I’ve started a new job in retail, and it’s one of my first weeks on register duty. I am still learning the keys. Keying in multiple items, e.g., ten chocolate bars, instead of scanning them one by one requires a supervisor code.

A well-dressed man comes through my line with thirty-two cups of instant noodles of varying flavours and varying amounts of each. I lose count with all the beeps and all of the slightly different cups, so I accidentally ring up thirty-five cups.

He pays and the receipt prints. He checks it and immediately has half his body shoved through a gap in the Plexiglas screen. (This is during social distancing.)

Customer: “What are you trying to do here? I bought thirty-two, and you rang up thirty-five!”

Me: “Sorry, sir, it was an honest mistake. Let me just—” 

Customer: “‘Honest mistake’, my a**! That was intentional so you lowlifes can steal my money!”

Me: “I can assure you, sir, I merely miscounted, but if I could just—” 

Customer: “How hard can it be to count? Did you fail math class?”

Me: “It was an honest mistake because it’s so many—”

Customer: “I bet that’s what you always do with the old ladies to rip them off! They’re old and senile, so they won’t notice you pocketing some extra money!”

I drag my wallet out of my pocket.

Me: “You know what, sir? I overcharged you — what, three times forty cents. Here, you can have 1.20€ out of my own pocket; you clearly need it more than a broke university student.”

Customer: “How dare you?! I want to speak to your boss!”

Me: “He is not in anymore; he already went home. He will be here tomorrow after eight.”

Customer: “Give me his name! And your name! I will complain about you! I will write a letter!”

At this point, the young woman behind him interrupts his tirade and screams at him.

Next Customer: “Just piss off already! Seeing how you dress, you’d think you’re well-off, but to be such a b**** over such a minor mistake?! F****** cheapskate! You got your money, so take your s***ty cup-noodles and f*** off!”

The man just went, “Well, I never!”, huffed, and finally did f*** off.

The woman, the coworker on a register behind me, and I had a good laugh about that man.

Since the original story took place in Germany and the participants were speaking German, I have changed the relevant details, so the punchline works in English.

My grandmother is talking to her neighbour.

Neighbour: “You know, all my life I’ve lived in places beginning with B. This place is the first that doesn’t.”

Grandma: “Well, you could just put a ‘B’ at the beginning of the village signs.”

Neighbour: “You do realise we live in Allsville?”

One of the comments on this story reminded me of one of my teachers and his… distracted approach to teaching. He would talk to you about something you did that he didn’t like, you’d tell him why you did it and/or apologize, he’d agree with you, and then, he’d completely forget that the conversation ever happened.

For example, I liked doodling. It helped me focus, which was dearly needed because [Teacher]’s teaching style could be pretty boring. But every time he called on me in class, I could answer his question or at least explain why I didn’t know the answer, so it was obvious that I was actually listening, even if I wasn’t looking. Even then, I often raised my hand without him prompting me, and I always did most of the work in all group projects.

One day, [Teacher] asked all of us individually to come outside so he could talk with us about our grades, especially how we behaved during class and how much we participated.

Teacher: “Sorry, I can only give you a C.”

That’s eight points, for the German readers.

Teacher: “You are not paying enough attention.”

Me: “But I am.”

Teacher: “No, you’re doodling the whole time. It doesn’t look like you’re listening to anything I say.”

Me: “But… I am? I can answer your questions every time. Doodling actually helps me listen and focus. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m ignoring you, but I promise you, I’m not. You can test me if you want.”

As if he hadn’t been doing that already…

Teacher: “Well, okay. I think I understand what you mean. I’ll definitely keep it in mind.”

A couple of months later, he talked to us again about our participation grade. I had tried to look more attentive, and I was sure that I’d get a better grade. But alas…

Teacher: “I’m sorry, but it’s just a C again. I thought you wanted to improve?”

Me: “I… have improved. I thought I had.”

Teacher: “You’re still doodling!”

Me: “But I told you why, and you said you understood. And I still participate, answer questions, and do every task you give to us, most of the time even faster than the rest of the class.”

Teacher: “Sorry, but you really need to stop being distracted.”

The best part is that he taught “pedagogy”, which is not very common in Germany. In our case, it was basically how kids learn and how to best educate them and stuff like that. None of us ever found out how he got to teach this specific class, but it couldn’t have been his amazing skills or understanding nature.

Related:
The Early Days Of Lieutenant Literal

When my dad was younger, he worked as a beer tapper in a bar in Germany that made their own beer.

Customer: *Jokingly* “I want a beer with the foam head at the bottom!”

My father took a glass, filled it up to the top with a nice head, put a beer mat on top of it, quickly flipped the glass 180°, and pushed it toward the customer.

The customer tipped him twenty and went back to his buddies with the flipped beer!

My family is checking in to a hotel, and the receptionist asks his usual questions

Receptionist: “Do you have any questions?”

My younger brother (kindergarten age) chimes in

Brother: “I have a question. Is that your snooker table in the other room?”

Receptionist: “Yes, the pool table belongs to the hotel.”

Brother: “Can I please play?

Receptionist: “No, we don’t let children play.

Brother: “Oh. Okay.”

The next evening, we are sitting in the hotel restaurant. After ordering, the waitstaff turns to my brother.

Waitstaff: “I heard you wanted to play with our pool table?”

Brother: “Yes, I wanted to play snooker, like on TV. But the other man said children can’t play here.”

Waitstaff: “You know, we decided to make an exception for you.

Mom: “That’s not necessary.”

Waitstaff: “I know, but everyone here agrees. It would be nice to have a guest play on that table who doesn’t behave like a toddler.”

Brother: “I’m not a toddler; I’m going to kindergarten!”

Waitstaff: “I’ve had guests much older than you who would scream and punch things for being told ‘no’.”