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    Get Yell Soon

    | USA | Bizarre

    (While standing near a store’s greeting card selection, I overhear this conversation between an older customer and an employee.)

    Customer: “Excuse me, I’m looking for a Father’s Day card to give to my son. However, you only have two here and they’re stupid.”

    Employee: “I’m sorry, but those are the only ones of that type of card that we have.”

    Customer: “But they’re stupid!”

    Employee: “I’m sorry, sir.”

    Customer: “You know what? You need to call your greeting card people and make them send you better cards! You know, we’re all growing older here and we have sons that have children. I want to give my son a Father’s Day card! What is wrong with you people?”

    Employee: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have any control over what the greeting card company sends us. We just display the cards they provide us with.”

    Customer: “Well, I’ll just have to go to [another store] then! Maybe they’ll have what I need!”

    Employee: “Feel free to do that, sir. However, I can tell you that they are supplied by the same company. They will have the same selection.”

    Customer: “This is ridiculous! I guess we’re just not supposed to get older, is that it?! We’re not allowed to age! You need to call your supplier and demand you get better stock!”

    Employee: “I’m sorry sir, we have no control over—”

    Customer: “CALL THEM! What an outrage! You are the rudest employee I’ve ever had to deal with! We’re just getting older! We should be allowed to get older! Call your company RIGHT NOW!”

    Employee: “Sir, if you just leave your name, I can tell my manager you have a complaint—”

    Customer: “NO! JUST CALL YOUR D*** COMPANY!” *angrily storms out*

    He’s No Slim Jim

    | Louisiana, USA | Awesome Customers, Top

    (I’m talking to a regular I’ve known since I was a kid—let’s just call him Jim—who is leaning against our drink counter and drinking a cappuccino. Note: “Jim” is 5’10 and a little over 200lbs, most of which is muscle from working on a logging crew. I notice there’s a smudge on my glasses so I take them off and begin wiping them on my shirt. Right at that moment, a customer walks in. I always greet my customers, so I squint at the person to make them out since I’m not wearing my glasses.)

    Me: “Good evening, sir.”

    Customer: “Well, you don’t have to give me such a dirty look!”

    Me: “What dirty look?”

    Customer: “When I walked in the door, you gave me a nasty look as if I was s*** on the bottom of your shoe!”

    Me: “No, I was squinting at you ’cause I couldn’t see.” *I point at my glasses* “I’m practically blind without these, and there was something on them. I was cleaning them when you walked in, so I had to squint to see you.”

    Customer: “Hmph! You’re just making excuses! You think you’re better than me, but you’re nothing but trash! Only trash works in places like this!”

    (At this point, Jim decides to speak up in my defense. Note that Jim has a VERY thick country-boy accent.)

    Jim: “You’d better apologize to her right now, mister.”

    Customer: “What?! What’d you say?”

    (Jim speaks slowly and clearly this time, so that his accent is less apparent.)

    Jim: “I said you’d better apologize to her right now.” *crosses his arms over his chest* “If you don’t, I’m gonna put my work boot up your a** and you’re gonna have to have it surgically removed!”

    Customer: *turns ash white* “I’m sorry, miss!” *leaves without buying anything*

    Blowing Smoke

    | Loveland, CO, USA | Criminal/Illegal

    (I’m working the register and smell the very distinct scent of cigarette smoke. I look up, and sure enough there’s a woman with a lit cigarette dangling casually from her hand.)

    Me: “Ma’am, Colorado law prohibits smoking in any public buildings, and we also have a policy against it. You can’t smoke in here.”

    Customer: “I am not smoking. The cigarette is!”

    Just Gender Role With It

    | New Berlin, WI, USA | Family & Kids, Top

    (I work in a gas station and am the only female employee that works the second shift on a regular basis. I have very short hair and am often mistaken for male if customers aren’t paying attention. Sometimes, it is a great source of amusement for me because it seems to bother them more than it bothers me. One early evening, a customer comes in with her little girl who is probably about 4.)

    Me: “Did you find everything all right?”

    Customer: “Yeah, just this and…” *to her daughter* “Did you find the candy you want, sweetie?”

    (I notice now that the little girl is giving me a horrified look as if I have just told her there is no Santa.)

    Customer’s Daughter: *starts pulling on her mother’s shirt* “Mommy! Mommy! Is that a boy or a girl?”

    (The mother ignores her, but the little girl continues to ask and gets progressively louder each time. I am finishing running her credit card and hand her the receipt. At the top of every receipt is the name of the cashier. The woman picks up her daughter who is now glaring at me and finally answers her after reading my obviously female name.)

    Customer’s Daughter: *now yelling so loud everyone in the store can hear* “MOMMY!!! IS IT A BOY OR A GIRL?!”

    Customer: “Shh! She’s a girl, sweetie. Now hush.”

    (I’m trying very hard not to laugh, as everyone in the store is now staring.)

    Me: “Mystery solved! Have a good—”

    Customer’s Daughter: *shrieking* “WHY DOES SHE HAVE SUCH SHORT HAIR?!”

    Customer: *turning six shades of red* “Because some women just like their hair to be short.”

    (The customer’s daughter turns to me and points accusingly.)

    Customer’s Daughter: “YOU! You shouldn’t have such short hair! Girls have long hair! DUH!”

    (After the woman has left with her boisterous, opinionated child in tow, a regular customer comes to my register.)

    Regular: *jokingly* “Well, hello again, young man! Having a good evening?”

    Practice Sweet Unadulterated Moderation

    | North Carolina, USA | Family & Kids, Food & Drink

    (A mom, dad, and two small children walk in. The boy sees some of the fresh fruit we keep at the counter and asks for a banana.)

    Dad: *to son* “No, you’ve had too much fruit today!”

    Mom: *to son* “Yeah, go get some candy instead!”

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