Let’s Hope She Managed To Leave While He Was Out

I’m doing a cover shift in the deli at a large supermarket. A young bloke comes in, obviously not having showered for a couple of days, with a dumper — half-smoked and extinguished — cigarette in his mouth. He orders five slices of Devon, a lunchmeat. I take out the slices and bag it up, and as I’m about to print out the label, he says:

Customer: “You’re going to run that through as chicken, right?”

Me: “No. It’s Devon.”

Customer: “Yeah, but you need to run it through as chicken breast.”

Me: “I can’t do that. It’s Devon. And it’s significantly cheaper than chicken breast.”

Customer: “Yeah, but my wife sent me here to get chicken. We can’t afford chicken and she’s dumb as dog s***, so if you just put chicken as the label, that’ll fool her.”

Me: “I can’t do that, sorry. Maybe try writing chicken on the bag once you’ve left the store?”

The customer nodded as if I’d given him something profound to think about. He took the Devon and walked off. It was by far the strangest interaction I had that day.