There’s No Food Stamps For A Date

, , , , , | Right | February 14, 2018

(I have just finished bagging a fairly large load of groceries that were paid for with food stamps. As soon as this girl leaves the building, the next woman in line immediately complains to the cashier.)

Customer: “Lazy trash!”

Cashier: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You know. That dumb b**** that was in front of me, buying things with those bull-s*** food stamps. I can’t stand lazy trash like that.”

Cashier: “I see…”

Customer: “I’ll have you know that I work hard for my money. I don’t collect checks sitting on my lazy a** all day, like she does. Probably wasted all of her normal money on drugs, or some s*** like that. Lazy trash!”

(As she continues checking out, she starts complaining about various other things, like the prices of certain items, or whether or not we bagged something correctly, or even the “poor customer service” she received the last time she shopped here. The poor cashier is just standing there, taking her abuse without even flinching. Meanwhile, I’m busy biting my tongue, because I don’t want to say anything that would cost me my job. At last, I finish bagging her groceries, she pays, and we hope that was the end of it.)

Cashier: “I hope you have a happy Valentine’s Day.”

Customer: “How dare you?”

Cashier: “…what?”

Customer: “I’ll have you know that saying that sort of thing is very offensive to those of us that don’t have anyone to be with!”

Cashier: “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

Customer: *cutting her off* “—well, maybe you should just keep your d*** mouth shut and do your job!”

(As she storms off, our supervisor, who has heard everything, walks over to us.)

Supervisor: “What the h*** was her problem?”

Me: *sarcastically* “I don’t know, but I can’t believe a woman like that would be single on Valentine’s Day.”


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Something In The Weather

, , , | Right | September 6, 2017

(One of my many responsibilities is collecting shopping carts from the deposit spaces in the parking lot and returning them to their designated area. One snowy day, a pickup truck parks right next to the deposit space I’m occupying. A middle-aged man steps out of the truck and immediately proceeds to flirt with me. Note that despite my long hair and slender build, I am a very heterosexual male.)

Caller: “Now, what kind of jack-a** would make a pretty little lady like you work in this weather?”

Me: *in the deepest voice I can muster* “Guess again, buddy.”

(He stared  at me for a minute in complete silence, and then slowly got back into his truck, and drove off without another word. He never even entered the store.)