Hands Off The Merch(ant)

(I am working as a cashier at a fast food place during my senior year of high school. One day an older lady comes in with three grandchildren.)

Me: “Good morning! How can I help you?”

Customer: “Just a moment; let’s figure out what we want.”

(She proceeds to talk with the kids and argue about what they want for about five minutes before I finally have everything in the machine.)

Me: “All right, ma’am, if that’s all…”

(I put my hand out for her change and she grabs my hand.)

Me: “Uh…”

Customer: “Not so fast! I still have to order for me.”

(She continues to hold my hand for the duration of the order, even as I try to pull my hand back. Only at the end when she gets her money out do I get my hand released. Needless to say I kept my hands behind the counter for the rest of the order.)

Customer: “Here you are!”

(She apparently saw nothing wrong with what she did, and I was too polite to mention anything. All of my coworkers saw this and teased me for a month, asking where my “girlfriend” was.)