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Night-Shift Of The Dead

, | Right | April 1, 2015

(I am working the customer-service desk for the night-shift at a 24-hour retailer in a huge supermarket. It is a very quiet shift, with the few customers in the store shopping silently and not needing customer-service. In the early hours of the morning, one of my coworkers who has the day off comes running in, looking filthy, exhausted, and covered in blood.)

Coworker: “What are you still doing here?!”

Me: “What do you mean? My shift isn’t over.”

Coworker: “Dude! The zombie apocalypse has started! Haven’t you seen the news?”

Me: “No, I’ve been right here.”

Coworker: “But the store is overrun with zombies! I took a huge risk coming in here for supplies. You haven’t seen any zombies?!”

Me: “No! Just me and the customers.”

(We both stop to look around the store, and at the customers. Now that I am looking a little closer, the customers are walking around with a slightly exaggerated shuffling gait, a little bit more of a blank look than they usually do, and some seem a little less… fleshy than would normally be expected.)

Me: “Huh, I guess the zombies are the customers.”

Coworker: “You mean you’ve been working here surrounded by zombies all night and you didn’t even notice?!”

Me: “It’s the night shift.”

Coworker: “…Yeah, sounds about right.”

Not Your Regular Zombie Apocalypse

, , | Right | April 1, 2015

(I am nearing the end of my shift. Unfortunately the zombie apocalypse started a few hours ago and so my coworkers and I are trying to add defenses to the doors and the windows. An obnoxious regular is trying to get in.)

Regular: “I want my triple cheeseburger, d*** it!”

Me: “Sir! Please get in your car and drive home! Your family will want to see you in this time of need!”

Regular: “F*** my family! And f*** you! You lazy good-for-nothing are just using any excuse not to serve me!”

Coworker: “Sir! Get away from the door! We need to lock it and defend ourselves!”

(My coworker rolls his eyes at the situation and goes into the kitchen to make sure the doors are locked there. Just then, I notice the regular has a bite-mark on his arm.)

Me: “Sir, you’ve been bit!”

Regular: “D*** right! I hit that stupid low-life right back, though! You should–”

(The regular stops talking, a look of abrupt calm on his face. Suddenly, I realize he is turning. I try to finish locking the doors but it is too late. The regular now has a bloodthirsty look in his eyes and is about to attack me, when suddenly…)

Coworker: “Yaaaargh!”

(My coworker rushes a knife from the kitchen. He savagely attacks the zombified regular, with multiple stabs to the brain to bring him down. After the ordeal he is standing there, breathing heavily, covered in blood, staring down at the corpse.)

Me: “Well done getting the zombie.”

Coworker: *looks up in confusion* “He was a zombie?”

Fighting Crazy With Crazy, Part 2

, , | Right | April 1, 2009

(A customer walks in with three cats. One of them is blind, one is shaved and one is dressed as a clown.)

Me: “Um… this is dog grooming.”

Customer: “I know, I want to leave my cats here for a year. I heard this was military school.”

Me: “…I think you want the kennel down the road.”

Customer: “No, there are penguins there! And bacteria!”

Me: “…”

Manager: *to me* “I just went down to the e-coli farm for some sea ice. Want some?”

Customer: *angrily* “WELL I NEVER!” *storms out*