No ID-ea How This Works

, , , , | Right | February 28, 2019

(The store’s policy states that everyone who looks under forty gets ID’d for tobacco or alcohol. No exceptions, and once the cashier has asked for ID you must produce one to purchase the product. One day, a very young-looking woman approaches my till. I also look very young; no one has ever been able to guess my age correctly, so I’m a bit more careful when ID’ing women.)

Customer: “Can I get two packs of cigarettes?”

Me: “Sure! Do you have your ID on you?”

Customer: *immediately gets irritated* “Seriously? You know I’m over eighteen!”

Me: “Yes, I’m sorry, but it’s company policy to ID anyone who looks to be under forty. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Customer: “I’m way older than you, that’s for sure! I’m over forty-two!”

Me: “Be that as it may, I need an ID before I can process a transaction. I’d get in trouble if I just handed over the cigarettes.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous!”

(She stomps towards the door, not indicating if she’s coming back, so I set the cigarettes aside and wait a few moments to see if she comes back, and she does. She almost throws her ID at me.)

Me: “Thank you, ma’am. Your total is [price].”

Customer: “Whatever, just finish ringing me up.”

Me: “Okay, here’s your receipt and your bag. Have a good day!”

Customer: “Whatever.”

(This story has a somewhat satisfying ending. Because I set the cigarettes aside, they never made it into her bag. She ended up having to come back about fifteen minutes later with a pissy, self-absorbed look on her face. I just handed them to her without a word.)

Unfiltered Story #140402

, , , | Unfiltered | February 17, 2019

I’m waiting on two middle aged ladies who have decided to split an entree that is intended for one person. It’s not a large meal, and this occurs as I’m clearing their plates. It should also be noted that I’m a very small, petite woman.

Me: Are y’all all done here? Can I go ahead and grab this out of your way?

Lady #1: Yes, thank you. That was so good! And there was so much food!

Lady #2: Yeah, I can’t believe we finished all of that! I’m so full!

Me: I’m glad you both enjoyed it! That’s one of my favorite meals here.

Lady #2: You eat all of that by yourself?! But you’re so small!

Me: Oh yes, seafood doesn’t really fill me up too much.

That Kind Of Thinking Got You Pregnant In The First Place

, , , , , , | Romantic | February 11, 2019

(I’m six months pregnant and don’t have many maternity clothes, so I throw on a dress and tights before going to work.)

Husband: “You look really nice today.”

Me: “I ran out of pants that fit.”

Husband: “You’re carrying our child. You are the hottest woman in the world, even more so without pants.”

That’s How You Slide Out Of The Tape

, , , , | Romantic | February 1, 2019

(My girlfriend and I like going on road trips. This time, we’re flying to Austin to meet friends, then taking a rental car to San Francisco. Since we came by plane, there are a few things that we plan on buying at the starting point; for example, a big cooler box to sit in the back seat of the car — very useful on the road, but not something you’d take on the plane. We’ll buy one at the start of the trip and donate it at the destination before boarding the plane home. We are now joining our friend at the supermarket to shop for the last two things we need.)

Friend: “So, what are you and [Girlfriend] looking for, exactly?”

Me: “Duct tape and massage oil.”

Friend: *falling over backward laughing*

(I swear it made total sense to buy exactly those two things at exactly that point of time, not kinky at all!)

Unfiltered Story #137186

, , , | Unfiltered | January 26, 2019

Me (Answering phone): Thank you for calling [Fabric Store], how can I help you?

Customer (on the other end of a crackly line): Yes, thank you, I was wondering if you had any more of your fifty-gallon oil drums in stock?

Me (trying to figure out what I’d misheard):  Uh…are you looking for oilcloth?

Customer: No, the fifty-gallon oil drums.  You were out last time I checked and I wanted to see if you’d gotten them back in.

(I’m still straining to figure out what our phone line could possibly be garbling so bad.)

Me: We don’t carry oil drums.

Customer: But you said you were going to get them back in last time I called.

Me: Wait, did you mean to call [Tool Store] next door?

Customer:  …wait, what store is this?

Me: [Fabric Store].

Customer:  Oh.  Sorry.  I’ll try them.

(Still haven’t figured out how he got our numbers mixed up!)

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