Hey, Google, What Kind Of Cancer Do I Have?

, , , | Healthy | January 18, 2018

(I stop in a pharmacy to pick up some medication. I hear the following from a lady next to me.)

Woman: “I want to buy this!”

(She points at medicine on the shelf behind the pharmacist.)

Pharmacist: “That’s prescription medication. You can’t buy that. I’m sorry.”

Woman: “I NEED IT!”

Pharmacist: “Okay, well, we still can’t give you the medication. You need a prescription.”

Woman: “No! WEBMD SAID I HAVE CANCER AND I NEED THIS!”

Pharmacist: “Ma’am, I recommend you see your doctor before you get a self-diagnosis off of the Internet.”

Woman: “You’re a doctor! And I KNOW I HAVE CANCER!”

Pharmacist: “Actually, I’m not a—”

Woman: “YOU ALL WANT ME TO DIE OF CANCER! I AM REPORTING YOU TO THE POLICE!”

(She then proceeds to run out of the store, knocking down several displays and screaming “I NEED PENICILLIN! I HAVE CANCER!”)

Me: *mumbling* “How does she think penicillin will cure cancer, anyway?”

Pharmacist: “That’s not even penicillin.”

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She Was Never At The Age For Games

, , , , | Right | January 18, 2018

(A customer with an eight-year-old child comes over and asks us to recommend a board game as a present for her husband. It’s immediately apparent she knows nothing about board games. I pull out our favourite gateway game and extol its many virtues: ease of learning, replayability, family-friendliness, etc. The customer seems happy, takes the box to look at, and fixates on game’s age rating, “8+.”)

Customer: “My husband is 36. This says eight.”

Me: “Ma’am, the age rating mostly informs about difficulty of rules. I know five-year-olds who play with family, and many adults who enjoy this game with friends.”

Customer: “But my husband is 36 years old. “

(I’m thinking, okay. Maybe the husband will play with his buddies and not with her. Something meatier, then. I take down a strategy/economy game and explain it, emphasizing required strategy, deep decision-making, and cutthroat player competition. She takes a look and sees a “12+” on the box.)

Customer: “It’s 12. He is 36.”

Me: “The age on the box is, roughly, when a player can understand the rules and play unassisted. An eight-year-old couldn’t play this alone; there’s too many things to keep track of. A 12-year-old could play, but not at a great level. An adult would be able to see and plan and use all the game has to offer. I promise it won’t be too easy or boring.”

(I go into this “teaching mode” for a few minutes, explaining and pointing out examples of how some of the most mind-bending, headache-inducing, multi-hour games only have “14+” age ratings and some of the greatest, most popular games worldwide are “8+” or “10+”. By the end, I can see in her eight-year-old son’s eyes that he understands. The customer is holding a box, thoughtfully looking at a picture of a game in progress. Then she raises her head.)

Customer: “But my husband is 36.”

(Eventually she picked out and bought an outdoor game of throwing wooden sticks at targets, presumably because it didn’t have an age listed anywhere on the box.)

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Sounds Like They’ve Had Too Many Already

, , , , , | Right | January 18, 2018

(I am sitting at bar in restaurant and lady walks up and orders a “Virgin Screwdriver,” which makes me snort.)

Customer: *turning to me* “What?”

Me: “You could have just ordered an orange juice.”

Customer: “I don’t want an orange juice. I want a Virgin Screwdriver.”

Bartender: “A Virgin Screwdriver is orange juice.”

Customer: “No, it’s not; it’s a Screwdriver without alcohol.”

Bartender: “A Screwdriver is just orange juice and tequila or vodka. If I take out the tequila—”

Customer: *interrupts* “I don’t want you to take out the tequila. You’re supposed to leave it in. Just take out the alcohol.”

(The debate continued for a bit longer before the lady decided on a normal Tequila Screwdriver and told the bartender:)

Customer: “But if I get in a wreck because I’m drunk, it’s your fault!”

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Only Has One-Topping Brain Power

, , , , , , | Working | January 17, 2018

(I’m sitting beside my husband at home when he calls the nearby pizza restaurant to place an order. I can hear the whole exchange. It goes as follows.)

Husband: “Hello, I’d like to place an order for carry-out.”

Employee: “Okay. Is that for delivery?”

Husband: “No, I said, ‘Carry-out.’”

Employee: “What?”

Husband: “CARRY. OUT. You know, I’m going to place my order, go to your store, pay for my food, and CARRY IT OUT WITH ME!”

Employee: “…”

(My husband stares at me in disbelief. I try to whisper to him to tell the employee that it’s take-out, pick-up, or some other variant, but he can’t make out what I’m saying. Finally…)

Employee: “OH! You want to do take-out!”

(Predictably, the rest of the phone call doesn’t go much better.)

Husband: “Okay, so, for the first pizza, it’s your two-topping deal. I’m wondering if I can do double pepperoni for that.”

Employee: “And what do you want for your second topping?”

Husband: “No, listen. I’m asking you if I can do pepperoni for both toppings. So, put extra pepperoni. Lots of it. We want tons of pepperoni on the pizza.”

Employee: “But you get two toppings—”

Husband: *rolling his eyes* “You know what? Fine. Pepperoni and mushroom.”

(Unfortunately, there wasn’t another nearby pizza place we could switch to, so my husband went ahead and completed the order, but we haven’t gone back to that place since. Having worked in pizza myself, I’m not sure what was so difficult for this employee to grasp!)

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Karma Offers Cash Back

, , , , , | Right | January 17, 2018

(A customer is checking out at a self-checkout. She is about to leave when the attendant notices that she didn’t ring up a pair of shoes.)

Attendant: “Ma’am, you’re going to have to pay for those shoes.”

(The woman runs out with her items, leaving behind her $40 cash back. The attendant then tells the manager. The customer calls saying she accidentally left her $40 cash back at the register, and is transferred to the manager.)

Manager: “I can’t help you over the phone. You’ll need to come in and get it.”

Caller: “Can I send my son in?”

Manager: “No, we don’t know who your son is or what he looks like. You’ll have to come in yourself and get it.”

Voice: *in the background of the call* “I guess you’re never getting your money back.”

(The kicker? The shoes she stole were only about $15.)

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