I’m working a twenty-items-or-less line at a large retail store. It’s very busy, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice a young couple with a huge jug of wine. As they approach me, the male walks away. We must card every member of a group at my store.

Me: “Hi, how are you? I’ll need to see your ID as well as your friend’s.”

Customer: “You don’t need his ID! He’s my older brother and is only here to carry the bottle.”

Me: “My hands are tied; store policy states I must have both your IDs or I cannot sell this to you.”

The customer then throws a fit and demands a manager.

Customer: *To the manager* “Your f****** cashier here won’t sell me my wine because my younger brother doesn’t have his ID. He’s just carrying the bottle for me!”

Me: “You told me he was your older brother.” *To my manager* “I would have thought they were dating by the way they were hugging on each other in line.”

Manager: “My cashier already denied the sale. I’m behind her in that.”

She walks off so no one can argue. The customer stands there, dumbfounded and fuming.

Customer: “You racist! I oughta smack the s*** out of you!”

She stared me down until she stormed off.

Related:
So THAT’S How It Is In That Family

I go to a liquor store.

Me: “Let me have the larger bottle of [Brand] brandy.”

Clerk: “Sure. Hey! What’s your usual poison?”

Me: “Usually vodka.”

Clerk: “Oh, have I got something for you to try!”

A nearby associate speaks up.

Associate: “Oh, here we go again! You should get a commission on those.”

The clerk shows me a bottle.

Clerk: “Have you tried [some booze I had never heard of]?”

Me: “Nope.”

Clerk: “You’ll like it! It’s a mix of Cognac and vodka. They also have it in apple and peach.”

Me: “Oh, I don’t want flavored ones. Those are always sweet. I love [Expensive Sweet Liquor] but it’s got sugar and I’m on a low-carb diet.”

Clerk: “Okay, but I promise you’ll like this. If not, bring it back and I’ll drink it.”

We all laugh at his little joke.

I get home and pour a little into a Brandy snifter. I take one sip and it is a sweet liquor. It tastes great, but I can’t drink it; I give it to my daughter who can.

Two days later, I’m in line again, this time with some vodka. This time the “here we go again” associate is ringing me up and the original clerk is lingering behind her.

Me: “Hey, dude! Remember the stuff you encouraged me to get?”

Clerk: “Yeah? How did you like it?”

Me: “It was great, but I couldn’t drink it.”

Clerk: “Why not?”

Me: “Remember I told you I couldn’t do sweet drinks? That stuff was syrup.”

Clerk: “Really? I didn’t think it was sweet.”

A customer behind me speaks up.

Customer: “Was it [Recommended Liquor]?”

Clerk: “Yes, that’s it.”

Customer: “Yeah, man, that’s really sweet.”

Clerk: “Wow! I didn’t think it was sweet at all.”

I just shrugged and shook my head. I wasn’t going to act like a jerk about it — especially since I’m a regular there — but I don’t know how someone could drink a sticky, syrupy drink and not know it’s sweet. I’m glad I’m not diabetic.

I am arranging some food at the grocery store when two elderly ladies come up to me, looking conservative in their long skirts and very simple shirts.

Elderly Lady: “Hello, dearie!”

Me: “Hello! Can I help you?”

Elderly Lady: “I think you can.”

Her voice suddenly becomes more rough and casual.

Elderly Lady: “Where’s the beer?”

Me: “The beer?”

Elderly Lady: “Yes, the beer! All I see is wine around here, but I want beer. Where is it?”

Me: “Uh, it’s in the back near the soda.”

Elderly Lady: “Oh! That would make sense.”

She switches back to the little-old-lady voice.

Elderly Lady: “Thank you, dearie!”

The two ladies trotted off to the back to find their beer. More power to them.

I’m working at the front desk of a smallish hotel. Most of our holiday-makers are lovely people, including this one: a single traveler in his early sixties. His only fault is that he is perpetually drunk. The following conversation occurs on the day prior to his departure.

Client: *Speaking in a slur* “Hello, my friend. This might be a silly request. But do you have any of these balloons?”

Me: “Balloons?”

Client: “Yes, these balloons the police have when they stop you on the road and you have to blow into them, so they can see how much alcohol you had.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but not even the pharmacies sell those, because in Spain it would be illegal to have them — apart from the police, that is.”

Client: “I would have thought so. What a shame. It’s because I was talking to my wife and my daughter just a minute ago, and they said that I was drunk. But I’m not drunk. So I only wanted to know how much I’ve had.”

Me: “Well, unfortunately, as I’ve said, we are not allowed to have any breathalyzers.”

The client then stares at me for about ten seconds until he starts to speak again.

Client: “So, you think that I’m drunk?”

Me: *Telling a white lie* “Of course not. You may have had a beer or two. But you’re definitely not drunk.”

He then reaches across the front desk, hugs me, and says:

Client: “Thank you very much. You are a great honorable worker and a good friend.”

Then he started meandering toward the exit, trying to keep his balance.

My husband and I are both volunteer firefighters at a volunteer fire company in Delaware while he is stationed at Dover Air Force Base. The fire company has a banquet hall that it rents out for events and also provides catering and bar service.

My husband and I have volunteered to assist the catering manager for a wedding. The groom is an Airman originally from West Virginia but stationed at Dover Air Force Base and the bride is his high school sweetheart. The wedding is a total disaster or a laugh-out-loud redneck fest, depending upon how you looked at it.

Here are some highlights:

After the wedding ceremony concluded and cocktail hour had started, my husband caught a bunch of rednecks drinking moonshine — illegal bootleg corn whiskey —  in the fire hall parking lot. This is illegal and could have cost the fire company its liquor license. My husband kindly asked the gentlemen to stop drinking in the parking lot. When they refused, he radioed on his duty radio for the town police to come. Said rednecks were angry about the police coming so they decided to storm into the fire hall to confront my husband. They ended up being chased out of the hall by our fire chief at the time, a very large Native American man who happens to be able to bench press over 300 pounds. The offending rednecks were then ordered off of the fire company property by the town police.

During the dinner, my husband and I were serving the requested meal of roast beef and gravy, mashed potatoes, etc. I was serving the gravy to the guests by ladling the requested number of scoops onto the guests’ plates after my husband put the plates down before the guests. I was walking back to the kitchen when a little girl tugged the sleeve of my shirt and said, “Paw Paw wants more gravy!” I had already served “Paw Paw,” an elderly man, three scoops of gravy. I took a fresh pitcher of gravy over to Paw Paw, and apparently, he wanted a grand total of ten scoops of gravy, literally flooding his plate! It was really lucky that we were in a fire station, just in case Paw Paw had a stroke from consuming that much salt!

The evening concluded with the bride getting into a knock-down, drag-out drunken argument with her mother because there wasn’t enough money on the bar to cover an open bar for an entire night. The bride then puked all over her gown and the handicap stall in the women’s restroom. She started screaming at me and stating that I should be fired because I was quite obviously trying not to laugh at the disaster that I had been watching unfold all night long. I informed her that both my husband and I were volunteers so we couldn’t be fired. The bride then tried to scream at me again but ended up puking all over my shoes.

One of her more sober friends drug her out of the fire hall and stuffed her into a pickup truck, separate from the groom. The groom, who wasn’t nearly as drunk, ended up apologizing to us for everything. 

It’s been five years since this happened and my husband and I often wonder if the bride and groom are still married.