(A father and grandfather walk in. The father is holding a little boy.)
Father: “Do you have clothes for his size?”
Me: “I’m sure we do. What size is he?”
(The father looks confused for a moment. Suddenly, he holds his child out to me.)
Father: “This size!”
(An elderly gentleman approaches me at the counter.)
Me: “How may I help you, sir?”
Customer: “My butt hurts! I need medicine!”
Me: “All right, do you have a prescription? Or, can you tell me what exactly is wrong so that I can recommend you something that doesn’t need one?”
Customer: “I don’t know what’s wrong. But my butt hurts!”
Me: “Please go see a doctor then, sir. Without knowing what causes your pain, there’s little I can do.”
Customer: “But I don’t want to wait at the doctor’s together with all the sick people! I’ll catch a disease or something!”
Me: “That’s understandable. Maybe you could go early in the morning when fewer people are there?”
Customer: “No! I don’t want to! I want you to tell me what’s wrong! Look at my butt!”
Me: “Sorry, sir, but we don’t do that–”
(The man doesn’t listen. In front of me and three other customers, he drops his pants and underwear, turns around, and sticks out his butt in my direction.)
Me: “Sir, please pull up your pants again! I can’t tell what’s wrong and you will have to leave if you don’t stop that!”
Customer: “Nonsense! If you can’t tell what’s wrong from over there, come closer and get a better look!”
(My boss then comes to look at what’s going on and ends up kicking the guy out.)
Customer: *on the way out the door* “Why will no one look at my butt?!”
(I work in a specialty bookstore. We have a number of plush toys from various science-fiction series around the store. A man walks in with his 3-4 year old daughter. He leaves her by the counter while he looks at books. She proceeds to ask what all the toys in the store are. She points at the Xenomorph by the register.)
Little Girl: “What’s that?”
Me: “It’s a Xenomorph. They’re from the movie Aliens.”
Little Girl: “They pop from your tummy!”
Me: “Chest, actua–wait, how do you know that?!”
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(My boyfriend and I are outside a video game store, arguing playfully over who would say the “L” word first. We are both refusing to give in.)
Me: “I think I’ll sell that game. I could use the money to pay some bills.”
Boyfriend: “No, you can’t sell the game. That game’s awesome!”
Me: “I’m selling it.”
Boyfriend: “If I didn’t love you so much, I’d strangle you right now!”
Me: *pointing and laughing* “You said it! Ha!”
Boyfriend: “Oh, crap! Is it to late to take it back?”
Me: “Yep, no take-backsies.”
(I am an American citizen living and working as a legal Canadian resident.)
Customer: “It’s too bad that you can’t leave to vote, or do they let you do that here?”
Me: “I can’t vote. I’m not a citizen.”
(The customer’s jaw drops.)
Customer: “Wow! Where are you from?”
Me: “The US.”
Customer: “Well, I never would have guessed. You look just like one of us!”
(He gestures to himself and his shopping companion.)
Me: “Uh, thanks?”
This story is part of our “Where are you from?” roundup!
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