who live here pulling out shitloads of parcels from a fuck off huge bag to send to all points of the compass on America when all I want is a book of stamps

...or some cunt that sells stuff on ebay and has a boot full of fucking parcels to send.

[Eddie]

Take away delivery drivers do the same routine no matter what take away you order from. Arrive at the door, you pay them and await your change. I don't mind a quid or 2 as a tip but when you are waiting  for nearly a fiver in change, the games begin. Firstly they forget what pocket the 'change bag' is in, after 1 minute of searching they find it and then very slowly start counting out your change. Obviously the change bag only has 30p in it so back to the pocket searching, all this time you have the smell of the takeaway playing havoc with your nostrils, this stage is followed by the begrudgingly 'don't worry about it mate', bingo a near enough 5 quid tip. Cunts do me everytime.

[Guest Snatch]

Take away delivery drivers do the same routine no matter what take away you order from. Arrive at the door, you pay them and await your change. I don't mind a quid or 2 as a tip but when you are waiting  for nearly a fiver in change, the games begin. Firstly they forget what pocket the 'change bag' is in, after 1 minute of searching they find it and then very slowly start counting out your change. Obviously the change bag only has 30p in it so back to the pocket searching, all this time you have the smell of the takeaway playing havoc with your nostrils, this stage is followed by the begrudgingly 'don't worry about it mate', bingo a near enough 5 quid tip. Cunts do me everytime.

​Keep some change handy next time Eddie and give the cunt the exact amount.

[Guest Snatch]

What freezes my urine is being behind some fucker at our local post office (one of those that operate from a small corner shop) and starts having a fucking conversation with them after they've conducted their business "hows your neice Mr Singh? Ooh my daughter Junie etc etc" even Mr Singh doesn't want to hear this banal shit either. Or when you're behind one of the yanks who live here pulling out shitloads of parcels from a fuck off huge bag to send to all points of the compass on America when all I want is a book of stamps

​A wheel nicking opportunity missed there Gyps.

[Guest Bill Stickers]

Had to deal with another one of these cunts queuing in front of me today. The look on her face as the person behind the till asked for money was one of slight shock.

How the fuck do these cunts function at all, if they can't preempt this kind of thing?

Are they forgetting that they need to shit, and just walking around with boxers full of arse gravy?

If only they'd forget to breathe.

[White Cunt]

Every fucking day. EVERY FUCKING DAY!

Why do I always end up queuing behind some fuck-witted individual who, despite being on this planet for several decades, hasn't realised that they can remove their wallet from their coat pocket, and count up their change, BEFORE the very last moment of a transaction?

There was SO MUCH TIME between when they looked at the price of a product, picked it up from the shelf, walked to the counter, queued at the counter, placed it on the counter, and watched the shop assistant scan it and bag it.

But no. God no. These cunts have to wait until the assistant looks at them and says "£2,99" please. Only then do they start fumbling in every fucking pocket for their tattered old purse. Then, with trembling hands, they dally around for what seems like eternity, dropping shrapnel all over the fucking place and miscounting their coppers.

Sometimes they even resign themselves to the magnitude of the task, laugh as if it's forgivable, and dump all their change on the counter, asking the poor cunt on minimum wage to count it for them. Meanwhile, behind them often stand dozens of functional human beings - wallet, note, coins or credit card at the ready, to complete the task they are fully aware they are undertaking.

This nom also applies for people who buy the same fucking drink in the same fucking pub every fucking day. The landlord always charges you for your drink. He's never let you have it for free. The price of the pint has very rarely, if ever changed. You always buy the same drink. ERGO, HAVE THE FUCKING USUAL AMOUNT OF MONEY READY YOU FUCKING DRY LUNCH!

 

No offence there, BS, but are you and those other gits still stuck in the fucking stone age? This is the age of easy credit - or what's left of it. A touch/no pin required-I-nick-this-fuckall-secured-card-and-pay everywhere until money of this sucker is really and truly gone - is now fully mandatory for a high-tech professional in the 21st century world. Adapt. Please.

[Guest Bill Stickers]

No offence there, BS, but are you and those other gits still stuck in the fucking stone age? This is the age of easy credit - or what's left of it. A touch/no pin required-I-nick-this-fuckall-secured-card-and-pay everywhere until money of this sucker is really and truly gone - is now fully mandatory for a high-tech professional in the 21st century world. Adapt. Please.

Not at all. I regularly pay by card. I'm only 24 too, so not an old git, although I am fucking miserable, I'll give you that.

I think you've missed the point. I'm talking about the kind of fucking cretins who get to the till, and then have to be instructed to get their card out. IT'S TIME TO PAY FOR SOMETHING, HAVE THE FUCKING PLASTIC READY YOU CUNT.

[White Cunt]

Not at all. I regularly pay by card. I'm only 24 too, so not an old git, although I am fucking miserable, I'll give you that.

I think you've missed the point. I'm talking about the kind of fucking cretins who get to the till, and then have to be instructed to get their card out. IT'S TIME TO PAY FOR SOMETHING, HAVE THE FUCKING PLASTIC READY YOU CUNT.

I am sorry I have mixed you with the tin-people. It's not acceptable to have those bean-counters at large.

[Guest deebom]

It's the same set of immutable laws that require females to have touched and stroked at least 500 types of different fabrics before buying that dress that they saw in the first shop they went to that morning.

The same laws also require that when queuing in a busy pub, the cunt in front of you must order 15 cocktails and something the pub doesn't stock.

[Guest]

Spot on, Stickers. Another pet hate is walking into a shop to be confronted with a tattoed, shaven headed, and wall eyed cunt behind the counter. You wouldn't trust them as far as you could throw them, but they have the god damn fucking audacity to check the note you're paying with to a counterfeit light check, like you're the minimum wage cunt on parole and not them.

Fuck me, your local Tesco sounds like a rough place. 

[Guest luke swarm]

It's the same set of immutable laws that require females to have touched and stroked at least 500 types of different fabrics before buying that dress that they saw in the first shop they went to that morning.

The same laws also require that when queuing in a busy pub, the cunt in front of you must order 15 cocktails and something the pub doesn't stock.

its coffee normally Deeb. Wankers drinking coffee in pubs....how did it come to this

[Rick_B]

I know someone who is a bar manager and customers who leave it right to the end of a big order to say "oh...and three pints of Guinness" are in the same category. It's also a favourite with people who are going to do a runner without paying. Take the other drinks back to a table which isn't in site from the bar, neck the lot quickly and do a runner while the bar staff are still farting around waiting for the Guinness to settle.

[camberwell gypsy]

 

You do realise that every takeaway in your area Ed will be inundated with every Syrian refugee who makes it to this country wanting a delivery job because of your weakness.

It's the same set of immutable laws that require females to have touched and stroked at least 500 types of different fabrics before buying that dress that they saw in the first shop they went to that morning.

The same laws also require that when queuing in a busy pub, the cunt in front of you must order 15 cocktails and something the pub doesn't stock.

I usually buy the first dress I see. I dont fanny around, me!

[Neil]

I was with you up until the dry lunch quote, to Ray fackin caant Winstone 

you were with him until the last 2 words?? Sort yourself out Eddie you dozy fucker,me?,I fell asleep before I got to the end,I was impressed that Sticks can type that much whilst drooling,sitting in a chair wearing a straight jacket,put on him after his  recent lobotomy.sharpen up you pair of cunts