Featured Story:
  • Always Time For A Rhyme
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  • Enigmatic Espresso

    | Oxford, AL, USA |

    Me: “Welcome to ****, what can I get started for you today?”

    Customer: *in drive-thru* “I don’t know.”

    Me: “Er…would you like any suggestions?”

    Customer: “Well, I don’t know what it is I always get. My daughter usually gets it for me.”

    Me: “OK, no big deal. Was it hot or cold?”

    Customer: “Both.”

    Me: “…was it ‘coffee’ or ‘not coffee’?

    Customer: “Hmm…I believe it was both.”

    Me: “I’m gonna go grab my manager…just a moment!”

    Manager: “Hi there, could you please describe for me what you usually get?”

    Customer: “I don’t know! My daughter gets it for me every day!”

    Manager: “Let’s break it down further…was it a solid or a liquid?”

    Customer: “Both…”

    Cryogenic Chirpers

    | Springfield, IL, USA |

    (A customer is trying to find something else for her lizard to eat so she doesn’t need to buy live crickets so often.)

    Me: “Well, we do have this can of freeze-dried crickets. I don’t know how well your gecko will take to them, but it may be worth a shot?”

    Customer: “OK…so how do I bring them back to life? Add water?”

    Me: “No…they’re dead.”

    Hand Washing’s Heyday Is Gone

    | British Columbia, Canada |

    (I was bagging groceries at a till when this occured.)

    Me: “Would you like your meat wrapped in plastic?”

    Customer: “Why would I want that?”

    Me: “Well, it’s to prevent cross contamination. If your chicken were to leak, it could contaminate your beef.”

    Customer: “That’s bull!”

    Me: “Uh…what?”

    Customer: “Cross contamination doesn’t exist any more. It hasn’t for fifty years. Where have you been?”

    Me: “…”

    Friends Don’t Let Friends Drive Sunny Side Up

    | East Windsor, NJ, USA |

    (A woman returns to our car wash with a scowl on her face, 15 minutes after leaving. Note that she drives a black Beetle and it’s been 80 degrees with sunny skies for the past week.)

    Me: “Hi, welcome back!”

    Customer: “Yeah, I’d like to speak with your owner please.”

    Me: “He’s having a conference call right now. Is there something I can help you with?”

    Customer: “Yeah, my car is still dirty.”

    Me: “Oh, did the mud not wash off the back?”

    Customer: “There was no mud. The egg didn’t wash off the roof of my car.”

    Me: “Um, someone egged you car? How long has the egg been there?”

    Customer: “A week or so, but thats not the point. It didn’t wash off!”

    Me: “Ma’am, the egg is baked into your paint. It’s never going to wash off.”

    Customer: “What?! It’s just a f***ing egg! My car is not a g**d*** frying pan! It was some friends playing a joke… just wash it off!”

    Me: “Ma’am, the egg is baked on. You have to get it repainted. Whoever egged your car is no friend of yours.”

    (The customer suddenly gets very quiet and glares at me.)

    Customer: *whispers* “… Who have you been talking to?”

    (The customer points her finger at my face and begins to slowly back out the door. She then slowly sits in her car and drives off… without breaking her stare.)

    Pointless Paranoia, Meet Pistol Packin’

    | Rochester, NY, USA | Top

    (A young man asks for a ticket for an R-rated movie and hands me his ID. I’m about to sell him the ticket when the lady behind him speaks up.)

    Lady: “Wait! That picture in the ID doesn’t look like him at all!”

    (I look at the ID. It appears he’s been sick since the photo was taken, but it’s clearly the same guy.)

    Me: “Well, ma’am, I’m fairly certain that this is the correct ID. Now, if you’d just step up–”

    Lady: “No! You can’t sell to someone with a fake ID. He could be a terrorist, for God’s sake! You should call the police!”

    Me: “Ma’am, that is definitely not necessary. I am responsible for checking identification, and I–”

    Lady: “I need to talk to your manager!”

    (I begin to respond, but the guy politely waves me off and turns to the woman.)

    Man: “Miss, I have another photo ID here, with a more recent picture. Do you think this matches?”

    (He pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to her. She goes completely white.)

    Lady: “Well… um… yes, that’s, uh, fine!”

    (She squirms for a moment, then exclaims, “I’ll be right back!” She drops the card and leaves the theater in a hurry. I give the guy his ticket.)

    Me: “What was that you showed her?”

    Man: “Oh, my handgun permit.”

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