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I Hear The Gossip Columns Are Juicy

, , , | Right | February 18, 2009

(A customer walks in with a very full backpack.)

Customer: “Hi, I’d like to trade you.”

Me: “Um, we don’t actually trade things; we sell food.”

Customer: “Well, I’ve got this whole bag of stuff for you.”

(He opens the bag and shows me magazines, forks, and spoons.)

Me: “Sir, you have to use money to buy the food.”

Customer: “Let me talk to your manager.”

(I call the manager, who walks over.)

Customer: “Come on, man. This magazine must be worth at least… carrots.”

Manager: “Here’s a trade for you: money for food.”

Customer: *walks out*

You’re Only As Old As You Act

, , , , , , , | Right | February 17, 2009

(An elderly woman well into her 70s comes through the check-out line with a single bottle of wine. I start to scan the bottle through.)

Customer: “Wait! Aren’t you going to check my ID?”

Me: “Er, no, ma’am, I don’t think it’s really necessary.”

Customer: “Well, that’s no good! You should check all ID if you’re selling alcohol.”

Me: “Well, okay. May I see your ID, please?”

(She hands over an ID card that is obviously fake.)

Me: “Ma’am… this card says you’re seventeen.”

Customer: “Oh, dear! You’ve caught me! I’m much too young to be buying this! It’s a good thing you were checking IDs. I’d better just go now! *skips out the door*

Me: “…”


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Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Stuffing

, , , | Right | February 13, 2009

Customer: *ordering stuffing*” I want that container. That one in the middle, yep.”

Me: “Do you want this whole thing full?”

Customer: “Oh, god, no. I want a little more than a half… but a little less than a third. Not too much.”

I Say Tomato, You Say Purple Shtinkelfurter

, , , | Right | February 10, 2009

Customer: “Hey, do you have any of them Red Rushkies?”

Coworker: “Sorry?”

Customer: “You know, Red Rushkies?”

Coworker: “Err… no, I’m sorry. I don’t think we stock those.”

Customer: “Yeah, you do, I buy them here all the time! Where are they?”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, we don’t have anything called ‘Red Rushkies’ here.”

Customer: *sighs* “I’ll find them myself.”

(There’s a pause of a few minutes, and then the customer comes back with a bag of raw peanuts.)

Customer: “There you go!”

Coworker: “Oh! Peanuts?”

Customer: “Yeah! That’s what I said!”

Eau De Customer

, , , , , , | Right | February 2, 2009

(This is a lake town in New Hampshire, so we see a lot of Quebecers in the summer.)

Mother: “What’s wrong with your lake?”

Me: “I’m sorry? What do you mean?”

Mother: “Your lake is bad. There’s something nasty in it.”

Me: “Well, I don’t know about that… I myself swim in there fairly often…”

Mother: “Well, your lake has made my son smell like garbage! Your lake must have garbage in it!”

Me: “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s just not true.”

Mother: “You must have built up resistance or something. Here, smell him.” *pushes son towards me*

Me: “Excuse me? I’d rather not smell your son.”

Mother: “So you admit that he smells like garbage from your lake! You people should do something about this.” *takes her groceries and leaves, smiling in a superior fashion*

Coworker: “Did she seriously want you to smell her son?”