Volumes Of Knowledge

| TX, USA | Right | August 20, 2015

(Two customers are talking to my boss at the front desk. I’m around the corner, out of sight, at another desk.)

Customer #1: “We’re looking for Les Mis. Who is that by?”

Boss: “It’s by Victor Hugo. It would be over in fiction, but I’m not sure if we have any copies right now.”

Me: *without moving* “We have three copies.”

(I can hear them talking in the shelves.)

Customer #2: “Aha! She was wrong. There are four copies!”

Customer #1: “No, look.”

Customer #2: “Oh crap, those two are volume one and volume two. She really is good.”

A Crackers Request

| New Orleans, LA, USA | Right | August 19, 2015

(I’m a cashier at a local grocery store. A woman comes to my line holding an open pack of crackers, one from a larger pack of eight.)

Customer: “I got these crackers, and I got hungry so I started eating some, but then my grandson called and said these aren’t the kind he likes. Can I just pay for this one?”

Me: “We don’t sell the packs individually; you’ll have to pay for the whole thing.”

Customer: “But I don’t have any use for them!”

Me: “Well, since you opened it, neither do we.”

Shot Himself In The Foot

| NV, USA | Right | August 19, 2015

(I’m a cashier in a sporting goods store. All of our more expensive products – anything from firearms and ammo to football gloves and high-end sunglasses – are kept behind a counter that is separate from the registers and located right next to the manager’s office. The managers are the only ones who have the keys to the knife drawers and gun cabinets, but any employee can handle small stuff like ammo and sunglasses. Customers are NOT allowed to get their own ammo – only a store associate can grab it for them and it MUST be brought up to the registers by that associate to prevent theft.)

Me: “Hi there! How can I help you today?”

Customer: “Ammo. I have a BB gun and I need the ammo for it.”

Me: “Absolutely! If you go back over there—” *points to gun counter* “—I’ll call someone over and they can help you.”

Customer: “Thanks!”

(He heads over to the counter and I intercom one of my managers to help him. As soon as I hang up the phone, a line starts up at my register, so I begin working through the line. A few minutes later, I see one of my coworkers slip behind me and set a package of BBs on my counter, with the customer following right behind them.)

Me: “Find everything all right?”

Customer: “Yeah, but I’m a bit upset at your manager. He barked at me while I was over there.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir.”

Customer: “Yeah, he snapped at me for going behind the counter.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Yeah, I got tired of waiting, so I went back there and grabbed them off the shelf.”

(From the time I sent him over to the counter to the time he walked back to my register, a whopping two minutes had passed, hardly a long wait for a store our size. I was honestly stunned that my head manager hadn’t killed him, or at least tackled him to the ground, for pulling a stunt like that.)

Me: “Again, I’m sorry, sir.” *finishes transaction* “Have a nice day.”

(Once he left, I turned to my coworker and frowned, pondering how he managed to rationalize the act of going behind the gun counter of a national sporting goods retailer and NOT think it was a bad idea.)

Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 12

| MD, USA | Right | August 19, 2015

(I provide a replacement business cell phone for a user who misplaced hers. During the delivery process of the new phone I ask:)

Me: “Have you been able to find the original phone?”

Caller: “I’ve looked in every room except the one I think it’s actually in.”

Related:

Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 11
Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 10 
Not-So-Smart Phone, Part 9 

You Will Have Hell Toupee

| Norway | Right | August 19, 2015

(I have very curly hair, it’s all ringlets and corkscrews. A middle-aged lady has come to pick up her son from school.)

Lady: “Wow, you have really beautiful hair!”

Me: “Thank you!”

Lady: “Can I borrow it?”

Me: “Er… pardon?”

(The lady leans forward, grabs a fistful of my locks, and tugs so hard my eyes begin to water.)

Me: “Ouch! What are you doing!”

Lady: “Oh, I thought it was a wig! That was unnecessary. You should have warned me it wasn’t!”

(Her son came and apologized the next day, but his mother no longer talks to me.)

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