I’m walking past the beauty section at the big-box store where I work when I see either a young woman or a teenage girl walking around, which makes me immediately call for a manager.

Manager: “What’s up?”

Me: “There’s a woman with green hair in beauty who’s wearing an oversize t-shirt and only an oversize t-shirt with it being pulled up to expose her butt cheeks.”

Manager: “How bad is it?”

Me: “I can tell you with 100% certainty that she’s not even wearing a thong.”

Manager: *Deep sigh.* “Okay, I’ll be up.”

I later found out that they did tell her to pull it down, which she freaked out over, saying, “How dare you tell me to cover up? I should be able to wear what I want without judgment,” only to then pull the shirt back up once again, exposing her butt cheeks.

After that, she was told to leave the store, and the poor security guy had to go through camera footage to make sure she hadn’t exposed her coochie at any point, as then we would have to call the police because this was the weekend before school started, meaning kids were everywhere and she might have exposed herself to a child. 

What makes a person think it’s okay to just Winnie the Pooh it in public?!

I’m on month five into my management position at the tree of dollar. This means I’ve got a pretty good handle on the products and where they are. I’m always happy to help customers when they’re looking for something.

Then there was this lady:

Customer: *Lays her things for me to check out.* “So, I have to know if yins* have this thing.”

Me: *Already starting to scan her things.* Sure thing, what is it?

Customer: “So it’s a little plastic rose on a cylinder… my friend saw it on TikTok, and it can vibrate. You have to have it!”

Me: *Stops scanning to stare at her with a heftily arched brow.* “…we do not sell vibrators. We’re a dollar store.”

Customer: “No! I can’t lose this wager! I made a bet with my girlfriend that yins—”

Me: *Shakes head, bagging her stuff now.* “There’s lots of fake stuff online, especially about our products.”

Customer: “D*** it! Now I have to treat her to the Grand Concourse (Upscale Restaurant)! Are you sure?”

Me: *Deadpan.* “Yes.”

She was SO adamant through the rest of the transaction that she had for sure thought that the DOLLAR STORE would sell vibrators!! While she’s at a loss for losing the bet, I’m at a loss as to her critical thinking skills!

*Yins/Yinz regional second-person plural pronoun used in Western Pennsylvania (particularly in Pittsburgh) to mean “you all” or “you guys”

My wife and I are visiting her family for a weekend (her grandma’s eightieth birthday). We drove in from New York.

Brother-In-Law: “How are things over in Sharia town?”

Me: “Huh?”

Brother-In-Law: “Now that you got that terrorist mayor?”

Me: “Our Muslim mayor is doing just fine, thank you.”

Brother-In-Law: “So you’re a communist now?”

Me: “I’m not anything, but the term you’re looking for is democratic socialist.”

Brother-In-Law: “All the same s***! Hey, vote however you want, but do you really want your taxes paying for others?”

Me: “My taxes already pay for your Medicaid, so what’s the difference?”

That wasn’t the right thing to say, as [Brother-In-Law] started shouting, defending his need for Medicaid, and was eventually told to “shut the f*** up” by grandma as her birthday wish.

I frequent a place that specializes in custom salads, to the point where most of the employees know exactly what I want when I walk in the door.

Went to get a salad for myself and my tech yesterday. A new girl I didn’t recognize on the register. Early twenties, maybe? Could have been a little younger, even. I’m a middle-aged Gen-X fart, so I still carry cash on me most of the time. 

My total came to $27.06. I gave her $30 and a dime. $30.10, granted, not everyone can do math in their head, but I figured it wouldn’t be a problem.

It was.

She tried to hand me $2.

Me: “Should be three bucks and four cents back.”

I get the stare like a deer in the headlights.

The manager, an older woman around my age who knows me very well, comes over to help. In short, the girl should have typed the amount of money I gave her in the register; it will tell you how much change to give back. That’s been standard in POS (point of sale) terminals for decades. They even had a calculator sitting there in front of the register; never touched that, either.

So after the manager tells her to put the amount I gave her in the register, she STILL tries to hand me two dollars instead of three.

Me: “Should be three bucks back.”

The manager looked pretty annoyed with her at this point. She told her to give me three bucks and a nickel back. (We’re rounding now with pennies in most places) I still don’t think she grasped the math, but she complied. 

I thanked the manager and left the place, weeping for the future of humanity.

I caught my friend reading something on his phone to kill time when I got dragged away from talking to him for a bit.

Me: “What are you reading?”

Friend: “A book.”

Me: “I figured that; I meant what’s it about?”

Friend: “I doubt you’d find it interesting.”

Me: “You always say that. What are you embarrassed to tell me?”

Friend: “No, just I have odd tastes.”

Me: “So what tasty things have you been reading lately?”

Friend: “Okay, fine, you asked. I’m currently reading a book about a half-dressed man whose best friend is a talking cat and also a princess who is riding the world’s worst subway where the train occasionally eats its passengers. My current audiobook is about a year in the life of a man who’s been known to ride necromantic T-rexes, save the day via ordering donuts, and once almost died in childbirth. My current webcomics include one where everyone’s queer, one’s part squirrel, and everyone keeps transforming and changing sexes. One about a baby who’s a tyrant and trying to get herself deposed as queen, and of course D&D stick figures trying to save the world from an evil snarl of threads. Clearly those all sound like stories you would love to hear more about, right?”

Me: “Part of me wants to ask lots of follow-up questions about all that, and part of me is afraid to know any more.”

Friend: “I get that response from most people who meet me.”