Karma As Smooth As Butter  

(I’m working the register on a very busy day. This register happens to have an extra-wide aisle for strollers, wheelchairs, etc., meaning that the one behind me has a slightly tighter aisle. I’ve just finished with a customer when a woman in a mobility scooter comes up next. Because there is a big queue, I immediately start scanning and moving things to the conveyor belt at the end. When I reach item #3, she shoves a bag in my hands.)

Customer: “Put it all in there.”

(Bagging is not a standard service in Holland, but if customers ask politely or clearly would have trouble with it — I get a lot of elderly people with hands disfigured from arthritis or rheumatism — I don’t mind. So, in this case, I swallow my annoyance at her tone and bag everything as I scan it.)

Me: “That will be €45.97, please.” *glancing at the conveyor belt at the end of my register* “It seems one pack of butter slipped through before I received your bag, sorry.”

(The rim of the collection area at the end is maybe 10cm high and the pack is completely in the corner on her side. A person with finger attached to their shoulders could probably pick it up without problems.)

Customer: “Are you f****** kidding me? You lazy brat! Can’t you see I’m handicapped?! You really have no manners! How dare you treat suffering people this way?!”

(Grudgingly, I get up and squeeze my way through the 15cm or so between the carts from the line behind me and my conveyor belt. It is either that or wait for several customers to pass since the path behind me is so small. I pick up the pack of butter, give myself a few more bruises squeezing my way back, put the butter in the bag, and notice some liquid coming out of a carton of eggs.)

Me: *with a voice that’s oozing with sugar* “There you go, madam. Have a wonderful day!”