A Sleepwalk To Remember

| | Right | June 9, 2009

(I work in customer service, where tobacco products and lottery tickets are purchased.)

Me: “Do you need any cigarettes or lotto with that today, ma’am?”

Customer: “Excuse me?!”

Me: “Do you need any cigarettes or lotto today?”

Customer: “What do you mean by that?”

Me: “…do you need to purchase any cigarettes or lotto today?”

Customer: “But, what do you mean by that?”

Me: “I mean…do you want to buy cigarettes or lotto today?”

Customer: *blank stare* “What?”

Me: “Do you know what cigarettes and lotto are?”

Customer: *shakes head* “Um…” *confused look*

(I explain to her what cigarettes and lotto are, then I ring the lady’s purchase in and put it in a bag. She punches in her number for her debit card but stops halfway through and looks at me.)

Customer: “Aw crap, I forgot to buy my cigarettes.”

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Dinner Without A Show Is No Dinner At All

| | Right | June 4, 2009

(I’m cashing out a customer and bagging his groceries.)

Me: “And what’s in your bakery bag, sir?”

Customer: “A cantaloupe. I put it in there to get ripe.”

Me: “OK…”

Customer: “You know what they do in California? They JUGGLE the fruit – the cantaloupes and the mangoes and the apples and such.”

Me: “Oh, that must be neat to see–”


Me: *laughing* “That’d be interesting, but I don’t know how to juggle.”

Customer: “You mean to tell me you can’t juggle this fruit?”

Me: “I’m afraid not…”

Customer: “Then take the cantaloupe off. I don’t want it if you won’t juggle it for me.”

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Hand Washing’s Heyday Is Gone

| | Right | June 2, 2009

(I was bagging groceries at a till when this occured.)

Me: “Would you like your meat wrapped in plastic?”

Customer: “Why would I want that?”

Me: “Well, it’s to prevent cross contamination. If your chicken were to leak, it could contaminate your beef.”

Customer: “That’s bull!”

Me: “Uh…what?”

Customer: “Cross contamination doesn’t exist any more. It hasn’t for fifty years. Where have you been?”

Me: “…”

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It’s One Big Greasy Conspiracy

| | Right | May 28, 2009

Customer: “Ugh! Everything you make here has canola oil in it. Don’t you know that’s not even food? It’s made from rapeseed, which isn’t even edible!”

Me: “While it’s true you can’t actually eat the plant, canola oil itself is–”

Customer: “It’s all genetically modified. You can’t get canola oil that isn’t genetically modified.”

Me: “Actually, the canola oil we use comes from a company called Spectrum that–”

Customer: “Spectrum!? That’s an Illuminati company!”

Me: “Let me get my manager for you…”

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A Vanessa By Any Other Name

| | Right | May 27, 2009

(As I’m ringing an elderly lady’s groceries through, she reads my name tag incorrectly.)

Customer: “Vanessa…Vanessa! That’s such a lovely name.”

Me: “Oh? Yeah, it is.”

Customer: “Vanessa! Vanessa! Vanessa! Vanessa!”

Me: “It’s great, but I’m not–”

Customer: “Your mother has such good taste! Van-ESSA!”

Me: “Thank you, but–”

Customer: “I bet, when you were young, she’d say things like ‘Vanessa! Get over here! You’re such a naughty girl!'”

Me: “Um, something like that…”

Customer: “Well, you have a great day Vanessa!”

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