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That’s One Serious Chip On Your Shoulder

| Bloomington, IN, USA | Bad Behavior, Technology

Me: “Please use our new chip reader.”

Customer: “I hate these chip reader things. I hate it more than genocide.”

Me: “What?”

Customer: “Yeah, genocide doesn’t affect me, like the chip does.”

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Worse Than The Yes Men Are The Yes/No Men

| Banbury, England, UK | At The Checkout, Extra Stupid, Technology

(It’s a late night shift, Friday, around nine pm. It’s fairly quiet tonight and I don’t have much to do. After a while occupying myself around the store a heavily-accented Eastern European man comes up to the counter.)

Customer: “Scotch whiskey?”

Me: “Yup, we have a selection of spirits behind the counter.”

(I turn to show him the cabinet behind me.)

Me: “For scotch whiskeys we have [Brand #1]—”

Customer: *interrupting, in a panicked tone* “NO!”

(I pause, expecting him to continue or elaborate, after a moment he seems to relax.)

Me: “[Brand #2]?”

Customer: *seemingly scared* “NO!”

(Pause again.)

Me: “[Brand #3?]”

(He nods; I take the bottle and scan it through.)

Me: “That’ll be [price].”

(He displays a card inserts it into the machine. We go through the steps and come to entering his PIN code. He presses three numbers then stares at me.)

Me: “Your PIN code should be four numbers.”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “You only pressed three.”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: *baffled* “You should have pressed four numbers, then the enter key.”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: *starting to see where this is going* “You should have pressed five buttons in total. Four numbers, then the green enter key.”

Customer: “Yes.”

(This continued for a while. A queue of angry and confused customers was starting to build. After several minutes of this same back-and-forth he eventually huffed and said something I couldn’t understand, threw up his hands and walked out and left the bottle behind.)

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Thought It Was One Giant Smoking Mirror

, | PA, USA | At The Checkout, Extra Stupid

(We sell cigarettes, and you can clearly see them as soon as you walk in the door.)

Customer: “Excuse me; do you guys sell cigarettes here?”

Me: *being humorous, thinking he is as well* “No, we don’t, sir.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. I’ll go somewhere else.”

(As he started to leave, another cashier motioned to the wall of hundreds of cigarettes behind the counter, and lucky us, he found humor in his mistake, as well as we did.)