Sun's out, gut's out. (this started off quite succinct and then I got angrier and it got rantier and longer) I may quit my job and it will be because of fat people.  I had a lady come in today, a human sized one, very friendly, and ask me for a cup of boiling water so she could sterilise her baby's dummy, which made me realise that all of the people we go out of our way to help are the thin ones. Not because we hate fat people (although a few of us certainly do), but because the fat people are never polite. Ever: Our coffee machine doesn't produce tea, humans will come and ask us "do you do tea at all?" and if it's a quiet evening, I'll put the kettle on and make them a cup of tea in exchange for a donation to charity. Fats come in and shout across the shop "your machine doesn't do tea!" Needless to say, they don't get tea. People sometimes put £10/£20 of fuel in their car and bring in the exact notes, humans wait until I've verified which pump they're on before they leave, fats won't even wait in the queue, they'll just walk in through the exit, slam the notes on the counter and leave. We have a couple of disabled regulars; an elderly gentleman with a spinal problem who refuses help even when it's so bad he has to wear a neck brace, and a wheelchair-bound gentleman who proves you absolutely can work out if you're disabled whose car we fill up for him. Both are always incredibly polite. The other day a possibly used to be woman pulled up and glared at me as she got out of the car, filled up and eventually made her way up to the counter and demanded an explanation for the disabled sticker on the pump. I explained to her about the app that gives us a call to ask if we can go and assist with fuelling and she obviously didn't like that idea because she left in a huff with "well it's good I can still just about walk then." What exactly did you want from me? And of course, if a customer makes a mistake, we always hope it's not a fat one because then somehow it becomes our fault. I was shouted at a couple of months back by a spherical man because he put the wrong fuel in his car and he didn't want to pay to have someone come and syphon it out and clean his tank. Apparently, I should have seen what he was putting in and stopped it. Today I had a gentleman put the wrong fuel in and his reaction was "oh shit, that was stupid, what do I do now?" and when it was sorted, he came and thanked me for not letting him drive off. It's also almost always the fat ones who forget to let go of the pump when it clicks; humans will apologise for getting fuel on the ground, fats will demand they don't have to pay for what they spilt or not say anything at all. Some of the worst are the truck drivers. Obviously, if you're sitting in a hot truck for a couple of days you're not going to have access to proper shower facilities, but, with the assistance of deodorant, most of them manage to smell ok. There have been a few over the last couple of weeks, however, that we have seriously considered spraying air freshener at them (the manager thought this hilarious but probably not wise). One of them was a foreign driver who came in in shorts and a tank top that did nothing to conceal his stomach that was hanging over the edge of his shorts, and with him came a stench unlike anything I've ever smelled before, and I've been on camp with teenage boys who won't shower for a week. He smelled like he hadn't showered all the way from Poland to England; his very presence could curdle milk, kill flowers, and make unfortunate retail staff gag. I'm pretty sure decomposing bodies smell better. Another, a week prior, had come in a shirt that was more hole than material and done something so awful in our toilet that our delivery driver went in and came straight back out again with his shirt up over his nose trying not to gag. And there was the "man" so wide he could barely fit down the aisles (they're not the biggest but I can comfortably crouch down to fill shelves and have a human pass behind me without having to contort themselves into weird shapes to avoid hitting me), who we could smell the moment he walked through the door.  The crowning glory of fat stupidity and arrogance, however, has to be fat "women" who think they're right; today I had to ask a fully grown (in all directions) woman not to fill up her car with no shoes on. Seriously, don't walk around a petrol forecourt with no shoes on, there's all sorts of crap on it! Our toilet was "disgusting" apparently the other day so the customer, fat of course, demanded to use the staff toilet, got pissy when I told her we didn't have one as though she were expecting me to magic one out of my arse. The "disgusting" toilet was a wet floor where someone had splashed water out of the sink, and someone had left the toilet seat up. "Why don't you have X?!" is a common one, because it's my personal fault that I didn't order something or someone else has bought it, or that we just don't stock something. And the dieticians, they all appear to be dieticians. It's pretty much guaranteed that once a week a fat woman will say to me "oh you shouldn't be drinking that, it's full of chemicals that'll give you cancer, you'd be better off drinking the proper stuff" but apparently "I'm intolerant to sugar" doesn't translate into whatever language fats speak. When I first started I treated fat people like other people, I joked around with them and insulted them and I got filthy stares in response to comments that were jokes and replies about condishuns when I said how nice the weather was. Today a guy walked into the shop wearing socks with sandals so I told him he was a disgrace to humanity and he laughed and explained why he was wearing them together. Surprise surprise, not fat! If it weren't for my colleagues and the regular customers I enjoy talking to (and the money) I would just quit tomorrow. I always ask people if they want a second chocolate bar/bag of crisps/fizzy drink because they're on offer and a lot of the time they say "oh no, I shouldn't even be having this one" so I've taken to offering to take it away from fat people and watch their faces fill with horror as I slide it across the counter. So far no one has taken me up on this offer.