Littered With Hints About His Litter

, , , , , | Right | February 17, 2018

(I am working alone and a family with small children walks in. The children start running around, messing with the displays and trying to go behind the counter, while both parents ignore them and order. I am trying to both control the children and take the order at the same time. I am very much an animal person, but not so much a children person.)

Father: “Children are amazing, but they do take a lot of patience, huh?”

Me: *frustrated but still smiling* “I am actually not planning on have children. My dog is my baby!”

Father: “Yes, but you have to be patient with children.”

Me: “And that’s why I love my dog!”

(He was fuming, but his wife got the hint and quickly gained control of their three young kids. Thank you, kind woman!)

Sick Of Your Compliments

, , , , , | Romantic | February 17, 2018

(My husband has been sick with a fever for a few days, and I have spent the weekend taking care of him. On the second morning, I feel his forehead.)

Me: *encouragingly* “You’re not as hot as you were yesterday!”

Husband: “Give me a break! Lots of people aren’t as attractive when they’re sick.”

(Nothing wrong with his sense of humor!)

The Fishy Customers Are The Most Interesting

, , , , | Right | February 17, 2018

(I’m finishing ringing up a customer and what appears to be his grandson.)

Me: *giving them their order* “Enjoy your movie!”

Customer: “Want to see something cool?”

Me: *curious* “Um… Okay.”

Customer: *holds up a picture on his cell phone of himself holding what looks like a very large fish* “I caught that myself, back in the creek over there!”

Me: *not knowing what to say* “Oh. Nice!”

Customer: “He took the picture!” *gesturing to his grandson*

Me: “Good job!”

(They took their order and left. I’m still slightly confused as to why he would want to show me that. It made for an interesting story, though!)

That Is “Pretty” Awesome, Part 2

, , , , , | Right | February 16, 2018

(While working a temporary job at a thrift store, I am usually working in the back room, sorting donations. Every so often, I’ll be called out to clean up the floor, as I am one of the few full-time workers. I am sorting the women’s plus-size section.)

Customer: “Oh, hey, could you hand me that black skirt there, right next to the jeans?”

(I oblige and hand her the hanger.)

Customer: *looks at the size tag* “Oh, no, this is too big for me. But it looks like it would fit you.”

(I am a large guy, who sometimes indulges in cross-dressing.)

Me: “Well, thank you, ma’am. Are you sure it’s my color, though?”

(I keep sorting the rack as we talk.)

Customer: *sensing that I’m not joking* “Well, of course. I bet it’d look good with that black and white top in the next row.”

Me: “That sounds like a good mix. There’s just one problem: employees aren’t allowed to purchase items. I’m not sure why.”

Customer: “Well, maybe you can find something similar at another store.”

(The conversation goes on for a little while and when I finish, I see an eight-year-old girl by the books, trying to reach up for a toy on the shelf. As I hand it to her, she asks me this:)

Little Girl: “Mister, do you dress up like a girl?”

Me: “Yes, I do, but not when I’m at work.”

Little Girl: “I bet you’re really pretty.”

(This immediately brightens my mood until her mother steps in.)

Mother: “No, he isn’t. Boys aren’t meant to be pretty. Only girls are.”

(The little girl looks at her mother, back to me, and to the customer I was helping.)

Little Girl: “Mommy’s lying. You would be very pretty! Like a… giant princess!”

Customer & Me: *laughing*

Me: “Thanks, little girl! I’m going to put that on my business card!”

Little Girl: “Okay! Bye-bye, Princess!”

Related:
That Is ‘Pretty’ Awesome

Seriously Off Her Meds

, , , , | Healthy | February 14, 2018

(I’m a pharmacist at a small, but very busy, chain store. I am working the register along with one of the technicians, due to us being understaffed.)

Me: “Hi! How are you doing today, ma’am?”

Customer: “Israel!”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “Israel!”

(At the pharmacy register, in order to pick up a prescription, we must be provided with the first and last name, along with the date of birth.)

Me: “Is that your name, ma’am?”

Customer: “Israel!”

Me: *getting frustrated since there is a line behind her going up two aisles* “May I please have your name?”

Customer: “Israel! My name is Israel!”

Me: “Okay, thank you. May I please have your last name?”

Customer: “Israel!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I misunderstood. I thought your first name was Israel. Could I please have your first name, then?”

Customer: “Israel! My name is Israel! What do you not understand? This is ridiculous! I demand to speak to the pharmacist!”

Me: *trying not to scream* “I’m very sorry, ma’am. I am the pharmacist. I just need your first and last name in order to view your profile. Could you please give me your first name followed by your last?”

Customer: *she is now screaming at this point* “This is unbelievable!”

(She looks at the people in line behind her for support. They all give me a sympathetic look, instead.)

Customer: “From now on, I’m taking my business to [Other Retail Chain Pharmacy]!”

Me: “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am. Could I please have your first and last name, in order to speed up the transaction? We are quite busy today.”

Customer: “Israel! My name is Israel! Israel [Last Name].”

(Now that I finally have her first and last name in the system, I am prompted with the screen that asks for the date of birth.)

Me: “Thank you, ma’am. And could I have your date of birth, please?”

Customer: “What kind of pharmacy is this?! What will you want next? My social security number?!”

Me: “That won’t be necessary, ma’am.”

(By this time, the technician at the register next to me has gone through about three patients, while I am still with this lady.)

Customer: “My birthday is [date]!”

Me: “All right, thank you. It looks like we have three prescriptions ready for you. Let me go get those for you.” *I fetch the prescriptions and finish the transaction fairly normally* “All right, ma’am. Before you leave, do you have any questions about the medications?”

Customer: “Yes. I would like to speak to the pharmacist!”

Me: “I am the pharmacist, ma’am.”

Customer: “No, you’re not!”

Me: “I can assure you that I am, in fact, the pharmacist, ma’am.”

Customer: *all disgruntled* “Well… Well… I want to speak to the pharmacist who was here yesterday! Where is he?!”

Me: “That was our other pharmacist.”

Customer: “Well, I demand to speak to him! Go fetch him!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. He isn’t here today.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I have nothing but trouble at this store!”

Me: “I’m sorry that you feel that way, ma’am. I can answer any questions that you have about the medication, though.”

Customer: “No! I’ll just die! No one can tell me how to take this medication! You don’t even have a pharmacist here! I’m going to die because of your incompetence!”

Me: “Ma’am, as I’ve said, I am the pharmacist, and I would be more than happy to walk you through the proper way to take your medications. If you would like, you can come back tomorrow, too, and the other pharmacist will be here.”

Customer: “Fine! Show me, since you think I’m too stupid to take my own medications!”

Me: “I never said you were too stupid, ma’am.”

Customer: “Yes, you did! But whatever. Show me!”

(I instructed the lady on how to take her medications, and she finally walked away. Shortly after, the store manager came down to the pharmacy asking what happened. I asked what he was referring to and he stated that a lady was complaining that I “verbally and mentally abused her.”)

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