Hard Liquor Has A Hard Bedtime

, , , , , | Right | November 6, 2018

(In our state, it is illegal to sell alcohol past 2:00 am. It is 1:59 am, the point at which we tend to refuse the purchase of alcohol so that we don’t accidentally break the law, through whatever plethora of delays can happen at the register. If we mess up, there’s a fine to both the store and the employees involved. Also, our hard liquor, vodka, rum, and whatnot is locked up so that an employee has to get a bottle out if you want anything.)

Announcement: “Guest assistance at the liquor cabinet.”

Me: *walks over to the register to grab the liquor key, while checking the time* “It’s 1:59; I’m going to let them know we can’t sell.”

Cashier: “I told them no alcohol. So, yeah.”

Me: *walks over to the aisle where two people are waiting* “I’m sorry, but we can’t sell alcohol at this time. It’s 1:59 am and it’s illegal to sell past 2:00 am.”

(It’s a guy and a girl, but the guy does all the talking and IMMEDIATELY gets whiny.)

Customer: “What? But we just ran all the way here! Isn’t there anything you can do?”

Me: “No. I’m sorry, but we can’t sell any alcohol at this time.”

Customer: “We’ll be in and out before you even know it!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we can’t take that risk. The cashier already told you no alcohol, too.”

Customer: “Please? What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

Me: *a little curtly, but I’m serious when I say he’s whiny* “I wouldn’t be asking the person in front of me to lose their job over a drink.”

Customer: “You wouldn’t lose your job over this!”

Me: “I’d have to pay a $300 fine and get a significant write-up, though. I’m sorry, but we cannot sell to you.” *turns to walk away*

Customer: “So, you can’t do anything? We can’t get anything?”

Me: “Nothing alcoholic!”

Customer: “B****!”

(The two left without getting anything. Sadly, he’s not the first to try this, but certainly the most whiny.)

This Story’s Title Is Titled

, , , , , | Working | October 23, 2018

(I am at the Department of Licensing, transferring the titles to a pickup, a trailer, a four-wheeler, and snowmobiles to my name after the passing of my grandfather. I have the “Inheritance” form filled out and a copy of the death certificate laid out on the counter.)

Worker: “Hello. What can I help you with today?”

Me: “I am here to transfer these titles after the passing of my grandfather.”

Worker: *looks at how many titles I have* “Well! Aren’t you lucky?!”

(I let her have it, instead of doing the whole, “No, I’d rather have more time with my granddad instead of his truck.”)

This Museum Rocks!

, , , , , , | Right | October 22, 2018

(I’m the idiot in this story. My husband and I are at a museum featuring an oceanic exhibit. In one hall there is a large touch tank. Being the wuss I am, I am very nervous to touch anything, but my husband convinces me to try. I pick a smooth-looking creature close to the edge of the tank, and carefully stroke it with one finger. The girl supervising the tank smiles at me.)

Worker: “Doesn’t that one feel like a rock?”

Me: *with excitement and wonder* “Yeah! It really does!”

Worker: “That’s because it is.”

Must Have Had A Dollar Education

, , , , , | Right | October 21, 2018

(I’m a cashier, ringing out a customer. She’s buying five cases of soda. She had other items before the sodas, so math would be needed to check how much the sodas were together.)

Customer: “Those sodas were on sale, right? Five for five dollars?”

Me: “Yep! The last one rang up for free.”

Customer: “No, I should be getting them for one dollar each.”

Me: “You are, see? These four are $1.25 each and the last is free. So it still adds up to five for five.”

Customer: “I’m not getting one free. I’m getting them for one dollar each.”

Me: “It’s still five for five. Even though the register shows it weird, it still adds up. Don’t worry.”

(She was still insisting it was one dollar each and that she was not getting one free as she ran her card, then left.)

Make Sure No Tomatoes Are Squished, Or You Answer To Big Boss Sis

, , , , , | Right | October 12, 2018

(A guest walks up to my lane with nothing but a produce bag filled as full as possible with tomatoes. My store is strange in that we sell produce by quantity, not weight.)

Me: “Hello! Do you happen to know how many tomatoes you have here?”

Customer: *shrugs* “Don’t speak good English.”

Me: “All right. One moment.”

(As I begin counting the tomatoes, the customer speaks to me in a combination of Russian and broken English. I can only make out one phrase repeated multiple times.)

Customer: “Sister big boss.”

Me: “So, twenty-one tomatoes. Your total is [price].”

(I soon found out he was a regular, always getting a bag filled to the brim with produce — usually tomatoes, but occasionally bananas — and always talking about his big boss sister.)

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