Colorblind To Reason, Part 2

, , , | Right | March 13, 2019

(I am helping a woman on the phone. She has described a jumper she saw in another store, and I have gone looking for it. There only seems to be one in that style available.)

Me: “I have one, but I can’t be certain it’s correct—“

Caller: “What colour is it?”

Me: *turning to a colleague* “What colour is this?”

Colleague: “Green.”

Me: “Green.”

Caller: “What kind of green?”

Me: “Urgh…”

Caller: “Is it like an apple green, or lime? Hurry up!”

Me: *to a colleague again* “What kind of green?”

Colleague: “The top is kind of acid green, then it’s dark around the middle, and like moss on the bottom.”

(I stare at it, trying to imagine what it’s meant to look like.)

Me: “It’s—“

Caller: “I heard the other woman! Why the h*** are you asking her?”

Me: “I’m colour-blind. I have difficulty telling the difference; everything more or less looks brown to me.”


Me: “You asked for a manager, and I am the only one in during the morning shift.”

Caller: “You’re f****** useless!” *hangs up*

(She came in to purchase the jumper and decided to scold me in front of my staff about how I should have handed her onto a woman — despite her refusing to speak unless it was a manager — and had to forcibly removed when she became belligerent and knocked things off of the shelves near her. My husband later got me some colour-correction glasses that helped me see colour. The first thing I did was find that jumper again. It was hideous.)

Colorblind To Reason

Her Argument Won’t Have A Leg To Stand On

, , , , , , | Friendly | March 13, 2019

I’m taking the bus home. You can meet some… interesting… people on public transportation. This older woman gets in and starts yelling at a man sitting in a disabled seat the moment she sees him.

The man stares at her for a minute, seemingly bored, and then nonchalantly raises his pant leg to reveal a prosthetic. The woman’s expression is priceless. She stutters an apology and then sits far in the back.

What A Total Blood Bowl

, , , , | Right | March 12, 2019

(I have just sold a large “fishbowl” vase to a customer, who declined to have it wrapped since it would only fit in one of our largest bags. I check out another customer after she leaves, and right after I finish, she comes back in.)

Customer: “Hi. Um, this just broke as I was bringing it to my car. I promise I didn’t drop it! There was a crack in the side, and I pushed on it and…”

(She holds up the vase, which does indeed seem to have simply cracked in place and fallen to pieces. No evidence of being dropped.)

Customer: “Can I just get a replacement with no cracks?”

(We will pretty much never turn down requests like this, so one of the other cashiers goes to get one. I notice a small smudge on the vase. Looking closer, I realize it’s blood!)

Me: “Ma’am, are you bleeding? Did you get cut on the vase?”

Customer: “Oh, a little; it’s fine.”

Me: “We have bandaids back here. I can get one—“

Customer: “Oh, that’s not necessary; it’s not bad.”

(She says this, but now that I’m aware of the problem I notice that she is bleeding quite profusely onto the counter. I offer several more times to give her a bandaid and begin rummaging around in the cabinet for one, while she continues to insist she doesn’t need one. The other cashier comes back with the replacement, and she takes it and leaves with an airy, “Thank you!”)

Me: “Don’t pick up that vase yet; she bled on it.”

Coworker: “WHAT?”

(She had bled on the counter, which dripped down the front of it onto the floor… and of course all over the broken vase, which we threw out carefully. We had just gotten the old beige counters replaced with new white ones, as well!)

A Sign You Shouldn’t Worry Too Much

, , , , , | Right | March 10, 2019

(I happen to know American Sign Language. I’m not fluent, but I can carry on a conversation easily. When I work retail, I let deaf customers know so they can sign if they prefer it — for example, people writing questions on pieces of paper or having a family member interpret. A particular deaf customer makes sure he only comes in on my normally-scheduled days because he can communicate with me more easily than he can with my coworkers. One day he is checking out and we have a brief conversation in sign, with no talking, of course. He pays for his purchases and leaves. I turn to the next customer in line, who looks nervous as he approaches my counter.)

Me: *out loud, using my voice* “Did you find everything you needed today?”

Customer: *lets out a big sigh of relief* “Oh, I saw you signing with the other man and thought you were deaf! I was trying to figure out how to talk to you and understand you when it was my turn!”

With Pet Ownership You Can’t Drop The Ball

, , , , , | Related | March 9, 2019

(I just came back from bringing our male cat back from the vet. He’s only eight or nine months old, but I took him in to get fixed, only to end up bringing him back, and trying very hard not to laugh, having learned something new about male cats.)

Mom: “So, uh… Why are you trying so hard to not laugh, and why isn’t Roadie at the vet?”

Brother: “Is my cat okay?!”

Me: “Well, uh… Here’s One-Nut Roadie.” *hands him to my brother and laughs*

Mom: “Wha…”

Me: “So, uh… Apparently, like human males… a male cat’s testicles have to, uh… drop… into his, uh… hangy bit there… and, uh–” *laughing too d*** hard*


Me: “Th-the other may be in his belly still, or it’s about to drop, b-but we don’t have the money right now to have him cut open to get it out.” *still laughing*

Brother: “Really?”

Me: “Now we have No Nuts and One Nut!”

Mom: “I think your sister needs some sleep.”

Brother: “You think?”

(I was sleep deprived, but it still tickles me funny today. I never knew that about a male cat, but I do now!)

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