An older lady is making a purchase with me.

Old Lady: “It’s been a while since I’ve been shopping on my own! I usually come with my daughter, so it’s exciting to get out and stretch my legs on my own.”

Me: “That’s good! I love a bit of personal retail therapy now and again.”

A younger guy in line behind her rolls his eyes and loudly proclaims:

Customer: “Let’s move it along, ladies! Not all of us have all day to chat!”

Old Lady: “I was just saying hello! No need to be rude.”

Customer: “Just buy what you need and go!”

The old lady doesn’t seem too bothered, but I am upset for her that her first solo shopping experience in a while is being ruined by this total tosser.

Old Lady: *With a glint in her eye* “Do you still accept cheques?”

Me: *Also smiling* “We do!”

She starts to get out her chequebook, and the other customer rolls his eyes again.

Customer: “F*** this!”

He walks to the other side of the floor and makes his purchase there. He still feels the need to come back and have a go at us again.

Customer: “You tried to delay me on purpose!”

Old Lady: “I might have.”

Customer: “You failed!”

Old Lady: “So did your daddy’s condom!”

He had nothing to say to that, and I had to hold back my laughter!

Shockingly, the old lady wasn’t Scottish!

Related:
Are We Sure This Story Isn’t From Scotland?
Never Pick A Fight With An Old Scottish Woman, Part 3
Never Pick A Fight With An Old Scottish Woman, Part 2
Never Pick A Fight With An Old Scottish Woman
Tell Me You’re In Scotland Without Telling Me You’re In Scotland

I admit that I was kind of an a**hole in this story, but I don’t think it was completely unjustified. I was doing some shopping in a state that allows you to buy alcohol in grocery stores. This is not something I can do in my home state. As I approached the registers, I saw signs at the self-checkouts that said you could not buy alcohol or tobacco at the self-checkouts. That made sense, so I went further to find a manned register.

An employee in a blue vest and name tag stepped into my path.

Employee: “You can’t buy alcohol at self-checkout. You have to go to a regular register.”

Me: *With a polite smile* “I just saw the sign. I’m—”

Employee: “You have to go to a regular register.”

Me: “Yes… thank you.”

Employee: “You can’t—”

Me: “I got it, thank you.”

I pushed the cart past him before he could repeat himself again. I only got a few feet before I ran into another problem: there was only ONE manned register open, and the line was so long that it went through the main aisle and into the apparel section. I looked back at the employee.

At first, I thought he was working on a handheld device, then I saw that what he was holding had a colorful case and he was typing away.

Me: “Is it possible to get another cashier?”

Employee: *Rolls his eyes* “We’re short-staffed. If you want your alcohol, you’ll just have to wait your turn.” *Fake smile*

Me: “Oh. Okay.”

I took the alcohol out of my cart and put it on a nearby shelf. 

Employee: “Hey! You can put that back where you got it, you know.”

Me: “You said if I want it, I have to wait. I don’t want it bad enough to wait in a line ten people long.” *Shrugs* “Now I can go through self-checkout.”

I went to the self-checkout and was out of the store in under ten minutes. I passed the manned register and saw that every cart had alcohol and almost every cart was full.

After a new product release, our tech support team has created a dedicated department for that specific product.

Caller: “Help! I have [specific product technical issue]!”

Me: “I’m afraid that I am unable to help with that specific issue, but we have a department dedicated to that, so if you’ll allow me to transfer you to—”

Caller: “I was already transferred to you! You’re the one who’s supposed to help me! I want help now!“

Me: “Sir, I—”

Caller: “No! You listen! I am having [technical issue], and…”

I did try to interject about forty-five seconds in and explain that this belonged to another dedicated department. When I tried to pop my two bits in, he started talking MORE loudly over me rather than breaking to let me get in.

I finished a full game of solitaire before he started winding down. He still got transferred.

I use a particularly well-known dating app that allows you to swipe left or right on would-be suitors. I matched with a girl, and my first impression was that she was very attractive, had a nice complexion, and took care of herself, and based on her photos, she enjoyed the great outdoors. Being an outdoorsy guy myself, she ticked a lot of my boxes. We exchanged numbers and went out on our first date.

That’s when her red flags really began showing.

Throughout the entire date at a restaurant I chose, she was mainly on her phone, texting away. In between that, she asked me a lot of personal questions such as my wealth, how much money I made, etc. Out of politeness, I decided not to cut the date short because I also wanted to avoid any potential drama, even though my date was being incredibly rude and obnoxious with her glaringly evident materialistic lifestyle. After we concluded the date, I went home and deleted her number ASAP.

Months went by without any contact whatsoever. I had pretty much forgotten about her up until I got a text from a number that wasn’t saved in my phone.

Date: “I wanted you to know that I am seeing someone new now.”

Me: “I’m sorry, who is this?”

Date: “Wow. It’s [Date]. Don’t pretend like you haven’t been thinking about me.”

Me: “Not really. I mean, why do you think I haven’t texted you since?”

Date: “It’s okay to be mad. Really. But I just want you to know that you can still win me back by taking me here.”

She then sent me a link to a private island vacation in the Caribbean. The price? At least $30,000 per person. I was speechless for a moment.

Me: “Hahaha, tell me this is a joke, please. You seriously think I’m that desperate?”

Date: “If you’re poor, babe, just say so!”

Me: “It’s not a matter of whether I’m poor or not. I just don’t believe that you are worth spending that much money on.”

Date: “Typical broke-a** boy talk.”

For the record, I would not describe myself as poor. I am self-employed and make a very decent income.

Me: “Huh, let’s see for a second. I took you out to [Expensive Restaurant], drove you in my [Expensive Car] because you didn’t want to book a [Rideshare] from your apartment, and paid for everything on the bill that you wanted, which also happened to be the most or nearly the most expensive thing on the menu. Who sounds more poor, love?”

She didn’t respond after that. I sincerely hope that whoever she’s “seeing” now is either incredibly desperate or just as shallow as her. The whole experience put me off dating for such a long time.

I work at a grocery store and sometimes find these odd things out of place. The worst one was when someone put a bottle of root beer in our ice cream freezer. A glass bottle. Of course, it broke.

Have you ever tried to pick shards of glass out of frozen root beer? The process took long enough that by the end, the root beer had turned to slush, making the extraction process easier.

Fortunately, no ice cream was lost.