Cashier: “What’s this?”
Me: “That’s an artichoke.”
Cashier: “Oh, I don’t like those.”
Me: “How can you know? 10 seconds ago you didn’t know what it was.”
Cashier: “Um… I don’t like green food.”
(I get home from work to find my wife (who gets home before me) has unpacked the shopping which has been delivered.)
Me: “What do you want for tea?”
Wife: “We were going to have macaroni but we’ll have to have the chicken biryani instead because it goes out of date today. There were six things which go out today, which is outrageous.”
Me: “I thought they were supposed to inform you when they gave you things with today’s use-by date?”
Wife: “So did I. So I rang them up to complain. Such a nice lady, she apologised and gave us a refund on each of these articles.”
Me: “Nice of her.” *goes to fridge* “What, this chicken Biryani? Doesn’t go out of date until Saturday.”
(Today is Thursday.)
Wife: “What! But it distinctly says: use by the 12th.”
Me: “Yes, and today’s the 10th.”
Wife: “Oops.”
(She rang the supermarket back and was really apologetic about it. The woman at the other end was so happy to receive an apologetic phone call she let us keep the refund.)
(I work at a grocery store at the courtesy desk. Our store is relatively new and doesn’t sell cigarettes, unlike most others of the same chain. One day a woman approaches the desk.)
Me: “Hello. How may I help you?”
Customer: “Yes, can I have a carton of Marlboro Lights?”
Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. This [Store] does not sell cigarettes.”
Customer: *shocked and annoyed* “What? Why not?!”
Me: “The owner made the decision not to sell them before he opened this store.”
Customer: “I can’t believe this. That’s just UN-AMERICAN!”
(Her husband who was nearby hears her and walks up.)
Customer’s Husband: Hmm? What’s the matter?
Customer: “This store doesn’t sell cigarettes! Have you ever heard of that before?! It’s just un-American!”
Me: “I’m sorry for the inconvenience. There is a store in the plaza that sells cigarettes just outside here.”
Customer: “I shouldn’t have to! It’s just un-American to not sell cigarettes!”
(The customer storms off leaving me and her husband to just stare in confusion.)
Me: “Have a nice day, sir.”
Customer’s Husband: “Yeah, not when I’m out shopping with her!”
(My mom sent me to the store to pick up a few things on the day of my high school graduation. I approach the cashier, who appears to be at least 30 years old. At this store, the cashiers tend to be really friendly.)
Cashier: “Well, hello there, beautiful!”
Me: “Hi, thanks.”
Cashier: “How are you? Did you find everything? Can I help you find anything more?”
Me: “I’m all set, thanks.”
Cashier: “Wow. You’re really beautiful.”
Me: *really off guard* “Uh… thanks.”
Cashier: “What are you doing later today?”
Me: “…graduating from high school.”
Cashier: “Oh, cool, so you’re 18?”
Me: “No, I’m only 17…”
Cashier: “Oh. Call me in a year.”
(I haven’t seen that cashier since then. I kind of wish that I had told the manager, but I was so weirded out that I just left as fast as I could.)
(It’s 11:20 pm and we close at 11 pm. Cashiers are counting out their tills, stockers are unloading boxes in the aisles, and the cleaning crew is scrubbing the place down. I’m counting lotto tickets behind the customer service desk when one of the cleaning crew comes over.)
Janitor: “Hey, is [Manager] around?”
Me: “No, he’s on the phone with corporate for a while. What’s up?”
Janitor: “You’d better come with me, then.”
(I follow him to the back of the store where the water fountains and bathrooms are, and I hear someone hollering from the men’s room.)
Me: *knocking on the door* “Um, hello, is there someone in there?”
Customer: “Yes! I’ve been sitting here calling for help for almost a half hour!”
Me: “Oh, my god, sir. I’m so sorry. The store closed and no one was around this area. Do you need medical attention?”
Customer: “No, of course not.”
Me: “Oh, uh, did you run out of toilet paper?”
Customer: “No, there’s plenty here.”
Me: “Okay… Then, what did you need help with?”
Customer: “I finished reading this Time magazine I picked up from the book section. Can you bring me the latest issue of Car & Driver?”
(We had to go get the manager, who threatened to charge him with trespassing if he didn’t finish his “business” and get out of the store. The man flushed, didn’t wash his hands, and stormed out the front door.)
Me: “He left the Time magazine in there. You don’t want me to put it back, do you?”
Manager: “H***, no. BURN IT.”
