That Age-Old Competition

, , , , , , | Friendly | October 20, 2017

(This is my grandma’s story, in which she is a customer and another woman is trying to push into the queue.)

Woman: “Let me in front; I’m 72!”

Grandma: “Well, I’m 81, so get back in line!”

There’s Something About That Trick But You Can’t Put Your Finger On It

, , , , , , , | Related | October 17, 2017

My maternal grandfather had an accident with a power tool when he was younger, leaving him with three partial fingers. His pinky was the shortest, ending at the first knuckle, his ring finger was cut off between the knuckles, and his middle finger at the last knuckle.

One thing he loved to do was wait until a kid was watching him, then start picking his nose with his index finger. After a while he’d switch to his next finger, then the next, watching the kid’s eyes get wider and wider. If you didn’t know he was missing parts of his fingers, it looked like he was shoving them farther and farther up his nose. He would finally move on to his pinky stub, making it look like he had an entire finger shoved up his nostril, while the kid’s eyes bugged out of their head.

One Would Be More Effective Than The Other

, , , | Learning | October 16, 2017

(I am listening to a talk show about Youth Day and the rights of children. Someone who sounds like an old man calls in:)

Caller: “Children have too many rights these days. They are rebellious, and don’t respect their elders. I think we need to bring back capital punishment in schools.”

Host: *long pause* “I think you mean ‘corporal’ punishment.”

On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 13

, , , , , , | Right | October 13, 2017

(It’s a quiet Sunday morning, and I’m the only cashier. An older man who looks at least 70 hobbles up to my register and places a shirt on the counter.)

Customer: “I’d like to get this shirt, and I was told you could also take the sensor tag off these pants I’m wearing so I can buy them.”

Me: “Uh, the pants you have on right now? They’re from here?”

Customer: “Yes. Trying them on tuckered me out, and the girl in the fitting room said you could remove the sensor tag up here at the register.”

(Our sensor-removers are secured to the counter, and I know for a fact that there’s no way this man could manage holding his leg up to get the sensor tag taken off. I stammer for a moment before remembering an unattached sensor tag remover we used for our express lane on Black Friday months ago.)

Me: “Right! Let me just see if someone can get us the sensor-remover we need.”

(I ask over the radio and receive some confusion over why I would need it, but eventually my manager says she’ll go to the lock box in the back and get it.)

Me: “All right, [Manager] is just grabbing that sensor-remover, and then you’ll be good to go!”

Customer: “But I was told that you could remove the sensor tag.”

Me: “Yeah, we can; it’s just that our normal removers are attached to the counter. [Manager] is grabbing the unattached one right now.”

Customer: “Well, I’ve already stood here longer than I can handle. If I have to go take the pants off, I just won’t buy them.”

Me: “No, it’s all right. The sensor-remover is on its way up right now; don’t worry.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous. I was told the sensor could be removed. I won’t buy the pants if I have to go take them off.”

(I’m taken aback by how angry the customer is getting, but thankfully my confused manager arrives at that moment with the unattached remover. I go around the counter and have to crouch down to try and remove the sensor at the bottom of the customer’s pants leg. It’s a tricky process, and I notice the man is balancing on one foot, so I tell him he can put his foot down if it would make him more comfortable.)

Customer: “Actually, I have an open sore on that foot.”

Me: *freezes* “Uh, where is that exactly, so I don’t bump it?”

Customer: “Oh, it’s just on the bottom of my foot.”

(With that gross image in mind, I was finally able to get the sensor removed from the pants. I then had to pull all the tags and stickers off of the pants, getting much closer and more touchy-feely with the customer than I would have ever wanted to. He left without so much as a “thank you,” and I promptly took a much needed break to shake off the heebie-jeebies the whole interaction gave me.)

Perfect Comic Timing

, , , , , | Related | October 12, 2017

(My mom and I are helping my grandparents move closer to home, when my grandma loses her vision completely. She is also diagnosed with the beginnings of dementia, so it’s a bit of a sad change for her and my grandpa. During the move, we go to eat at a restaurant. We have to leave by 1:00 pm to meet a car salesman at a dealership, so my grandparents can sell their car. My phone dies, and my mom leaves her phone in the car, so as we’re preparing to leave, we don’t know what time it is.)

Grandpa: “I don’t want to be late. Why isn’t there a clock in here?”

Mom: “We’re not late, Dad, don’t worry. [My Name], is your phone—”

Me: “Completely dead.”

Mom: “Darn. Mom, you always have a watch. Do you have it with you?”

(We all look at Grandma expectantly and she looks back at us, as best she can, like we’ve lost it.)

Grandma: “What good would that do?”

(Cue us laughing and remembering that my grandma was blind. Out of four people, the one diagnosed with dementia showed the most common sense.)

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