Bottle, Bottle, On The Wall, Who Is The Dumbest Of Them All

(A customer half staggers inside.)

Customer: “Excuse me mate, where are ya’ beers?”

(I indicate to the left of the till where our alcohol aisle is. I suspect that he might already be intoxicated. I tell him where the alcohol section is, but keep a close eye on him. The customer wanders slowly up the aisle, inspecting our cans and bottles of cheap alcohol. He makes it all the way to the end before stopping. There, he proceeds to stand, facing into the corner, as if he is taking a leak. I get out from behind the till and approach him.)

Me: “Are you alright?”

(The customer jumps, startled, and turns to face me. His eyes are bloodshot, yet he doesn’t smell of alcohol.)

Customer: “Oh yeah! I’m glad you’re here. You see, I want to get these beers here.”

(He points to some beers that he can see on the top shelf in the corner. He paws, like a cat at the glass separating him from the beers.)

Customer: “I can’t get to ’em. So, I was wondering if you could just go in the back, go around, and get ’em for me?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. You want me to get… those beers?”

Customer: “Yeah! That’s the ones. So, like, if you could just… go around and get them.”

(I stare at him blankly for a couple of seconds, then decide to release the customer of his misery.)

Me: “Mate… that’s a mirror.”