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  • Got Him Out Of A Pickle
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    5 Minutes And 9 Months

    | St. Louis, MO, USA |

    (The couple walked up to my line and the guy put his stuff on the belt first. Then, the girl put up a divider and her stuff.)

    Guy: “Sweetie, let me pay for your stuff.”

    Girl: “FINE!” *storms off*

    Me: *thinking to self* “What the #@&% is going on?”

    (I look at what she is purchasing and realize that the only thing she’s buying is a home pregnancy test.)

    Youth Is Wasted By The Old

    | Iowa, USA |

    (A very old lady, clearly hard of hearing and sight walks over to me.)

    Customer: “Young man! You don’t have any Canola Harvest butter on the shelf!”

    (I had stocked Canola Harvest margarine not 20 minutes earlier.)

    Me: “Are you sure? I was certain we had–”

    Customer: “You don’t have it. I already looked at your shelf.”

    Me: “They changed the label on the tub last week. You probably don’t recognize–”

    Customer: “I KNOW where it goes, young man. You don’t have it on the shelf!”

    Me: “Let’s go check one more time.”

    Customer: “You’re a buffoon, completely incapable! I need an adult… you should get me your manager!”

    (We arrive, I pull a tub of Canola Harvest off the shelf and hold it to her.)

    Me: “Here you go, ma’am. Canola Harvest.”

    Customer: “That’s NOT Canola Harvest! It comes in a white container! Get me your manager!”

    Me: *reading the tub* “Canola… Harvest. It’s a new label, is all.”

    Customer: “Oh, I see. You must’ve changed the label on me again. *laughs* You should’ve told me it was a different color, young man!”

    Me: *gun-finger-to-head*

    Nothin’ Like A Good Old Existential Meltdown

    | St. Andrews, Scotland, UK |

    (I’m confronted by a customer with an extremely high pitched voice and impenetrable Highland accent. This is one of those tiny old Scottish women with a headscarf nailed on and muscles like steel wires. They are a common sight in the East of Scotland, and are almost immortal. Only the slow action of the wind off the north sea will gradually erode them.)

    Me: “That will be £***, please.”

    Old Lady: “Areyenamerican?”

    Me: “I beg your pardon?”

    Old Lady: “Ah sid, are ye Namerican?”

    Me: “I’m sorry, I missed that.”

    Old Lady: “Are… ye… an… American?”

    Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I misheard you. No, I’m English.”

    Old Lady: “Oh… why?”

    (I have spent much of the last three years trying to come up with a satisfactory answer. As yet I have made no progress.)

    Time For A Tenth Circle Of H*ll

    , | Australia |

    (I was working checkout, in the express lane (15 items or less). A lady with a very full trolley comes up.)

    Lady: “Hi! Is this an express lane?”

    Me: “Yep. You might want to go through another–”

    Lady: *starts unloading stuff* “Good. I’m in a hurry.”

    Me: “?!”

    Always Right, Even With Other Customers

    , | Leeds, UK |

    (I’m a customer putting my groceries on the conveyor belt, and I realise I’ve forgotten one item. Half way through loading my stuff onto the conveyor, I stop, and sprint across the store to pick up this item. As I get back, two little old ladies have put a separator immediately behind my groceries.)

    Me: “I’m sorry, I’m not quite finished. I forgot an item.”

    Old lady: “Oh, it’s okay. I’ve just put this here.” *points at the separator*

    Me: “But I need more space for the rest of my groceries. Can you move your stuff back, please?”

    Till Assistant: “‘Scuse me, love, he’s not finished.”

    Old lady: “I KNOW! I’VE JUST PUT THIS HERE!” *points at the separator*

    Me & the till assistant: “Huh?”

    Old lady: “Oh, nevermind! We’ll go to another till! We can’t wait for HIM and HER to finish their rubbish!”

    *old lady storms off*

    (Seriously, WTF?)

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