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    Bad News About Your Doppelganger

    | London, UK |

    Customer: *to his wife* “My God. This girl looks just like that one in the paper today, on the front page. Don’t you think?”

    Customer’s Wife: “I don’t know, maybe a little bit.”

    Customer: “Yes. She’s dead though.”

    Me: “…”

    Customer: *to me* “Has anyone ever told you that? I bet you get it all the time. You look just like that girl who died parachuting.”

    Me: “Well sir, she’s only in the papers today because she died yesterday. I don’t think anybody knew who she was before.”

    Customer: “Well, you look so much like her. Careful you don’t run into any of her relatives, now!”

    Thanks For Clearing That Up

    | Taylor, MI, USA |

    (I notice a female customer shoving a few acne treatments into her purse.)

    Me: “Excuse me, miss; you’re going to have to pay for those.”

    Customer: “For what?”

    Me: “For the treatments you just shoved into your purse.”

    Customer: *sounding offended* “I did no such thing!”

    Me: “Fine. Will you please show me there aren’t any stolen items in your bag?”

    Customer: “No! You’re only doing this because I’m ugly!”

    Me: “…what?”

    Customer: “I can’t believe an ugly person can’t go out into public anymore without be accused of stealing!”

    Me: “…”

    Customer: “I’m never coming here again! *storms out, setting off the alarm and alerting security*

    Co-worker: “Maybe we should have just let her have them.”

    It’s Best To Not Get Involved

    | New Haven, CT, USA |

    (I’m putting up price tags, and a woman is heard screaming on her phone off in the distance.)

    Customer: “Why can’t I ever make you happy? Nothing I ever do for you is enough…. WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU? YOU’RE NEVER HAPPY!”

    (She stops at the condoms section; the section I’m working on at the time, and grabs a 30-pack of condoms.)

    Customer: “You know what? I’m getting condoms at ****. BE READY WHEN I GET HOME.” *storms off*

    Pepsi With A Hint Of Levis

    | Worcester, MA, USA |

    (A customer places a 2 liter bottle of soda down at the end of the conveyor belt. When the conveyor belt, moves the bottle falls over and the cap shatters; the soda leaks all over my pants.)

    Me: “Sir, you’re going to have to get another bottle if you still want to buy the soda.”

    Customer: “But I wanted that bottle!”

    Me: “Well, then… I’ll just squeeze the soda from my pants back into the bottle for you.”

    Confessions Of A Teenage Bagger

    | Frankfort, KY, USA |

    (I’m a 17 year old bag boy at a local grocer. I’m finishing up an order when the customer, a middle-aged woman, walks uncomfortably close to me and stares at my curly hair.)

    Me: “How are you doing this evening, ma’am?”

    Customer: “I love your hair.”

    Me: “Uh… thanks. I kind of hate it, to be honest.”

    Customer: “I just want to go barefooted and romp around in it like I was in a meadow.”

    Me: “… have a good day, ma’am.”

    Customer: “Bye!”

    (She winks. I shudder.)

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