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Playing Hide And Don’t Seek

, , , , , | Right | September 1, 2008

Bookstore customer: “Do you have the CD, Lord Lift Our Voices Up On High, Volume 11?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, we don’t have it. We do have Volumes 9 and 10. I can show you where they are.”

Customer: “No, no, I already have those. I like them. Do you have God Loves America, Volume 12?”

Me: “Let me check… yes! We have that one. I can show you.”

Customer: “Do you have God Loves America, Volume 11?”

Me: “Yes. I can show–”

Customer: “Do you have God Loves America, Volume 10?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer:Volume 9?”

Me: “Yes.”

(This continues until we get to Volume 3.)

Me: “Would you like to know about Volumes 1 and 2?”

Customer: “No, I have those. I like them. Have you heard them?”

Me: “No… so, let me just get these CDs for you.”

Customer: “No thanks.”

(I’ve been helping her for nearly 20 minutes, and suspect she has mental issues; thankfully, she goes away. Ten minutes later, I hear the same customer speak up loudly behind me.)

Customer: “Well, I don’t want to go to the doctor tomorrow, but they tell me I have to.”

Me: “Oh, uh, ehrm… yeah?”

Customer: “Yeah. Colonoscopy. I don’t want to, but they have to find out where the bleeding’s coming from.”

Me: *whimpers*

(At this point, I leave the music department and hide between the far right security sensor and a book display just outside it. The store manager walks by and sees me.)

Manager: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Hiding from a customer who was telling me about her upcoming colonoscopy! She says they have to find out where the bleeding’s coming from!”

Manager: “You can stay.”


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Why Don’t You Call The Cops On ‘Em

, , , , | Right | August 30, 2008

(The number to our police department is only one digit off from a doctor’s office, so we often get wrong numbers.)

Me: “Police Department.”

Caller: “My doctor wrote a prescription for me for an X-ray and I need to make an appointment.”

Me: “Okay, and how can the police department help you?”

Caller: “Police department?! I was calling Dr. [Name]’s office! How DARE you answer his phone!”


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Flattery, The Best Medicine

, , , , | Healthy Right | August 26, 2008

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(An elderly lady falls down in her apartment and has a cut on her wrist.)

Coworker: “Ma’am, I am afraid, we have to go to the hospital. You will need stitches for that cut and an X-ray to make sure your wrist isn’t broken.”

Patient: “No, I don’t wanna go. Just give me a shot and it will be okay.”

Coworker: “You mean for the pain?”

Patient: “No, so it will heal!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, I’m afraid we don’t have this kind of medication.”

Patient: “But it worked last time!”

Coworker: “Someone gave you a shot and the wrist healed by itself?”

Patient: “No, my sugar was too high and they gave me a shot and everything was okay!”

Coworker: “I see… Well, I can’t fool you; you know this stuff! Listen, I can give you a shot for the broken wrist, but this counteracts the anti-sugar medicine. So every time your sugar is too high, you can never get a shot again.”

Patient: “Never ever?”

Coworker: “Never ever again…”

Patient: “So why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

Coworker: “Well, not every patient has such an understanding of medicine as you, so I always try to keep it simple.”

Patient: “Okay, then let’s go to the hospital.”

Coworker: “Gladly.”


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Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

, , , , | Right | August 20, 2008

Drunk Customer: “Nice hair, man! ”

Me: “Uh, thanks…”

Drunk Customer: “Grow that s**t out, man! Hair farming is not out of style!”

(Two nights later he returns, much less drunk this time.)

Same customer: “GET A F****ING HAIR CUT!”

(You gotta love working late at a gas station in Methville, USA.)

A Little Bit Too Honest There

, , , , , | Right | August 16, 2008

(I used to work at a sporting goods store. One day a young guy of about 12-14 years of age comes in.)

Customer: “Hi, can you tell me where I can find a jock, like, for playing baseball?”

Me: “Oh, you mean a protective cup? Sure, they’re right over here.”

Customer: “Thanks. Oh, are there sizes?”

Me: “Yeah, they’re–”

Customer: *whispers* “I think I’m a small.”

Me: “They’re according to waistband.”

Customer: “Oh…”

Me: “I’ll be over there if you need anything else.”


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