My grandson was born and lives in southern California, where he spends as much time swimming and surfing in the Pacific as possible. It’s rare that a week goes by without at least one trip to the beaches near Los Angeles.

When he was nine, his family took a trip to Maine. At one point, they were staying in a hotel on the coast just north of Bar Harbor, and there was a small but inviting beach nearby. He asked, and his mom and dad told him to go ahead and jump in. Sans wet suit, he dashed into the water…

…where he became intimately acquainted with the branch of the Labrador Current that runs south along that part of the coast. Barely past ankle depth, he stopped and sprinted out twice as fast as he’d gone in. His parents couldn’t keep straight faces when he wailed:

Grandson: “Why do they have a beach if it’s too cold to swim?”

It is July Fourth, and a bunch of older women (maybe mid-to-late seventies) come into the small local store, all loud and laughing.

Old Lady #1: “We need cookies!”

Old Lady #2: “Yes! The chewy ones!”

Old Lady #3: “And chips! Pringles! Once you pop, you can’t stop!”

For some reason this repeat of the ad jingle makes them all crack up. I smile too, as it’s kinda infectious.

Old Lady #4: *Putting a five-dollar bill on my counter.* “Can I open this now and eat while we shop? I… just… can’t wait!”

She is already opening the Pringles can and pouring them into her mouth.

Me: “Uh… sure, why not. It’s a holiday.”

Old Lady #4: “Yes! It’s America Day! We almost forgot!”

Old Lady #1: *Putting a pile of snacks on to my counter big enough for Smaug to hide inside.* “God Bless America!”

The hilarious old ladies giggle and make their purchases, leaving me very confused but in a good mood. Thankfully as we’re a local store I see them all leave and walk down the street to the suburban intersection (it’s common for locals to walk here).

Three days later, I am working again, and I see two of the ladies back in the store. They’re much quieter and are only buying magazines and some smokes. As they’re paying, they notice the Pringles display.

Old Lady #1: “Were… we here on July 4^th?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

Old Lady #1: “Buying snacks?”

Me: “All the snacks, ma’am.”

Old Lady #2: *To [Old Lady #1].* “I told you we didn’t imagine it!”

Old Lady #1: *To me.* “Word to the wise, young man. If your punk-a** grandson’s girlfriend brings brownies to the holiday BBQ, find out if she’s a d*** hippie before you eat two pieces!”

I can’t wait to see if they come back next year!

It is July 4^th and because our store is only open for a few hours in the morning to afternoon we’re busier than usual while customers grab some last-minute items before going to their cookouts or whatever.

Despite all this, I am still observant enough to spot two young guys acting all shady, and whaddya know they’re hovering around the alcohol section. I see them start to walk out with some bottles hidden under their shirts. They’re so obvious it’s almost comical.

I inform my manager and the security guy, who meet them at the exit and take all of about ten seconds to confirm their guilt. Police are called, they are detained, and I continue serving customers.

The police arrive, and they’re escorting the young guys out.

Officer #1: *To the criminals.* “So why did you try to steal some beer?”

Criminal #1: “We’re going to a party and we said we’d bring beer, but we’re underage.”

Officer #2: *Who is holding the criminal’s IDs.* “Wait a minute, is this ID accurate?”

Criminal #1: “Uh… yeah?”

Officer #2: “You turned twenty-one last month.”

Criminal #1: “No, I turned twenty.”

Officer #2: “Uh… no. Do the math. You were born in [year], and now it’s [year], so congratulations, you’re twenty-one.”

The criminal’s eyes go wide as he realizes what this means, but it gets worse, as now the other guy finally speaks up.

Criminal #2: “F***! That means I’m twenty-one, too!”

Related:
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 7
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 6
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 5
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 4
The More You Read, The Worse It Gets, Part 3

Tomorrow is July 4^th, so we are closed. We have had signs up for a few weeks stating this.

Customer: “What time do you open tomorrow?”

Me: “Oh, we’re closed tomorrow because of the holiday.”

Customer: “What! But then where am I going to get my breakfast!”

Me: “I don’t know what to tell you; we’ve had signs up for weeks.”

Customer: “You shouldn’t even be celebrating tomorrow! You can have that ‘Cinco No Mayo’ thing off instead!”

Me: “First of all, I’m not Mexican, not that many Mexicans celebrate it anyway, secondly, it’s ‘Cinco De Mayo,’ and most importantly, I am native, not Mexican.”

Customer: “Well, it’s still not your holiday, then!”

Me: “Oh, on that we actually agree! We don’t have an Independence Day…”

I narrow my eyes and stare at him coldly.

Me: “…yet.”

He hurried out, and funnily enough hasn’t been back for breakfast in a few days…

Our school district assigns numbers to the bus routes to differentiate them from each other. While most of our students are fine, if not great, we do have a few that make our jobs as bus drivers difficult. Several happen to be on one route, and the driver is currently on an extended leave. We other drivers have been covering her shifts, and we have been talking a lot about them.

Bus Driver #1: “Oh, my word, have you driven [Absent Driver]’s route? The kids won’t stay in their seats, and they yell the whole time!”

Bus Driver #2: “Yes! I did her route yesterday, and my ears are still ringing.”

Me: “I had to pull over three times to remind them to stay in their seats — once on the shoulder of the freeway.”

Bus Driver #3: “That’s route 333, isn’t it?”

Bus Driver #1: *Checking the route sheet* “Um, yes. 333.”

Me: “How did you remember the route number so easily? Did you drive it recently?”

Bus Driver #3: “Not for a while, no. But if you double the route number… Well, it just makes sense.”