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.)

A Sign That Grandpa Is Home

, , , , , , | Related | October 9, 2017

My paternal grandfather was an odd man in many ways, but the one pertaining to this story was the fact that, when he was through with something, that was the end of the discussion in his mind. It was not unusual for him to have one of my aunts drive him forty-five minutes to our house for a visit, as he had no driver’s license, visit with us for less than fifteen minutes, then announce, “Okay, I’m ready to go home!”

He was also infamous for interrupting prayers over meals. If he thought a prayer had gone on long enough, he would shout, “Amen!” and start eating or serving himself. As is the case with a lot of older people, his behavior continued without comment.

When I was five years old, Grandpa passed away. I don’t remember this incident, but according to family legend, I was quiet and well-behaved throughout the entire funeral… until we got to the cemetery. Then, in the middle of the dedicatory prayer over the grave, I spoke up at the top of my five-year-old lungs:

“WHEN ARE WE GOING HOME?!”

At any other funeral, I’m sure the family would have been mortified. But since this was Grandpa, everyone burst into much-needed laughter and remarked, “Yup, she’s Grandpa’s girl.”

Women Being Bad With Technology Is An Old Wives’ Tale

, , , | Right | September 26, 2017

(I work in a photo center in a retail store. Older customers often need help with our clearly-labeled touch screens.)

Me: “Hello, ma’am. Did you need help?”

Customer: “Do this for me.” *hands me a camera*

Me: “I can show you how to use our machine.”

Customer: “No, my husband is sick.”

His Innuendo Sucks

, , , , , | Right | September 21, 2017

(I am working self-checkout at the time of this order. An older gentleman, probably around his early 80s, is having difficulty putting the cash into the bill slot, so I walk over to help him.)

Me: “Hello, sir, did you need any help with that?”

Customer: “Yes, I just can’t figure out where to put my money.”

(I hold my hand out for the money and put it in for him. The machines take the money very quickly, so I make a seemingly innocent comment as joke.)

Me: “Well, that certainly sucked it back very quickly, didn’t it?”

Customer: “Yeah, just like my wife!”

(I didn’t know what to say, so I just told him to have a good day and walked back to my till.)

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