I’m working at the only checkout lane in a small corner shop in a small town in Scotland. The weather has been bad lately, so a lot of locals who usually drive to the larger supermarkets or people who would usually be spending their weekend in the town are forced to use our little shop.

A younger man is in the queue, and he is making his personal distaste for having to wait his turn quite loudly known.

Young Man: “F*** me, this store is slow! What are you doing up there, counting it out on your bloody fingers?”

Me: “Sir, I apologise, but it’s just me today, and we’re not usually this busy. I am going as fast as I can.”

Young Man: “Well, your fast-as-you-can is slower than a snail with [derogatory term for people with a developmental disorder]. Hurry the f*** up!”

At that, the older woman immediately in front of him in the queue turns on him.

Old Woman: “Listen, boy. This is one of the few stores in the area that still accepts checks, I have a big fat checkbook in my bag that I am happy to use, I have nowhere else to be today, and I have forgotten my glasses. Don’t… test me!“

He was silent for the rest of his time in line. The scary old lass somehow got a staff discount… 

Related:
Never Pick A Fight With An Old Scottish Woman, Part 3
Never Pick A Fight With An Old Scottish Woman, Part 2
Never Pick A Fight With An Old Scottish Woman
Tell Me You’re In Scotland Without Telling Me You’re In Scotland
Nothin’ Like A Good Old Existential Meltdown

I give you three instances of my ex that I have since dubbed “The Snap™”, where she could go from 0 to 1000 in an instant.

Example #1:

I’m cooking her dinner.

Me: “Hey, babe, do you want a boiled egg with your curry?”

Ex: *Extremely snappy out of nowhere* “I don’t know. Do you want to be single?”

Me: “…That would be a no, then?”

Ex: “Duh! Boiled eggs are f****** gross! If you like boiled eggs, you’re a psychopath. Why would you even ask me if I want an egg with my curry of all things?”

Me: “Because I like an egg with my curry sometimes. I guess I’m a psycho, then.”

Somehow, she is back to perfectly pleasant after that.

Example #2:

Again, a dinner incident. I planned to make pancakes, but we’re out of jam for topping, so we pop to the store.

Ex: “What flavour jam were you craving?”

Me: “Dunno… I’m a bit fed up with forest fruit, as I always have that.”

Ex: “How about strawberry?” 

Me: “Not really, either. I think I want—”

Cue The Snap™.

Ex: “OH, MY GOD! Forget about the whole f****** d*** jam, then, why don’t you?!”

Me: “—blackcurrant. Uh… is there a problem?”

Ex: *Suddenly sugary sweet again* “No… why?”

Me: “We can get strawberry if you really prefer that.”

Ex: *Still smiling innocently* “No, blackcurrant is fine.” 

These kinds of instances pop up here and there, and when I ask her about it, she first ignores it, but after a while, she confesses that she is going through a burnout and she’s just tired and depressed, and that’s why she’s snappy. We haven’t been dating for three months, and we’re not at an “unconditional love and support” level by a long shot, especially not with the way she has been snapping at me, but I try my best by her. She says she understands that I need some more love and attention than she is giving me, and she urges me to speak up about it when I need it.

So, we come to the scene of the last Snap™.

We’re at her place, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. I open my arms to invite a snuggle, but she claims she is “too tired to even lean across”.

But not two seconds later, she gets up to pluck her cat from the other end of the room and give it a very grand display of hugs and kisses.

Trying to be playful and not too “Hello, I’d like some attention” and on-the-nose with my needs, I say:

Me: “Wow, [Cat] gets so many kisses today! You happen to have one to spare for me?”

Ex: *Snappy thundercloud out of nowhere* “I don’t know. Check under the couch for one for all I care.” 

I broke up with her the week after that, and somehow she was all “Surprised Pikachu Face” about it, even after all this.

We have this creepy older guy who always tries to flirt with the woman working the checkouts, even the part-time new starters who are around sixteen. It’s totally gross.

I’ve rejected him so many times that he’s become a bit bitter and cruel whenever he sees me. This is fine by me, as he usually tries to avoid my checkout lane, but for some reason, I get him today.

Customer: “Oh! It’s you! I didn’t recognise you as you’re actually wearing makeup today! No wonder. It’s amazing how much better you girls look in makeup.”

I try to ignore the remarks and just scan his items.

Customer: “Make sure whoever you’re wearing the makeup for knows what you really look like, eh? Don’t want him to be too shocked when it all comes off!”

My checkout manager has seen who I am currently serving and has wandered over. She strikes up a conversation with me, loud enough for the customer to hear.

Manager: “I’m always concerned for men who complain about how different women look without makeup. Like, do they think eyeshadow is permanent?”

Me: “I know! Like, do these people get scared when people change clothes?”

Manager: “Well… babies have no concept of object permanence.”

And with that, my manager stared pointedly at my customer for a moment before smiling at me and wandering off.

He was noticeably silent for the rest of the transaction.

It’s my first day working at the supermarket after training. I am talking about this to my manager when a customer approaches us.

Customer: “I’m looking for the pyramid tea bags — you know, the ones that grow on the trees? I don’t want those artificial flat ones.”

Me: “Uh… pyramid tea bags don’t—” 

Manager: “Right this way, sir!”

My manager shows him the boxes of tea bags that come in a pyramid shape, designed to improve how well they infuse the water as they steep.

Customer: “Perfect! Thank you!” *Trots off happily* 

Manager: *To me* “If you know what they’re asking for, just take them to it. You’re not paid enough to argue with stupid. None of us are.” 

Related:
Choose Your Battles, Part 9
Choose Your Battles, Part 8
Choose Your Battles, Part 7
Choose Your Battles, Part 6
Choose Your Battles, Part 5

I work in a large membership grocery store quite a few miles outside of town, at the checkouts.

Me: “To pay by credit, press the big ‘credit’ button on the screen. I think it’s the green one.”

Customer: “You think it’s green?”

Me: “Oh, haha, sorry, force of habit. I know it’s green, but I’m colorblind, so I can’t see it.”

Customer: “You’re colorblind?!” 

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

Customer: “How do you get to work all the way out here if you’re colorblind?” 

Me: “Well, I drive. I’m colorblind, not blind-blind.”

Customer: “If you’re colorblind, how do you know when the lights are green?”