Willing To Pay Taupe Dollar

, , , , , , | Working | November 30, 2017

(I am checking out at a bookstore which offers throw blankets at a reduced price if you spend enough on other purchases. The blankets, all of which are shades of brown or grey, are on three shelves behind the cashier. Neither of us is stupid in this story; it’s just a miscommunication.)

Cashier: “Would you like to buy one of our throw blankets today? It would only be $29.”

Me: “Yes, I would, actually.” *pointing* “I’ll take one of the top ones.”

Cashier: *looking confused* “Top? Is that how you pronounce it?”

Me: *looking equally confused* “Yes?”

Cashier: *reaching for a blanket from the top shelf* “We’ve been saying ‘taupe.’”

Taking A Big Bite Out Of Your Parenting

, , , , , , | Friendly | November 18, 2017

(I am kneeling in a bookstore looking for a particular book, and there is a mother with a toddler nearby. The mother is absorbed in her book. Suddenly her toddler runs up to me, then grabs and BITES DOWN ON MY BOOB — and I feel teeth!)

Me: *yelps* “What the f***?!”

Mother: *whips her head around like Linda Blair, glaring at me* “Excuse me! Don’t swear in front of my kid!”

Me: “Your kid just bit me!” *I stand up and gesture where he bit me*

Mother: “Oh, he must’ve been hungry.”

Me: “What? That’s not okay!”

Employee: *investigating the commotion* “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Me: “I—”

Mother: “It’s nothing really; she’s overreacting. Some people just can’t handle children.”

(With that, she picks up her kid and walks off like it was nothing. I explain to the employee what happened.)

Employee: “Oh… uh… Do you need—” *he gestures, clearly flustered* “—I mean, are you—”

Me: “It’s fine. Just… I’ll be going.”

(I never ran into that woman or her kid again, but since then I’ve been very wary of toddlers that aren’t being watched closely — once bitten, twice shy, I guess!)

Repeating The Same Old Baggage

, , , , | Right | November 17, 2017

(Most major retailers in our city have just recently signed an agreement to reduce the number of plastic bags. All stores that signed the agreement have since started charging for plastic bags or switched to paper bags, which also come at a small fee.)

Customer: “Just this.”

Me: “That will be €9.99. Do you need to buy a bag?”

Customer: “How will I get this home?”

Me: “I can offer you a small plastic bag for 10 Cents, a large plastic bag for 20 Cents. or a canvas bag for 1 Euro.”

Customer: “How will I get this home?”

Me: “A small plastic bag should be sufficient. It’s just a small book; it will fit.”

Customer: “How will I get this home?”

Me: “If you don’t like plastic bags, I can also sell you a canvas bag for 1 Euro. Or we sell those pretty foldable fabric shoppers. They run €4.95, though.”

Customer: “But how will I get this home?”

Me: “…”

Customer: “I bet you also charge for gift wrapping.”

Me: “No. That’s actually a complementary service we offer.”

Customer: “Then gift-wrap this.”

Me: “Okay, no problem. €9.99.”

(The customer pays. I wrap her book and hand it to her.)

Customer: “How will I get this home?”

Me: “I could still sell you a plastic bag or a reusable canvas bag if you don’t like plastic.”

(The customer huffs loudly, picks up her book and walks off.)

Coworker: *looks at me and says* “Well, you could have offered to walk her to her car and carry it for her, couldn’t you?”

Yoga To Be Kidding

, , , , , , | Related | November 8, 2017

(A couple and their three-year-old son are shopping in my bookstore. We have a back section accessed by three steps, and the little boy has decided to run up and down the stairs a few times. He ends up landing in a heap at the bottom and sits there for a bit, deciding if he’s hurt enough to cry.)

Woman: “Oh, dear, [Son]. Did you get a boo-boo? Do you want me to kiss it better?”

(The little boy nods and his mother kisses his forehead.)

Boy: “But I hurt my butt!”

Woman: “Okay, do the downward dog, and I’ll kiss that, too.”

(It was so hard to keep from laughing.)

Not Very Closed Minded, Part 26

, , , , | Right | November 8, 2017

(We close at 7:00 pm on Sundays, which is fine in winter, because it’s dark out and most of the time, people don’t really come in. When it gets lighter out, however, we get an after-dinner rush and have to coax a lot of people out of the store. My coworker is pulling out the cash drawers when a customer walks in during closing.)

Coworker: “Oh! I’m sorry, ma’am. We just closed.”

Customer: “Oh! What time?”

Coworker: “Just now, at seven o’clock.”

Customer: “Isn’t it two minutes before seven?”

(She is referring to the large clock behind our register, which is always slow.)

Coworker: “No, ma’am, I’m sorry; it is exactly seven o’clock. But maybe we can ring up a book for you. Do you know exactly what you want?”

Customer: “No, but can I just browse for a couple of minutes or so?”

Coworker: *pained smile* “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Me: *jumping in* “Don’t worry. We open every day at 10:00 am. You can come in then!”

Customer: “Oh. Well, I suppose you’re closed.”

(She proceeds to sigh and stand in front of the cash registers, quietly and somberly, for at least ten seconds before finally, slowly, shambling out. Whether or not she thought silently pouting would actually get us to change our minds about staying open for her is beyond me!)

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