Not Firmly Rooted In Reality
(I work at a “cut your own” Christmas tree farm.)
Customer: “Are these locally grown?”
This story is part of the Farmer roundup.
Nature’s Calling, Please Don’t Answer
British Columbia, Canada, Farm, Lazy/Unhelpful, Parents/Guardians, Revolting |
Right
| October 28, 2011
(I work on a berry farm and we have U-pick on the farm. While working in U-pick, I come across a woman and her son walking in the small wooded area beside one of the strawberry fields.)
Me: “Hi, ma’am, I couldn’t help but notice you walking through the trees here. Are you looking for someone?”
Customer: “Oh, hi. Um, no… we aren’t looking for anyone.”
(She continues to walk away from me.)
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to come back to the strawberry field now. This wooded area is actually not on farm property.”
Customer: “Oh, that’s okay. We’ll be quick. My son just needs to poop.”
Me: “Oh! Actually, we ask that you don’t do that here. We have restrooms back at the main building.”
(I point to the building, which is about twenty yards away.)
Customer: *sighs* “Well, alright, but that’s a pretty long way to walk…”
This story is part of the Farmer roundup.
You’ll Just Have To Weight
Boston, Editors' Choice, Farm, Funny Stories, Impossible Demands, Massachusetts, USA |
Right
| September 3, 2010
Customer: “Could you add the tomato I sampled to the total price?”
Me: “Do you mean you ate it?”
Customer: “Yes, please add it.”
Me: “I’m sorry, but we charge tomatoes by the pound, so that would be kind of hard to do.”
Customer: *thinks for a second* “Well, I weighed 157 pounds before I ate it…”
This story is part of the Farmer roundup.
Not Berry Bright
(A customer walks up to my berry stand and motions at a pack of strawberries.)
Me: “Hello, sir. A pack is $11.”
Customer: *hands me a dollar bill*
Me: “Sorry, it’s $11, sir.”
Customer:*hands me another dollar and looks at me expectantly*
Me: “Well, I just need nine more of these.”
Customer:*hands me another dollar bill*
Me: “We’re getting there. Eight more.”
Customer: *looks at me, confused, then walks away*
This story is part of the Farmer roundup.
The Land Of Milk And Money
(I am working at a packing house, cutting checks for local dairy farmers who sell us one or two cows at a time. They are given a scale ticket in the barn, which I use to cut a check.)
Me: “Hi, can I have your scale ticket?”
Farmer: “I’d like him to help me.” *points at a USDA associate*
Me: “Sorry, sir, but he doesn’t work for us. He works for the USDA.”
Farmer: “Well, I’d like you to find a MAN who can cut me a check for my cows.”
Me: “I’m sorry, but none of the men that work here know how to cut checks. All our office staff members are women.”
Farmer: “Don’t lie, you little hussy! Only men can run a business! You go back to making coffee!”
Me: “Sir, you run a dairy farm, correct?”
Farmer: “Yeah.”
Me: “And you make money from the milk you sell?”
Farmer: “That’s how a dairy farm works, sweetheart. Now get me a–”
Me: “So, basically, milk is money to you?”
Farmer: “Yes. Now get me a–”
Me: “And does the milk come from male cattle?”
Farmer: “Ha ha! NO!”
Me: *pointed look*
Farmer: *hands me the scale ticket*
Did you find this story using our World Milk Day roundup?
