I work in a niche retail store with fewer than fifteen locations in our district. The other day, one location had their register go down, so they called me to ring out their customer; no biggie, we do it all the time! We get through the order, and then this conversation ensues (please note we are thirty miles apart):

Me: “Okay, the total is $108 even.”

Coworker: “Okay, am I taking cash or card?”

I pause.

Me: …how am I supposed to get the cash from you?”

Coworker: *To customer.* “It’s gonna be card only.”

I hung up the phone, wondering what was in the water in that town.

I just read this story and have my own to share…

It’s one of my first jobs out of high school, at a fairly ritzy home kitchen decor kinda store in an outdoor mall. It’s during the holidays, which means weird weather.

One week there’s a weather warning for the entire county, with one of two options: there will be an ICE STORM like there’s NO TOMORROW, and all the snow on the ground will freeze, and it will be very dangerous even to be outside… or it will be 50 degrees (10 Celsius) and pleasant and balmy.

Guess which one the county prepared for, and guess which one actually happened?

Schools were shut. Offices were empty. Everything BUT the mall was closed, which meant everyone and their families and friends and THEIR families and friends with their enormous bags full of whatever.

I was thankful to clock out on time, but then I had to get out of the store.

Through the crowds.

To the parking lot.

Through the cars, and the vultures therein.

And then get OUT of the lot.

Onto the packed street.

To get home.

It should have taken fifteen minutes total.

It took an hour.

My mother was panicking that I wasn’t home on time, but honestly? I was just happy to get home… and I am happy that the store no longer exists.

I’m a bus driver. I’ve only ever had one crazy incident in all my career. Some guy is playing his music really loud.

Me: “Turn that off or put in headphones, please.”

Passenger: “This is public transportation, and I’m a member of the public.”

Me: “What does that have to do with you playing loud music?”

Passenger: “I paid for my bus ticket, so I’m allowed to be here, and I can play anything I want.”

At this point, one of my regular passengers, a huge tank of a man, gets up from his seat and sits down right next to the passenger playing loud music.

Passenger: “What the hell, dude, there’s plenty of seats.”

Tank man opens his mouth, and I realize this is the first time I’ve heard him speak, as he has a strong Russian or Eastern European accent.

Tank Man: “I pay for my bus ticket, so I’m allowed to be here.”

Tank Man suddenly breaks into bellowing a loud opera-type song in his native language, directed right at the passenger.

Passenger: “F*** off!”

Tank Man: *Still in his singing voice.* “You f*** off. Public transportation and I public.”

The passenger has had enough and stands up and pushes past Tank Man. He takes another seat, but Tank Man follows him. He takes a third seat, next to another passenger, in the hopes that Tank Man can’t sit next to him. Tank Man sits behind him instead and continues his operatic performance.

Passenger: *Turns off his music.* “Fine! F*** it!”

Tank Man: *Stops singing.* “Oh. I lost my background music. I must stop singing.”

The passenger gets off a couple of stops later. A couple of stops after that Tank Man gets off at his regular stop.

Me: “Thanks, man. That was awesome. My powers as a driver are pretty limited to dealing with unruly passengers, so that was great.”

Tank Man: “Meh. I work three years as Walmart cashier. This nothing.”

Related:
Meet Dieter, Friend Of Boris
When It Comes To Shoplifters Boris Finds Middle Ground Between The News Way And The Old Ways
Poorly Boris Delighted To Find Doctor Who Speaks His Language
Family Of Boris Goes Tech
When Boris Runs Trivia Night

This story is part of our Editors’-Favorite-Stories-Of-2025 roundup!

Read the next story!

Read the roundup!

I was in a big card shop, and when I got to the counter:

Clerk: “They’re 50% off.”

Me: “That’s really nice! You should advertise it.”

She looked at me, blinked a couple of times, then looked at the wall behind her, the top half of which was a sign ten feet tall that said:

Sign: “SALE! ALL CARDS 50% OFF.”

At that point, I realized that every aisle had the same sign, and that more were placed prominently around the store.

Me: “Oh, how oblivious am I?”

I could only laugh at myself.

The kicker is, as I left to cross the parking lot to my car, I looked back. There, thirty feet long and fifteen feet high, across the front of the building? 

Yup. Same sign.

My husband and I always bring chips, veggie dip, crudité, and his homemade hummus to Thanksgiving Dinner. Two days before the holiday, I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from work to buy what we needed. There was exactly one crudité platter left that had fresh-looking vegetables and — bonus! — it had a big, sparkly, red bow on top. When I got to the checkout, I put it last on the conveyor belt so it wouldn’t get crushed.

When the checkout clerk reached the platter, she exclaimed:

Clerk: “Oh, look at that! It’s so pretty!”

Me: “Isn’t it nice? And it was the last one left!”

Clerk: “I can’t find a price or a barcode on it.”

“So, that means it’s free, right?” ran through my head, but as a longtime reader of NAR, I squashed it and instead prepared to wait a couple of minutes while the clerk called someone for a price check.

Instead, she handed me my receipt.

Me: *Quietly* “Did you just give that to me for free?”

Clerk: *Smiling* “Don’t tell anyone!”

Me: “I won’t! And happy Thanksgiving!”