Another last-day-zero-f***s story! I am bagging the items on my last day ever before college. Two guys in fancy suits are discussing some money- and banking-related matters as I bag.

Customer #1: *Looking at me but talking to [Customer #2]* “Let’s talk about this later. We shouldn’t be talking about this in public.”

Customer #2: *Looking at me* “What, him? He doesn’t understand what we’re talking about. There’s no way he’s on our level.”

Me: “That’s right. No way could I ever stoop that low.”

Customer #2: “You can’t be saying that to me!”

Me: “And you shouldn’t be discussing client’s tax evasion so loudly when I’ve already seen that you pay with [Big American Bank] business card.”

The rest of the bagging was completed in silence, and the next week, I started my first day of going to college for my business degree!

This just happened at the supermarket tonight. I had a fairly full cart, and when the cashier finished scanning my groceries and gave me my final total, I noticed that it was absurdly high.

Then, I saw that one of the last charges read, “LV CRB BUSH — $179.99.”

I didn’t even know the supermarket sold anything that expensive. I asked the cashier what the charge was, and she squinted at it and said she wasn’t sure. Then, it occurred to me that maybe “LV CRB BUSH” was short for “bushel of live crabs,” which, I guess, in theory, could cost that much. I don’t know; never bought live crabs.

Me: “Is that… a bushel of live crabs?”

Cashier: “Yeah, I think so. Is that something you didn’t buy?”

I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m also not exactly sure what to say.

Me: “I’m pretty sure I’d remember buying a bushel of live crabs.”

The cashier tried to figure out which of my items rang up that way, but it had all been bagged, and there was no way to figure it out without starting the whole giant transaction again. Then, she tried to void that sale, but for whatever reason, the computer wouldn’t let her. She summoned a manager.

Cashier: “How do I take this off?”

Manager: “What, he doesn’t want it anymore?”

Cashier: “No, he says he never bought it.”

Me: *Trying to be helpful* “I did not buy a bushel of live crabs.”

The manager pressed some magic buttons, and $179.99 was deducted from my final total. Phew.

Me: “Do you even sell live crabs?”

Cashier: “No.”

I work at the deli counter of a grocery store, and today we are running a special on ribs. There is only one serving of ribs left on the display counter, and a gentleman comes by and asks for two. Coincidently, the other two servings in the oven have just finished cooking.

After I sell those, I see another gentleman angrily storm up to the counter. A younger coworker begins to serve him as he begins to talk/yell at her. I’m packing up the last serving of the ribs to put on the counter when he starts laying into me with his tragic tale of woe.

Customer: “Why don’t you have any more ribs?! They’re on special! You should have them!”

Me: “I just have this one special left, but you’re welcome to it. It’s the last one for a while. We have to go put some more in the oven to keep up.”

Customer: “Why don’t you have any more ribs?! This is unacceptable!”

Me: “Sir, I have some right here if you’d like them. If you want more than just one, it takes twenty minutes to cook. But like I said, I have one right here.”

I try to hand him the serving of ribs.

Customer: “I can’t believe you would have a special and just not have any!”

I see that I can’t get through to this guy.

Me: “All right, sir, have a good day.”

And I go back to work on other things.

After that, the customer storms off to the front where the cashiers are to complain. The cashier manager comes over to speak with me.

Manager: “Why don’t we have any more rib specials? Do we not have any in the back? Also, the customer complained that you spoke rudely to him.”

I walk around the counter and pick up the ribs that are still there.

Me: “We have one left, and I tried to tell him that, but he was more interested in being upset than actually getting the ribs.”

The cashier manager looks at the ribs and then at me, realizing there’s no way I can be at fault.

Manager: “Uh… Oh, okay, then.” *Pauses* “Don’t forget to speak politely to customers.” *Walks off*

Me: “O… kay…”

(I am out shopping with my mom. At the front of the store is the seasonal display. Because Christmas is over, they have pulled all the Christmas stuff off the seasonal display.)

Mom: “NOOOOO!”

Me: “What?”

Mom: “That!”

(I look over and see that the seasonal display is now full of Valentine’s Day stuff.)

Mom: “It’s not right! It’s the day after Christmas!”

My local supermarket does a food drive for a local and large food kitchen year-round, but during the November/December weeks, they add a bonus in: whatever gets donated, they will match it. Double the donations for no extra effort!

In previous years, I have been living paycheck-to-paycheck. I’ve never had to use the soup kitchen, but I’ve always been aware of it. So, when I realised I had extra in my bank account last year, I jumped on that double-your-donation drive and filled up a trolley with $100 of whatever non-perishable goods my friends and I could think of that might be enjoyed and used by the kitchen.

This year, I had a promotion at this new well-paying job, so I had even more money. I figured I’d do a bigger trolley this year! I meant to go as I had last year before Christmas, but with one thing and another, the feast was upon us, and I’d missed my pre-holiday window. But rather than let that stop me, I finished work on Boxing Day, made sure the supermarket was still open for a little bit longer — around half an hour by the time I’d walked there — and got there before it closed.

Every single staff member I talked to was wonderfully kind and polite. To them, I must have seemed like a nightmare, showing up just before closing in a busy time of year with a trolley that was just bursting with stuff. The cashier I got had just been pulled to open a new lane because the lines were piling up and got to stare down the barrel of this monster trolley.

One person working on stock was more than willing to drop what they were doing to run up the ladder and fetch me trays of items from the cages over the shelves and fetch me a larger trolley as I realised I’d foolishly taken a small one. They even took a few extra moments to look through the trays of cans I was after and specifically picked ones that were well-wrapped — both so it was easier to lift them but also to make his colleagues’ time counting them easier as they would be able to see the items hadn’t been tampered with.

The cashier was a wonder. Even though I could see that look of panic as the items started piling up, no unkind words were spent, and they took care that none of the fragile breakfast foods were crushed as I unpacked the can trays from the depths. They had one of those annoying systems that wouldn’t let them key in multiples, so everything had to be counted through. I made sure to put all the same items together and they absolutely nailed the speed factor — something anyone who’s done a register knows gets more difficult but also easier when you just want to get home.

Not a single one of them was anything but warm and kind, and one of them boggled when I walked back to customer service with the fully-paid mess, waited for my turn, and then told them this was all for the food drive. They had to get a duty manager down to put it somewhere special. All managed with ten minutes to spare until closing.

It would have been so easy for someone to roll their eyes or make a sarcastic comment, to sigh or huff, or just be robotic. But this staff made the whole trip a joy.