Stringing Us Along
I’m working the register on a quiet afternoon when a guy walks in. He looks nervous, almost like he’s about to rob the place. Instead, he goes straight to the aisle with the hygiene products and grabs a box of tampons.
No big deal, happens all the time. But the second he gets to my register… it begins.
Customer: “Uh… these aren’t for me.”
Me: “Alright.” *Scans box.*
Customer: “Like, I’m not gonna use them.”
Me: “Okay.”
Customer: “They’re for… you know, not me. For… a woman.”
Me: “Got it.”
Customer: “Just so you know, I don’t use these. I won’t use them. They’re not mine.”
Me: *Handing him the bag.* “Sir… I believe you.”
He laughs awkwardly, shuffles his feet, then blurts out one more time:
Customer: “I swear, they’re not for me!”
Me: “Sir, you’ve said that so many times I’m starting to suspect they are for you.”
He went scarlet, mumbled a thanks, and nearly sprinted out of the store.
