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    Dinner Without A Show Is No Dinner At All

    | Buffalo, NY, USA |

    (I’m cashing out a customer and bagging his groceries.)

    Me: “And what’s in your bakery bag, sir?”

    Customer: “A cantaloupe. I put it in there to get ripe.”

    Me: “OK…”

    Customer: “You know what they do in California? They JUGGLE the fruit – the cantaloupes and the mangoes and the apples and such.”

    Me: “Oh, that must be neat to see–”

    Customer: “YOU SHOULD DO THAT!”

    Me: *laughing* “That’d be interesting, but I don’t know how to juggle.”

    Customer: “You mean to tell me you can’t juggle this fruit?”

    Me: “I’m afraid not…”

    Customer: “Then take the cantaloupe off. I don’t want it if you won’t juggle it for me.”

    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: “…”

    It’s One Big Greasy Conspiracy

    | Santa Fe, NM, USA |

    Customer: “Ugh! Everything you make here has canola oil in it. Don’t you know that’s not even food? It’s made from rapeseed, which isn’t even edible!”

    Me: “While it’s true you can’t actually eat the plant, canola oil itself is–”

    Customer: “It’s all genetically modified. You can’t get canola oil that isn’t genetically modified.”

    Me: “Actually, the canola oil we use comes from a company called Spectrum that–”

    Customer: “Spectrum!? That’s an Illuminati company!”

    Me: “Let me get my manager for you…”

    A Vanessa By Any Other Name

    | Ontario, Canada |

    (As I’m ringing an elderly lady’s groceries through, she reads my name tag incorrectly.)

    Customer: “Vanessa…Vanessa! That’s such a lovely name.”

    Me: “Oh? Yeah, it is.”

    Customer: “Vanessa! Vanessa! Vanessa! Vanessa!”

    Me: “It’s great, but I’m not–”

    Customer: “Your mother has such good taste! Van-ESSA!”

    Me: “Thank you, but–”

    Customer: “I bet, when you were young, she’d say things like ‘Vanessa! Get over here! You’re such a naughty girl!’”

    Me: “Um, something like that…”

    Customer: “Well, you have a great day Vanessa!”

    Stupidity On Tap

    | Durham, NC, USA |

    (I get a phone call at about 8:00pm on a weeknight. The caller is a young man, and in the background I hear music and hysterical giggling.)

    Caller: “What time do y’all close?”

    Me: “9 o’clock tonight.”

    Caller: “Oh s***! Umm…OK, can you just ring me up for a keg with my credit card, and then leave it outside?”

    Me: “…the keg?”

    Caller: “Yeah.”

    Me: “No.”

    Caller: “What? Why?!”

    Me: “…for a variety of reasons.”


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