I Read Can

(The customer I’m checking out is having an issue swiping her card. After the machine fails to read the stripe for the third time I offer to manually key in the number. Unfortunately I end up slipping up as well due to trying to speedily finish the transaction.)

Customer: “What the heck is taking so long? Can’t you read?”

Me: “I do apologize. My dyslexia usually chooses the worst moments to rear its ugly head.”

Customer: “So you actually can’t read, then? Huh, figures.” *points to a fairly expensive bottle of wine* “You know that’s half off right?”

Me: *reading the price tag* “Erm… I’m sorry, but no it isn’t.”

Customer: “It says right over there!” *points to a sign over the wine section advertising a sale on our local vintages*

Me: “Actually, ma’am, that sign is referring to wines produced in state, which are buy one, get one free. This is an imported vintage so it’s not eligible.”

Customer: “You just said you were dyslexic! That you can’t read!”

Me: “Dyslexic means I sometimes mix up the order of numbers or words, ma’am. What you’re thinking of is ‘illiterate.’”

(The customer silently glared at me as I finally got her card to go through and stormed out grumbling.)