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  • September Theme Of The Month: Overheard!

    Category: Family & Kids

    Cereal Bad Parenting

    | Omaha, NE, USA | Bad Behavior, Family & Kids

    (A coworker is helping a woman find a roast for a dinner party. She isn’t paying any attention to her kid; he has decided to start using the cereal boxes on display as his own punching bags, knocking down part of the stack and stomping on it. I walk over to where she’s talking to my coworker and wait for a pause in the conversation.)

    Me: “Ma’am, could you ask your son to stop kicking the display, please?”

    (The customer looks over at her kid and rolls her eyes, going over and yanking his arm pretty harshly before dragging him over to me.)

    Customer: “What should his punishment be?”

    Me: “What?”

    Customer: “What should his punishment be? If you want to be the f***** parent, be the f****** parent. I don’t appreciate your tone, you little s***.”

    Me: “I’m—”

    Manager: *walking over* “Ma’am, your son was destroying store property. We can’t sell the cereal when the boxes and bags are open. I’d like for you to apologize to my employee. Your roast comes at $45.76 and a quick estimate on the cereal makes your total bill today around $80.”

    Customer: “F****** a**-hole. I’m not paying for that because your stupid high-schooler got an attitude with me.”

    Manager: “Ma’am, even if that were true, he didn’t break open the boxes of cereal. That was your son.”

    Customer: “Whatever.”

    (She now is banned until she pays for the cereal.)

    Owning The Conversation

    | USA | At The Checkout, Family & Kids, Liars & Scammers

    (The customer is in her early 20s.)

    Customer: “Why can’t you sell me what I want?”

    Me: “Because we ran out of muffins.”

    Customer: “That’s not good enough. Make some more.”

    Me: “We cannot do that as we’re closing in an hour. You can come in tomorrow”.

    Customer: “I’m the owner’s daughter. Call him.”

    (The original owner is a 60 year old man who has just transferred his business to one of his daughters. He has a second daughter, Sarah, who I never met and don’t know what she looks like.)

    Me: “You mean the last owner?”

    Customer: “No, the current one.”

    Me: “Then it’s not possible.”

    Customer: “What are you talking about?”

    Me: “Well, the current owner is 27 years old.”

    Customer: “Oh, then I’m her sister.”

    Me: “You’re Sarah?”

    Customer: “Who?”

    Me: “Okay, I don’t think so. You’re not related. Come back tomorrow for muffins.”

    Customer: “D***. This worked at one store at least. That was a year ago..”

    Me: “…”

    Enough To Furrow Your Brows

    | USA | Family & Kids, Health & Body, Rude & Risque

    (I’m a transporter pushing patients to surgery. I pick up a 17-year-old boy with his family. They’re all nervous, but the boy deals with his anxiety by being rude to his parents. He starts in on the vertical creases between his dad’s eyebrows.)

    Boy: “Ha! That looks like a [crude term for female genitalia]. You’ve got a [kitty cat] on your forehead!”

    (He goes on like this for several minutes as his profanity gets worse and worse.)

    Mom: *finally* “Stop it! You’re embarrassing me and the transporter!”

    Boy: *belligerent* “Why? She’s got one!”

    (I’ve finally had enough. I lean down and tell him, loud enough for his parents to hear:)

    Me: “You keep using language like that and that’s as close to a real one as you’ll ever get.”

    (There was stunned silence from the entire family. Then the parents started cracking up.)

    Wining And Fining

    | Vail, CO, USA | Family & Kids, Food & Drink, Underaged

    (A group of twenty-somethings and their parents walks in to our apres ski bar. They order tapas and drinks. Our ski town just endured a weeklong series of under-aged drinking busts, so establishments are being extra cautious.)

    Woman: “Sweetie, you should pick a wine.”

    Girl: “I don’t know. I kind of feel like hot chocolate.”

    Woman: “No, it’s a special occasion. Get a drink.”

    Waitress: “May I get you something?”

    Girl: “Oh, sure. May I please have a mulled wine?”

    Waitress: “Sure. I just need to see some ID.”

    Girl: “Oh, I just had my license renewed, and I left my new temporary paper one in my hotel. I’m 25. I have a copy of my passport on my phone, but I totally understand if you can’t serve me. Actually, forget it. May I just have a hot cocoa?”

    Woman: “Oh, can’t you just get her her hot wine? She really is 25. I’m her mother.”

    Waitress: “Unfortunately, there have been a lot of police busts recently, and they use all sorts of tricks to try to get us to bend the law. We have to be uber-safe right now. I really can’t serve anybody who looks under 30 without a real ID.”

    Man: *leaning in* “I’m her father; it’s okay.”

    Waitress: “Unfortunately, we really can’t take your word for it. I’m so sorry. So, you wanted cocoa?”

    Man: *reddening* “No, that is not okay! This is ridiculous. This is what this country is coming to. Everything is so correct these days. I’m her father. She’s here with her parents and our geezer friends.”

    Girl: “Dad, It’s fine. Really.”

    Man: “No, it is bloody well not fine. Give me your room key. I’m getting your ID. You have your passport in your room?”

    Girl: “In the nightstand. But, Dad, really, I don’t really want a drink.”

    Man: “No! I will not have these politically correct minions dictate my life to me. You’re my daughter, and if I say you can drink, you can drink.”

    (The daughter reluctantly hands the man her hotel key, although she’s quite pink. The man storms off.)

    Girl: *to waitress* “I’m so sorry. You’re getting a big tip. He’s going to get an ulcer if he doesn’t start meditating, or something.”

    (The man returned as the group was finishing their second drinks and preparing to leave. The man marched the passport over to the waitress and insisted that she bring the girl a drink. The whole group had to sit there with their coats on and watch while the embarrassed girl slurped down her piping hot mulled wine.)

    Doesn’t Quite Swear By That DVD Player

    | Vancouver, BC, Canada | At The Checkout, Family & Kids, Food & Drink, Language & Words

    (I work at a store that doesn’t do refunds. If a customer wants to return an item, we can only offer to exchange it for the exact same item, or give store credit to put towards a new purchase.)

    Customer: “Hi, I’d like to return this DVD player. It no longer works.”

    Me: “Sure. Would you like to do a straight exchange, or would you like a store credit?”

    Customer: “Straight exchange, please. I really like this DVD player, and I’d really like another one like it.”

    Me: “All right, just let me see if we have any in stock.”

    (I do a search on my computer, and we show zero in stock. I even check with the stockroom staff to verify this.)

    Me: “Sir, I’m afraid to say this, but we no longer have this DVD player in stock.”

    Customer: “Are you sure?”

    Me: “I’m absolutely sure. There aren’t any on the shelves, the computer says we have zero, and there aren’t any in the back. We’re all tapped out, I’m afraid.”

    Customer: “Aw, s***!”

    (Both the customer and I notice that there’s a small child next to us, and he heard the whole thing.)

    Customer: “Uh, I mean poo-poo caca. Aw, poo-poo caca, I can’t believe you ran out of my favorite DVD player. Can you check to see if any other locations might still have it? I’m sorry to ask you this, but I really like this DVD player.”

    Me: “Sure thing. Which location is the nearest to you?”

    Customer: “Can you try [Location #1]?”

    Me: “Certainly.”

    (I dial the number to Location #1 to make my inquiry.)

    Me: “I just got off the phone with [Location #1]. They don’t have it either.”

    Customer: “Poo-poo caca. Can you try [Location #2]?”

    (I phone up Location #2.)

    Me: “They don’t have it either.”

    Customer: “Aw, poo-poo caca. Can you try [Location #3]?”

    Me: “Okay…”

    (This went on for four more locations, and they all don’t have the very specific DVD player that my customer is looking for. Every time I told him the bad news, he responded with “poo-poo caca.”)

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