Expressly Mannerless

| Portland, OR, USA | Right | November 17, 2015

(There are already four checkout lanes open at the store but the lines are still fairly long when the following happens:)

Loudspeaker: “Attention, customers. We have just opened the Express lane for customers with less than 10 items. Again, we have just opened the Express lane for customers with less than 10 items.”

(Several people, including myself move over to the new lane, however we are beaten by Customer who has a cart nearly overflowing with groceries.)

Me: “You know this lane is for 10 items or less, right?”

Customer: “How was I supposed to know that?”

Me: “Well, there’s the sign posted clearly right there, or, if you’re blind, she said it twice when she made the announcement that made you race over here.”

Customer: “Oh, well, I didn’t know” *starts putting groceries on belt*

(Because it’s still faster than moving back to one of the other lines I wait for her to finish.)

Cashier: *when customer has left* “I’m very sorry about that. We’re not allowed to turn anybody away, even if they don’t have any manners.”

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All Cashiers Have Checked Out

| Canada | Romantic | November 12, 2015

(I’m at work on a slow afternoon. A woman and her friend, about twice or three times my age, come in:)

Woman: *comes up to my register* “Hello.”

Me: *looks up* “Hi.”

Woman: *gestures to her male friend* “This is [Man]. His girlfriend broke up with him a few weeks ago.”

Me: “I’m… sorry about that?”

Woman: “And now he’s looking for love. Do you have a boyfriend?”

(Note: I’m single.)

Me: “Yes, I’ve been with my boyfriend for two years.”

Woman: *to her friend* “There’s other cashiers here; we’ll find you one.”

Rotten To The Core

| PA, USA | Right | November 12, 2015

(I’m working as a cashier and doing my best to make cheery small talk with customers. An old man comes through my line.)

Me: “Hello! How are you today, sir?”

Customer: “Terrible!”

Me: “Oh, sorry to hear that, sir.”

Customer: “And how are you?”

Me: “Um, slightly better than terrible, I think.”

Customer: “But you have to work!”

Me: “Yes, but I like my work and it helps pay my student loan bills.”

Customer: “Humph.”

(I finish scanning and bagging his items and print out his receipt.)

Me: “Here you go. I hope your day gets better, sir!”

Customer: “I don’t! I hope it stays ROTTEN!”

The Wheel Keeps On Turning

| Kansas City, MO, USA | Friendly | November 11, 2015

(I am shopping with a friend who often teases me because I seem to end up as the third wheel with her and her boyfriend pretty often. The topic of conversation gets around to some friends of mine who just got married, and how I was their third wheel a few times.)

Friend: “Gosh, [My Name], you are such a good third wheel! When you finally get a boyfriend, can I be your third wheel?”

Me: “Sure, but what are you going to do with your boyfriend?”

Friend: “Oh, I’ll just stick him in a closet somewhere.”

Making The Purchase Takes An (Under)Age

| Wadesville, NC, USA | Working | November 10, 2015

(I’m standing in line waiting to check out at the grocery store. I ask for a pack of cigarettes along with my purchase, and the cashier turns to get them. It should be noted that I am 23 years old at the time. As he turns, I hear a familiar voice from the customer behind me in line. It’s my uncle.)

Uncle: *clearly joking* “Hey, don’t sell those to her; she’s underage!”

Me: *laughing* “Fancy meeting you here! How are you?”

Cashier: “Ma’am, I need to see your ID for these.”

Me: “Sure.” *hands over license*

Cashier: *looks at ID and hands it back* “I’m sorry, ma’am, you need to be 18 to buy tobacco products.”

Me: “I’m 23.” *hands my ID back to him again*

Uncle: “I was joking before. She is not underage.”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you need to be 18.” *shoves my ID back at me again*

Me: “I’m 23… unless you are suggesting that I need to be EXACTLY 18 to buy cigarettes…”

Cashier: “No, you need to be older than 18.” *pauses* “Let me see that ID again.”

Me: *hands over the ID again*

(He studies it for an uncomfortable length of time. My uncle and I are dumbfounded. Finally he hands it back. He seemed satisfied that I am in fact old enough to buy tobacco products. I complete my purchase and wait for my uncle so we can chat.)

Uncle: “May I have a pack of Marlboro Lights, please.”

Me: “Check that ID; I don’t think he’s 18.” *laughing*

Cashier: *chuckling* “I’m so bad at math.”

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