(A man in his early thirties and his grandmother come up to my register and begin unloading groceries.)
Me: “How are you doing today?”
Guy: “I’m doing alright. I’d be better if I had a girlfriend. Are any of your friends single?”
Me: “Uh, nope all my friends are taken. Sorry.”
Guy: “Grandma, did you hear that? All her friends are taken!”
(I am walking down one of our grocery store’s aisles when I overhear a couple talking.)
Husband: “Crap, I dropped my coffee. Honey, find some paper towels.”
Wife: “What?! No! Just leave it there. They have people walk around and clean up these things. It’s fine!”
Husband: “Um, I—”
Wife: “Just leave it! We have too much to do.”
(The wife then turns and sees me. She doesn’t miss a beat.)
Wife: “Someone just dropped this and left it. People are slobs. You should clean this up before someone gets hurt!”
(I work in the kosher section of our deli. I often get questions about what makes our food different from the things sold at other counters at the store.)
Customer: “What’s a kosher chicken?”
Me: “It’s a chicken that was raised, slaughtered, and prepared according to kosher rules.”
Customer: “What’s kosher?”
Me: “It’s Talmudic laws regarding food.”
Customer: “What’s Talmudic?”
Me: “It’s Jewish religious law.”
Customer: “What’s Jewish?”
(I work at the customer service counter at a grocery chain. We sell tickets for the state lotteries. A disheveled-looking gentleman approaches the counter and buys a ticket.)
Customer: “What’s the [lottery name] up to?”
Me: “The current jackpot is [amount].”
Customer: “That’d be kind of nice, you know. I’d be eccentric if I had that much money. Right now, I’m just weird!”
(While working in the store’s meat department cutting links of sausage, I cut my finger very badly. Due to the nature of the cut, I did not feel it at first. By the time I noticed, it I had bled into the sausage. This exchange takes place after I return from bandaging my hand.)
Me: “Is there a special way to dispose of this sausage? Or should I just toss it in the bin?”
Boss: “What are you talking about?”
Me: “Well, I bled all over this meat. It’s sort of a bio-hazard.”
Boss: “No, just put it in the service case. No one will be able to tell. They have to cook it anyway!”
