Caller: “May I speak to Joe Blow?”
Me: “Joe Blow is a pseudonym that my boss uses to confuse telemarketers.”
Caller: “Well, I’m calling to talk to Mr. Blow about accounting services.”
Me: “…and clearly it’s working.”
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(I’m Asian, but I have blonde hair. I’m also wearing red lipstick.)
Employee: “The Taylor Swift CDs are over there.”
Me: “I’m not looking for Taylor Swift CDs. What makes you think so?”
Employee: “Well… you kind of look like her, for starters.”
(I’m shopping at a music store. I pass by a scary-looking guy in all black, with his hair dyed in dark blue spikes, covered with chains, piercings and tattoos. He seems to be buying an album from a local death metal group, whose cover features sexually explicit and anti-religious artwork. The scary guy takes the CD up to the counter.)
Scary Guy: “I want to get this, and a soda.”
Salesperson: “Coming right up.”
(The salesperson gets a soda from the small refrigerator behind the counter, and starts to ring the scary guy’s purchase up.)
Salesperson: “So, uh…[death metal band], huh?”
Scary Guy: “It’s for my girlfriend. She digs that s***.”
Salesperson: “This is for a girl?!”
Scary Guy: “Yeah, so?”
Salesperson: “Girls don’t listen to music like this!”
Scary Guy: “Uh, yeah she does. Just bag the disc, man.”
Salesperson: “I can’t let you give this to a girl! She’s probably just pretending to like it because you do!”
Scary Guy: “Don’t give me any crap. Just ring up the d*** CD.”
Salesperson: “Girls don’t like this music!”
Scary Guy: “All right, you and me are gonna have a problem, right—”
(Suddenly, a girl comes around the corner. She looks a lot like the scary guy; she is also wearing all black clothes, lots of piercings and tattoos, spiky pink hair and a choker that says ‘F*** you’.)
Scary Girl: “What’s going on here, babe?”
Scary Guy: “Pencil-d*** here won’t ring up your birthday present, angel.”
(The scary girl suddenly turns on the salesperson.)
Scary Girl: “What f****** business is it of yours what my babe gets me, pencil-d***?”
Salesperson: “Uh…”
(The scary girl leans over the counter, right in the salesperson’s face.)
Scary Girl: “I think you had better give us what we want, pencil-d***.”
(The salesperson goes completely white, and finishes the transaction at lightning speed.)
Scary Guy: “Thanks for jack-s***, pencil-d***.”
(The scary guy gives the CD to his girlfriend.)
Scary Guy: “Here you go, angel.”
Scary Girl: “[Death metal band]? Awwww, babe! You’re the darkest!”
(They walk out of the store kissing. I approach the counter with my own purchase.)
Me: “Just this for me, pencil-d***.”
(I’m a 14-year-old girl. I’ve just selected three Led Zeppelin CDs, and head to the counter to make my purchase. The cashier is a middle-aged man.)
Cashier: “Are these for your dad?”
Me: “Actually, no, they’re for me.”
Cashier: “Uh, the One Direction CDs are over there.” *points*
Me: “Yeah, well, I hate One Direction. I much prefer Led Zeppelin.”
Cashier: “But girls your age are supposed to like One Direction!”
Me: “Yeah, well, I don’t! I like Led Zeppelin.”
Cashier: “It’s obvious that you have some sort of mental problem. It’s not normal for girls your age to like classic rock.”
(The manager has now approached the counter.)
Manager: *to cashier* “You! To my office now!” *to me* “I’m so sorry about that. He shouldn’t be talking to you that way. Personally, it’s great to see kids your age that appreciate great music.”
(He gave me 50% off for my troubles.)
(A very common occurrence at music/guitar stores, is people buying guitar strings for prison-style tattoo guns. While not illegal, it is stupid, and can be dangerous.)
Customer: “Hey man, I need an F string.”
Me: “E,A,D,G,B,E… there isn’t such a thing as an F string.”
Customer: “Oh, I need… uhm… the smallest one.”
Me: “Is it for tattooing?”
Customer: “Yeah.”
Me: “Man, it’s not illegal, but steel strings can contain residual nickel content from manufacturing. If the person you use it on is allergic to nickel—which is common—they will have a horrible reaction. Go to a smoke shop; they have needles there.”
(The customer leaves for 20 minutes, and then comes back in.)
Customer: “I need that string.”
(I direct him to the counter where strings are sold. My coworker rings him up. He leaves again without the string. I speak to my coworker.)
Me: “What happened?”
Coworker: “The card the customer presented for the $0.85 transaction was declined.”
(A few minutes pass. An angry young woman storms in.)
Woman: “I demand to see the manager! My boyfriend used my state benefits card to try and buy a guitar string!”
(I can guess what has happened. The state had to freeze her benefits card, since it was used to try and buy something other than food.)
Woman: “You froze my card; how the f*** am I supposed to buy milk for my d*** baby?”
Manager: “Ma’am, we don’t have the authority to freeze your card.”
Woman: “My boyfriend used it here, and you declined him! Now my f****** card won’t work at all!”
Manager: “Again, we can’t freeze your card. The state probably flagged it for misuse.”
Woman: “I can’t even buy f****** gas to get home, because I need f****** milk for my d*** baby! How am I going to f****** get home?”
Manager: “That’s not our responsibility, and I have to ask you to stop cursing in front of my other customers.”
(The woman immediately turns demure.)
Woman: “I’m sorry; I just can’t afford gas and milk.”
Manager: “But the guitar string was a necessity?”
Woman: “No, I guess not.”
(She leaves. I almost wanted to feel sorry for her, but it was impossible, given her terrible attitude and misuse of the system.)
