(A dad and his children are in my checkout line. I’m ringing up items for the family when I hear his children talking to each other.)

8-year old son: “Want to hear a joke?

5-year old son: “Yeah!”

8-year old son: “Knock knock.”

5-year old son: “Who’s there?”

8-year old son: “Merry!”

5-year old son: “Merry who?”

8-year old son: “Merry, it’s almost Christmas!”

(I laugh.)

Dad: *looking at me and laughing too* “Yeah, I was wondering where he was going with that.”

(I’m shopping for Christmas ornaments when a woman and her husband walk into the store.)

Wife: “Look at this, this is a sin! They hardly have anything.”

Husband: “The Christmas section gets smaller and smaller each year. I barely saw any decorations in the store, either.”

Wife: *picking up an angel table topper* “This is just disrespectful. They should have another three or four kinds of trees!”

Husband: “I agree dear, this selection is disappointing. How are we supposed to properly celebrate with this?”

(They continue on like this for another 5-10 minutes. Finally, the woman storms up to me.)

Wife: “You! As a God fearing Christian, do you think this tiny little section is disrespectful to our Lord and Savior? How dare they not be respectful of our religious beliefs! We should go complain!”

Me: “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’m Pagan and I can never find any good Beltane decorations here.”

(She literally run from the seasonal section. I hear a security alarm a minute or two later. I think she forgot to pay for the angel that she never put down.)

Customer: “Can you help me find a movie? Your system confuses me.”

Me: “The alphabet?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

(An elderly gentleman selects a paintbrush and takes it to the counter.)

Customer: “Now, I don’t pay for items. I sing and dance on the table tops instead.”

Me: (I laugh, thinking he’s joking.) “That’s $1.19 please.”

Customer: “Well I reckon that’d be about a minute’s worth of singing.”

Me: *still thinking he’s joking* “Actually it’s $1.19 so it’s probably more like a minute and twenty seconds.”

(The customer then starts singing a monotone song – something about a cat. He is hobbling from side to side. I couldn’t help it; I just laughed until tears were running down my face.)

Customer: “That was verse one! There are 93 more!”

Me: “In that case I’ll just take the cash.”

(I witness this exchange between a customer and my manager.)

Manager: “I’m going to have to ask you to leave your backpack at the counter.”

Customer: “Don’t worry about it. My policy is not to shoplift when my friends can’t spare bail money.”

(The manager laughs and walks off, letting him keep his backpack.)

Child: “Daddy! Look at this!”

(The father comes over to find his child looking at an adult magazine.)

Father: *to me* “What the h*** is wrong with you? How can you let a 6-year-old boy look at this smut?!”

Me: *ringing up another customer* “Sir, I’m with another customer right now.”

Father: *waving the magazine in my face* “He is way too young for this! Why didn’t you stop him from looking at this?” *he starts screaming obscenities*

(My manager walks by as this is happening.)

Manager: “Sir, she is a cashier, not a babysitter. It is not her job to watch your child, it is yours. She was doing her job when you came up to scream at her. Now get out before I call the police.”

(The man looks embarrassed as he leads his son out. A minute later, he walks back in.)

Father: *mumbles* “I forgot my other son.”

Customer: “I’m looking for a book about a football player.”

Me: “Do you know the title or author?”

Customer: “It’s about a kid who plays football.”

Me: “Is it fiction or nonfiction?”

Customer: “Which is the real one?”

Me: “You mean which is a true story?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “Nonfiction books are true stories. Is it a biography or autobiography?”

Customer: *exasperated* “What’s the difference?”

Me: “Biographies are written by someone else about a person, autobiographies are written by the person themselves.”

Customer: “I doubt he wrote it; he’s a football player. Do you know how many hits those guys take to the head?!”

(A group of four teens come in to see an R rated movie. Two of the kids have ID revealing their age to be 17. The two girls have no ID. I am a manager and am called over to assist.)

Me: “What’s wrong here?”

Male Customer: “See, me and him have our IDs because I drove.” *points to girls* “They are 17. They just forgot their IDs.”

Me: “Well, you owe me $100.”

Customer: “What? No I don’t.”

Me: “Oh, so you don’t take my word for it? You don’t trust me.”

Girl Customer: “Hey, we are 17. We know the rules. We just forgot our IDs.”

Me: “If you knew the rules, then why didn’t you bring your IDs? I can’t sell you tickets, but can I suggest a PG-13 movie?”

Male Customer: “Hey wait, why do I owe you $100?!”