Puts You Into An Angry Welfare State

| AZ, USA | Friendly | September 24, 2015

(I have just finished doing my grocery shopping and am loading my groceries into my car trunk when a middle aged woman approaches me.)

Woman: “Hello there, I just wanted to come over and thank you.”

Me: “Huh? Thank me for what?”

Woman: “For not paying with my tax dollars. Usually when you see a young person with their cart that full they are paying with a welfare card, and you know how this neighborhood is. The people that live around here are what’s wrong with this country. It’s just so nice seeing someone paying with cash for once. I just wanted to let you know I appreciate it.”

(I stand open-mouthed in shock for a moment, and she turns to walk away humming happily to herself.)

Me: “Yeah, well, I DON’T appreciate it. Why don’t you mind your own f****** business?!”

Woman: “Excuse me?! I think it IS my business when people eat up MY tax money.”

Me: “No, it’s not your business to watch other people to see what they pull out of their wallets. You weren’t even behind me in line; you were spying on me from another lane because you looked at me and thought I must be on welfare?! That’s what you wanted to let me know?”

(The woman turns red and splutters.)

Me: “And by the way, just because this is a working class minority neighborhood doesn’t mean everyone here is on welfare. In fact, everyone who ends up on welfare is a tax paying citizen, too. Did that ever occur to you? What makes you think your fraction of a penny gives you the right to judge? I think holier-than-thou racists like YOU are what’s wrong with this country!”

(The woman harrumphed and stomped off across the parking lot. The real kicker was that my cart was only filled with about $30 worth of cheap produce staple items like cabbage and potatoes.)

Very Slow Burn

| Victoria, BC, Canada | Right | September 23, 2015

(I am working in a large grocery store on a busy Saturday. Each till has at least eight people in line, and I can’t even see the end of the queue. I am scanning items as quickly as I possibly can and have not made any mistakes. My next customer is a lady with two overflowing carts of groceries, so I greet her and start scanning her items at my usual pace.)

Customer: “SLOW DOWN!”

Me: *startled* “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “SLOW DOWN! I don’t like it when you scan my items so quickly.”

(I double check her bill but see no mistakes.)

Customer: “And I like to watch you scan every item so don’t touch another thing until I’m done unloading!”

(The line up is still quite long behind her, and she has barely unloaded any items onto the belt. No amount of reasoning will convince her to let me start scanning her items until she has unloaded each product, one by one.)

Me: *resumes scanning*

Customer: “I said not so fast! Do I have to report you to your manager?”

(In the end I had to scan her items at a snail’s pace, several people change queues, and when she finally pays and leaves she’s still muttering about reporting me to my manager.)

Next Customer: “Please scan my items as quickly as you’d like. I don’t mind!”

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Needs To Quit Doing That

| Calgary, AB, Canada | Working | September 23, 2015

(There is a coworker who shares the same first name with me. Ever since he started working here, the two of us are constantly mixed up by one of the managers. Normally it is nothing serious, such as calling me and then having to clarify he meant the other one or something similar. I notice that I am suddenly not getting any more shifts. Curious, I head in and see the manager is in, apparently annoyed.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager]. Something wrong?”

Manager: “It seems [Coworker with same name] wants me to fire him. Hasn’t shown up for any shifts lately, and now won’t to answer his cell.”

Me: “If you want, you can give me the shifts he’s working. I haven’t worked anything for a couple weeks now.”

Manager: *gives me an odd look* “That’s because you quit. You don’t work here anymore.”

Me: *surprised* “What?! Since when?”

Manager: “You handed in your two weeks notice. Once that was done, you were let go.”

Me: “That wasn’t me! I came here wondering why I wasn’t getting any shifts!”

(This only seems to confuse Manager even more, but then seems to notice something.)

Manager: “Wait, aren’t you [My Name, Other Coworker’s surname]?”

Me: “No, I’m [My Name, My surname]!”

Manager: “…Wait here a second.”

(He heads to the back. A couple minutes later, he returns with a letter. Indeed it’s a two-week’s notice… for the coworker with the same name.)

Manager: “…I got your names mixed up again, didn’t I?”

Me: “Looks that way.”

Manager: “Don’t worry; I’ll get this fixed ASAP. Sorry about that. Should have thought it was weird that you quit so suddenly when [now former Coworker with same name] kept talking about finding a new job.”

(To his credit, the Manager had me working again within the week, and even got my pay back to what it was from the previous raises I had earned instead of minimum wage. He even added another raise shortly after, as ‘an apology for firing the wrong [My Name].’)

Credited With Having No Children

| Canberra, ACT, Australia | Right | September 23, 2015

Me: “Enter your PIN, sir.”

(He does, and then removes card straight away, not waiting for the machine.)

Me: “Sir, it looks like you pulled out early—”

Customer: “Story of my life! It’s why I don’t have kids.”

(The next customer and I burst out laughing.)

Blunt Answers Are Your Best Protection

| BC, Canada | Friendly | September 22, 2015

(I’m an unmarried 24-year-old woman living in a very religious town. I’m at the grocery store, scanning my loot through the self-checkout. Next to me there’s a stuffy-looking old couple in their 70s. The poor husband is trying to scan their groceries while his wife snipes at him, telling him he’s doing everything wrong. The old hag spies me scanning a box of condoms. I see her eyes do a little flick down to my (bare) left ring finger and back up to my face. Her eyes narrow and she snaps:)

Woman: “Young lady, why are you buying THOSE?”

Me: *so taken aback and offended that I reply, probably too loudly* “Because I have sex.”

(She doesn’t say another word, not to me or to her husband. I pay for my groceries and laugh all the way to the car.)

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