His IQ Is Under 18

| CA, USA | Working | April 5, 2014

(It is 2013. I am 20 years old and I stop buy the gas station store on my way back from a walk.)

Me: “Can I get a $2 scratcher ticket, please.”

Cashier: “Can I see ID?”

Me: “Sure!” *shows ID that clearly states my birthday and in big letters: ’18 in 2011’*

Cashier: *stares blankly* “You are over 18?”

Me: “Yes. I was born in 1993.”

Cashier: *looks down at ID again* “So you are over 18?”

Me: “Yes. I am 20. I turned 18 two years ago.”

Cashier: *looks at me really confused and back down at my ID*

Me: *slightly frustrated* “I was born in 1993, it is 2013. It has been 20 years.”

(By this point another customer has gotten behind me in line and witnessed the exchange.)

Cashier: *blankly* “So you are over 18?”

Next Customer Behind Me: “Dude, she is clearly over 18! Just give her the d*** ticket already!”

(After looking at my ID again and handing back my ID really tentatively, the cashier finally sells me the ticket. I grab it and as I rush out. I mutter thanks to the other customer. I am guessing the cashier was either having a long day, or was just really bad at simple math.)

Not One’s Cup Of Tea

| Brisbane, QLD, Australia | Right | March 30, 2014

(I am waiting in line at a petrol station that sells coffees, snacks, and other small grocery items as well as petrol. The customer in front of me is speaking to the cashier.)

Customer: “I just want two tea bags, please.”

Cashier: “Do you mean you want two teas to go?”

Customer: “No, I just want to pay for two tea bags on their own.”

Cashier: “I’m sorry. We can’t just sell you individual tea bags. We have boxes of 20 tea bags over on the shelves that you can buy.”

Customer: *getting annoyed* “I don’t understand. Can’t you just take two tea bags from the box and sell them to me?”

Cashier: “No, we can’t do that.”

(The customer turns to me with a look of disbelief on her face.)

Customer: *to me* “Why can’t they just sell me two tea bags?!”

Me: “Because they don’t have individual tea bags as an item in their computer system so they can’t just charge you for this arbitrary item. They are not items that are for sale individually.”

Customer: “Ugh! Who asked you, anyway?!”

Me: “Uh, YOU did.”

(The customer leaves in a huff while shooting me a dirty look.)

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Washing Himself Of The Situation

| CA, USA | Friendly | February 18, 2014

(I’m a six foot tall black man and am dressed casually, but nothing dirty or torn. I pull up to a gas station to fill up my car and notice that my windshield is somewhat messy. I get a couple of paper towels and the squeegee and begin to clean my windshield. There’s another car parked next to me with a young guy pumping his gas. I’m minding my own business. A girl comes out of the gas station, then starts to wander in my direction.)

Girl: “Hey, you in the hat!”

Me: *glances over at her*

Girl: *in an incredibly condescending tone* “You wanna washa my window for two dolla?”

Me: “Hmm. I have a better proposition. How about I give you $20 to s*** my d***?”

(I notice that the other customer is now paying attention to this girl and me.)

Girl: “I’m not a prostitute! I’m insulted! I’m a—”

Me: “—it doesn’t matter what you are. Just like you’re outraged to be called a prostitute, I’m insulted to be called a $2 window washer. So if you don’t want to be insulted, maybe you shouldn’t insult others, hmm?”

Girl: “It was just a joke!”

Me: “The joke, my dear lady, is you.”

Girl: *storms off*

(The other customer doesn’t say a word. He just walks over to me, holds up his hand for a high-five. I give him one, and then he gets in his car and drives off.)

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Reinvent The Simple Comment

| OK, USA | Working | January 29, 2014

(A few weeks earlier I refilled a propane tank at a branch of a huge, multi-national oil/gas corporation. The clerk was a pleasant older gentleman whose demeanor totally cheered me up. I thought I would put in a good word so I asked for a comment form. I filled it out and mailed it. I get a phone call.)

Representative: “Hi. I’m [Name] with [Oil Company].”

Me: “Hi. Anything I can do for you?”

Representative: “We’re just trying to figure out your complaint.”

Me: “What complaint?”

Representative: “You sent us a complaint.”

Me: “I sent a comment card. The clerk that day was very nice and helpful.”

Representative: “…”

Me: “It wasn’t a complaint.”

Representative: “I’m not sure how to file this.”

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Driving Down Route 66(6)

| VA, USA | Right | January 28, 2014

(It is late evening, a few days before Halloween. My coworker at the register has been dealing with an irate woman for several minutes. She is ranting about the cheap decorations hanging on our door. As a result a line is forming behind her.)

Customer: “I’ll never shop here again! Everything in here is cursed! You’ll be attracting the demon spawns of the devil!”

(I come up to the second register to deal with the line forming behind the customer. Most of the other customers shift over to me, but one younger woman is watching the first customer rant. Suddenly, the younger woman turns and runs out of the store. And a second later, she comes back in wearing the most amazing, and yet disgusting, full-head mask I’ve ever seen. It looks like a rotting deer, complete with antlers, shaggy fur, and wide dead white eyes. The younger woman walks up to the ranting customer and clears her throat loudly.)

Younger Woman: *to my coworker* “Dude, I need $20 on pump four for my ‘Hell-mobile.'” *turns to the first customer* “And what’s your problem with us demons, anyway? Even the devil needs a place to buy gas and beer.”

(The first customer turns and stares at the younger woman for a long moment. Then the first customer actually screams and runs out of the store, leaving all of her items behind.)

Younger Woman: “I hope that lady wasn’t buying gas. I don’t think she’s coming back.”

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