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    Her Son Is The Eggs-pert

    | TX, USA | At The Checkout, Crazy Requests, Food & Drink

    (An elderly lady comes in, whom we all call ‘Egg Lady’. She always complains about how we bag her eggs. We used to bag them in a single bag for her. As that’s wasteful, we tried putting bread on top of the eggs, but she complained that the bread cracks the eggs. It’s gotten bad enough that the manager now makes a point of ringing her up, bagging her stuff, and carrying her bags outside. She comes in the day after Thanksgiving to buy 10 cartons of eggs, and comes to my register.)

    Me: “Oh, Mrs. [Name], let me call the manager.”

    (I call him over to register, and then make some small talk.)

    Me: “How was your Thanksgiving?”

    Egg Lady: “It was nice this time. My family came in, and my son bought me four cartons of eggs. I don’t know how he does it, but he must buy some of those government eggs.”

    Me: “Government eggs?”

    (The manager has come over, and is checking her out. I move to his register to log on, and check out others. The manager takes care to place the cartons one on top of the other, but is called off by another associate. Egg Lady notices I have no customers.)

    Egg Lady: “I don’t have time to wait. My son and his family are expecting breakfast. You can help me load these in the car.”

    Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

    (I turn off my light and go to help her.)

    Egg Lady: “Yep, my son told me how he got these eggs from the government. They are genetically mutating chickens to make stronger egg shells now with all these vitamins inside of them. Only problem is that sometimes the eggs are coming out green.”

    (I just smile and nod as I start to put the egg cartons in her trunk with care.)

    Me: “It’s interesting what they’ll come out with nowadays.”

    Egg Lady: “I might buy some of those government eggs next time. I hear you can smash them against the wall and they won’t break.”

    Me: “I wonder how you crack them open, then.”

    (She suddenly glares at me, and yanks the last bag out of my hand.)

    Egg Lady: “How dare you laugh at me! I’m going to report you to your manager! My son told me that he had government eggs, and you’re going to mock me. If I were your mother, I’d spank your behind!”

    Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am; I wasn’t meaning to laugh at you. I was just thinking out loud.”

    Egg Lady: “I’m going to tell my son about you, so he can prove to you that there are government eggs.”

    (She throws the last carton in, and slams the trunk. This knocks over a small crate she has in there. I hear the crunch of it hitting the eggs. The manager comes outside just as she’s peeling off in a huff.)

    Manager: “She’s coming back tomorrow, isn’t she?”

    Me: “Yep. I’m calling in sick tomorrow, so I don’t have to watch her crack all of our eggs to find the government ones.”