(This was relayed to me by my roommate, who works in the deli of a store.)
Customer: “Hi, I want some sandwich meat, but I’m on a diet so I can’t have anything with too much salt.”
Roommate: “Well, our beef has no added salt, so that should work for you.”
Customer: “Oh, no, I’m lactose intolerant. Unless your beef only comes from boy cows?”
(I work in the produce department and am just straightening out the floor displays, when a customer walks up to me. Keep in mind I’m about 20 years old.)
Customer: “Excuse me, do you know where your bathroom is?”
Me: “Sure, ma’am, it’s up next to the sandwich shop on the right.”
(I go back to work but notice she’s still standing next to me, just staring at me.)
Customer: “Young man, how do you expect to get into college with an attitude like that?”
Me: “Well, that statement would make sense if we were talking two years ago.”
Customer: “What are you referring to?”
Me: “I’m referring to the fact that I’m going to be a junior in college in the fall, and I was a senior in high school two years ago.”
(I notice she is still standing next to me, but continue to straighten product out.)
Customer: “What college are you going to?”
Me: “[University Name].”
Customer: “What field of study?”
Me: “Electrical Engineering.”
(The customer turned and walked away.)
Customer: Excuse me, would you have a cloth I can use to clean my glasses?
Me: Sure, you can borrow mine.
Customer: Thanks! *proceeds to SPIT ON HIS LENSES and use MY cloth to wipe them clean!*
Me: … you know what, keep it. *I always have a spare in my locker, but you know… ew?!*
(I am shy, but can handle being around small crowds. My mom is the complete opposite: outgoing and unafraid to say what she thinks. While out shopping, my mom leaves me with the cart in the middle of produce section. I push myself to the side to not be in people’s way. The cart already has some items in it, and I am standing close to it while looking at some fruit. All of a sudden, an old man comes and takes the cart.)
Me: “Excuse me; I believe that is my cart, not yours.”
Old Man: *looks at me like I have three heads, frowns, and leaves with the cart*
(I told my mom and she got mad at me, and sent me to get another cart. As we were moving to another section of the store, I saw the old man look into his cart, realize it wasn’t his, and just push it away in rage.)
(I manage the deli section of my store. Today I’m inventorying the cooler, when one of my employees enters.)
Me: “What do you need?”
Employee: “[Brand of cheese]. I’m making a racist sandwich for a customer.”
Me: “You’re making a WHAT?”
Employee: *cheerfully* “A racist sandwich!”
Me: “What the h*** is a racist sandwich?”
Employee: “Plain white turkey and plain white American cheese, on plain white bread, with plain white mayo. You know, a sandwich for somebody who’s so terrified of dark-colored people that they can’t even eat dark-colored food. Also known as a ‘Klanwich.’”
Me: “…Are you serious right now?”
Employee: “It’s totally true. Remember that scene in ‘American History X’ where the fat guy won’t eat the black jellybean?”
Me: “That was a MOVIE.”
Employee: “Hey, truth in fiction or whatever. Besides, this is the South. Pretty much everybody here’s a racist.”
Me: “You didn’t call it a racist sandwich where the customer could hear you, did you?”
Employee: *cheerfully* “I’m pretty sure he couldn’t hear me!”
Me: *putting down my notebook and grabbing the cheese* “I’ll help the customer. You stay in here and skewer chickens.”
Employee: “I don’t wanna do that, that’s gross.”
Me: “It’s less gross than whatever’s going on inside your head!”
