(I’m pregnant, which means I can’t carry anything heavier than five pounds. My boyfriend and I are checking out at the store. One of the things we’re buying is a six-pound package of pork, so when the cashier bags it, I wait for my boyfriend to pay so he can move it.)
Customer: “Wow, you’re lazy!”
Me: “Huh?”
Customer: “Not moving the bag that’s pretty clearly there. Waiting for your manservant to get it?”
Me: “I can’t pick it up.”
Customer: “Why? Because you’re a lazy fat-a**?”
Boyfriend: “No, she’s pregnant and picking it up could cause us to lose the baby. Now f*** off and mind your own business.”
(The customer glares at us and walks off. My boyfriend apologizes to the cashier.)
Boyfriend: “Sorry about the language.”
Cashier: “Don’t worry about it; I would have said the same thing.”
(I am a technician. I am fixing a blood pressure testing machine at the local supermarket when a man comes up wanting to have his blood pressure checked.)
Me: “Sorry, I’m not quite done here. I’ll have it up and running in a few minutes.”
Customer: “You aren’t really fixing that; you’re just stealing the electricity to power your laptop!”
(My laptop is indeed sitting beside me, not even plugged into anything.)
Me: “No, I’m not.”
Customer: “Would you like me to call a manager?”
Me: “Please, do it!”
(He didn’t.)
(I’ve always believed in answering my sons’ questions honestly. On the road to a grocery one day, one of them asks how babies are made. I explain. The four-year-old looks very thoughtful while we shop. However, he stays quiet until we are surrounded by senior citizens in the checkout line. Then, loudly and clearly, he asks:)
Son: “But how does the sperm get to the egg?”
(I’ve just started college, and am working a register, when a kid who looks to be about 14 sets a six-pack of beer on the counter. Our store has partnered with the state to send “testers” through random cashiers’ lines to make sure we are only selling liquor to those over 21.)
Me: “Can I… help you?”
Kid: “Yeah, give me the beer.”
(I glance down at the logo on his shirt and fight back a grin.)
Me: “Nope. Not a chance, kid. Get out.”
Kid: “Good job! You passed your test!”
Me: “No offense, kid, but I saw that one coming a mile away.”
Kid: *genuinely surprised* “But I was convincing! I’m a good actor! How did you know?”
Me: *points at his shirt* “[High School] mascot. I graduated from there last year. And your shirt has your grad year on it, freshman.”
Kid: “DANG IT!”
(It still counted as a pass, and I got commended by my manager!)
(It’s mid-November, and everyone and their cousin is in the store buying food for their Thanksgiving dinner. I’m manning the register, desperately trying to keep up with endless line of people, when a customer comes up with one of our frozen turkeys in his cart.)
Customer: “Hi, can I ask you a question?”
Me: *glances at the five person line* “Sure.”
Customer “Great. I’m having some friends over for Thanksgiving, and two of them are vegetarian.”
Me: “Okay. What’s your question?”
Customer: *he points to the frozen turkey* “Is turkey vegetarian?”
Me: *blinks a few times* “Well, I imagine it WAS vegetarian, sir.”
Customer: “Okay, thanks.”
(He turns and heads back into the store.)
Customer Behind Him: “Did that—?”
Me: “Yes. Now, how can I help you?”
