How To Make Grandma Nun Too Happy

| Toronto, ON, Canada | At The Checkout, Bigotry, Family & Kids, Love/Romance, Top

(I am Asian. I work as a cashier at a supermarket. Today I get one of my great-aunts in line. We chat as I am checking out her groceries.)

Aunt: “So have you found anyone yet, [Name]?”

Me: “Not yet, Auntie.”

Aunt: “Well, [My Grandma] is getting anxious, you know. She wants great-grandchildren.”

Me: “She already has great-grandchildren, Auntie. My cousins have kids, remember?”

Aunt: “Then, your parents! They want to see you married and settled with grandchildren!”

(My parents have never made any such demands of me, nor made any indication of such being expected. I remain calm and polite, as I am still at work and my great-aunt is a paying customer.)

Me: *changing the subject slightly* “I think my sister would have something to say about that!”

(My sister is both older than me and already married.)

Aunt: “Oh, yes, that’s right! She did the right thing, you know; marrying properly.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Aunt: “She married that nice [regional Chinese] boy. Not just [other Chinese], but [regional Chinese], like us. Proper. Your grandma said so.”

(I am appalled, all the more so because she’s utterly sincere.)

Me: “…I thought she was joking?”

Aunt: “Oh no! Very serious. She was quite upset when [My Cousin] married that Vietnamese boy. And all these others, gwailo (white people) and…”

(She goes on a tirade about not marrying outside the group. I am speechless.)

Me: “Your total is [amount], Auntie.”

Aunt: “Oh, I bought too much again! Ah, the boys will eat it. See you soon, [My Name]!”

(I automatically wave goodbye, still dumbfounded. Finally, she’s bagged her things and gone.)

Me: *thinking out loud* “Screw this. I might as well join a convent.”

Next Customer: “I don’t think that’d work for a bright young girl like you, sweetheart.”

(It is at this point I realize both my new customers are wearing habits and veils.)

Me: “Oh, crap! Sorry, Sisters.”

Nun #1: “Don’t be!”

Nun #2: “We heard what she said. You love who want, when you want, in your own good time.”

Nun #1: “Besides, running off to a convent doesn’t work like that these days. You need a vocation.”

(She leans forward to take my hand.)

Nun #1: “And convent life isn’t all that cracked up to be! You’re a good girl, and a lovely person. We always look for you when we stop by, you know. Take your time to figure out your path.”

Nun #2: “And if it does lead to us, at least you’ll be prepared! Either way, have faith. Bless you, dear!”

(I finish ringing them up, and they go on their way. My supervisor walks over.)

Supervisor: “You all right?”

(I shrug, dazed.)

Supervisor: “Go take your break. You’re due for one, anyway.”

(One of the weirdest and most heartwarming shifts I ever had!)

The Race Card Is Double Sided

| Mobile, AL, USA | Bigotry, Food & Drink, Top

(My husband and I are new to the area. We are trying out a popular fried chicken restaurant that is on a side of town primarily occupied by black people. I am white, and my husband is Mexican.)

Me: “This chicken is great!”

Husband: “Yeah, but it’d be better with some hot sauce! I’ll go get some!”

(I slide out of the booth we are in to let him out. As I step back I accidentally bump another patron who is walking back up front to refill his drink. He drops his cup.)

Me: “Oops! I’m sorry!”

Customer: *glaring at me* “What’s wrong with you? You in the wrong side of town. You think you can hit me just cuz I’m black?! Racist b****!”

(My husband is about to intervene, but I speak up.)

Me: “You think you can say that just because I’m white?”

Customer: *long pause* “…say what?”

Me: “You think you can claim I’m racist just because I’m white?”

Customer: “I… you… what?”

Me: “Seeing as how my husband is Mexican, I don’t think you can cry racism on this one, man. Nice try.”

(I pick up his cup and get a whiff of what he was drinking.)

Me: “What were you drinking? Sprite?”

Customer: “…yeah.”

(I go refill his drink for him and hand it back to him with a smile on my face.)

Me: “There ya go.”

Customer: “You pretty nice, for a cracker.”

Me: “You’re pretty nice, for someone so ignorant. Racism works both ways, man. Don’t let it—”

Customer: “—yeah. Okay. Sorry.”

(Thankfully, my husband and I finish our meals without any more interruptions.)

An Old Hack And A Credit Card Hack

| Huntsville, AL, USA | Crazy Requests, Money

(A customer approaches one of my coworkers.)

Coworker: “Hi! Welcome to [Pizza Place]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “I need to speak with your manager. NOW.”

(Being the manager, I step in.)

Me: “Hi. I’m the manager. How may I help you?”

Customer: “YOU’RE the manager? How old are you? 12?”

Me: “I’m 24, sir. How may I help you?”

Customer: *sighs very loudly* “I have a problem. I think my daughter’s credit card was hacked or something. A charge that she doesn’t recognize showed up on the bill. This is the address that showed up for the charge.”

Me: “The address here actually covers the entire strip mall, sir; not just this store. We have a suite number. The name of the pizza place always shows up on our credit card charges.”

Customer: “My daughter and her mother are going to other stores to ask them about the charge. It would really help me if I could make sure the charge didn’t come from your store.”

Me: “I’d be happy to try to help you, sir. Can you give me the date and amount for the charge?”

Customer: “Sure. It’s [date and amount].”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t have any orders from that day that are for that amount.”

Customer: “Whoever stole her card number probably left a tip or something.”

Me: “Sir, we add the tip to the order in the system so we can give cash to our drivers at the end of the night. The total should match exactly.”

Customer: “Maybe you didn’t add it or something!”

Me: “Okay. If you’ll give me the last four digits of your daughter’s card number, I can check the batch report.”

Customer: “I don’t feel comfortable doing that. Can I just see the batch report so I can check for her card number?”

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. There are other credit card numbers in that batch report.”

Customer: “So? It’s not like I’m going to steal the card numbers or anything.”

Me: “I’m sure you wouldn’t, sir. But I still can’t show you the report. Since you won’t give me the last four digits of your daughter’s card number, I don’t think I can help you. I suggest you call the company that issued the credit card to dispute the charge. They should be able to remove it and issue your daughter a new card.”

Customer: “NO! I DEMAND TO SEE YOUR BATCH REPORT RIGHT NOW! MY DAUGHTER’S CARD WAS HACKED. I HAVE A RIGHT TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t help you. You need to leave, please.”

Customer: “F*** YOU, B****!”

(The customer leaves after flipping me off. I call the cops. They find him screaming at another manager in a store several doors down. Ironically, it turns out the guy had several outstanding warrants for identity theft and credit card fraud!)