I Am, Like The Flyer, Going Through Some Weird Changes

, , , | Right | November 2, 2019

(I’m working a late shift at the cash register on a pretty nondescript evening. A customer comes up, and I start checking him out.)

Customer: *mumbles* “Flyer changed.” *mumbles*

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: *mumbles* “Flyer changed.” *mumbles*

(I always feel awkward about asking people to speak up more than once, so I try to worm my way out of the conversation with a canned answer.)

Me: “Yeah, that’s, uh, weird.”

Customer: *suddenly at full volume* “What do you mean ‘weird’?”

(I’ve never been caught in a canned answer before, so I start stuttering.)

Me: “That’s… I… Uh—”

Customer: “What do you mean ‘weird’?”

(Desperate for a bail-out, I employ one of my secret weapons: I jokingly give myself a light smack upside the head.)

Me: “Sorry, sir, I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s been a long—”

Customer: *cuts me off* “Oh, you’re special needs, huh?”

(I stare at him for a second.)

Me: “No. I’m not.”

Customer: “The flyer changed since the last time I was here.”

Me: *not even pretending to be friendly anymore* “Yeah. It does that.”

Customer: “Why are you hitting yourself? That’s scary.”

(I heave a sigh and finish his order in complete silence. I hand him his receipt and give a half-hearted “have a good one,” and as he’s walking away, he says this:)

Customer: “Hey, don’t do drugs, okay?”

(Yeah, sure, pal. Clearly the only reason I’d do something like is that I’m special needs or on drugs. Not because you’re a frigging low-talker who apparently doesn’t know how grocery store flyers work.)

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