Turning Alcohol Into Whine

| Wickham, WA, Australia | At The Checkout, Bizarre, Religion

(Due to an unknown genetic disease, I’ve been left with almost no sense of smell. On this particular night, a drunk man comes in and accidentally drops his bottle of alcohol on the floor. Being the only one who can’t smell it, my supervisor sends me to clean the mess when this interaction occurs. Note that I am 19 and have moved out of home by this time.)

Customer: “Oh, darling, it mustn’t be very nice having to clean up after other people. But don’t you be getting high off of those alcohol fumes!”

Me: “Well, I don’t think you can get intoxicated just by inhaling this stuff, but I’m not bothered by the smell much.”

Customer: “I suppose you mustn’t be. A lot of children like you have drunken parents. I’m sorry you have to go home to that.”

Me: *a bit offended* “I actually moved out of home last year. I turn 20 soon and my parents never drank.”

Customer: “Now, you can try to cover for them but it’s okay to tell people about living with parents addicted to alcohol. Did they force you to drink? Is that why you aren’t bothered by the smell?”

Me: *rather irate at this point* “I have a disease. I can’t smell because of that. I’d like to stop talking to you about this now, if you don’t mind.”

(The customer bows and shakes her head slowly, and I can hear her tutting.)

Customer: “So they got to you too, did they? Poor innocent youth…Yes, addiction is a disease, but you can overcome it by listen to the word of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.”

(By this point I’m astonished by her stupidity, and the mess is all clean. After giving her a weird look, I walk away and wonder what the heck just happened!)

| Mi, Usa | Unfiltered

-The customer had 15 items all the same and 15 different receipts for all of them and he wanted to return them so I processed his return-

Me: Looks like I owe ya 25.19.

Customer: No, you owe me 25.20!

Me: oh.. well.. the computer processed how much I owe you to give back and it says 25.19.

Customer. No! I counted out how much you owe me and it is 25.20

Me: sir, I can show you on the screen it rang it up as 25.19.

Customer: Are you saying I don’t know how to count?!

Me: No, of course not. This is just what the computer says.

-I let the computer print out the receipt and I turn over to my coworker with that desperate look of “help me explain this please” but he didn’t understand. I turn back over and notice the receipt is gone while I’m giving him his 25.19-

Customer: This is only 25.19. You owe me 25.20.

Me: Sir, do you have the receipt? Because it says right on there how much I am supposed to give you back..

Customer: Oh. It does say 25.19. Well! It’s still the principle of the thing and I’m not leaving till I get my 25.20

-So I give him a penny because obviously this is going nowhere-

-the customer hands me back the dime and pennies-

Customer: give me a nickel.

Shot Yourself In The Foot

| Brisbane, QLD, Australia | Bizarre, Food & Drink, Pets & Animals

(I’m stocking shelves when a customer approaches.)

Customer: “Excuse me; do you not sell kangaroo meat anymore?”

Me: “It should be over this way; however, it may have moved somewhere else.”

(As I take the customer to where I’m pretty sure the kangaroo meat is kept, he continues talking.)

Customer: “It must be because they’ve stopped the shooting. No one knows how to shoot anymore, so there’s no one to shoot the kangaroos! That’s why you don’t have any! People these days, they don’t know how to shoot!”

(At this point we reach the right section, and sure enough, the fridge is packed with various brands of kangaroo meat.)

Me: “Here it is.”

Customer: “Oh.”

Can’t Predict The Cards

| Melbourne, VIC, Australia | Crazy Requests

(We recently got a whole new computer system installed in our store, complete with new machines for customers’ cards; as it’s now done differently, our manager has asked us to talk all customers through the new system for the first week.)

Me: “Will you be paying by cash or card today?”

Customer: “Card.”

Me: “Just to let you know we have a new system now, and how it works—”

Customer: “I’m not a f****** moron! I know how these things work!”

Me: “If you need any help then let me know and I’ll talk you through it.”

Customer: “Are you f****** deaf?! I know how to do it!”

(I just sit back and watch her for several minutes trying to figure out the new system. The old system let customers type in any cash out they would like before swiping their cards; the new system will not do anything until the card has been swiped.)

Customer: “Your f****** machine is broken!”

Me: “It isn’t broken; it’s a new system. Things are done in a different order now.”

Customer: “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Me: “With respect, ma’am, you told me not to talk you through it.”

Customer: “Well, you should have known that I would be stuck!”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t have psychic abilities that allow me to read minds or predict the future!”

Customer: “Well, you should! They shouldn’t hire you if you can’t make accurate predictions!”

(After all that she paid for her purchases by allowing me to talk her through the new system!)

Customer: “You have lost a very good customer! I’m never coming back here again!”

(The very next day the customer came in again.)

What A Bunch Of Old (Hand)Bags

, | Northampton, England, UK | At The Checkout, Crazy Requests

(I am serving on the till and currently dealing with a woman who has sat her child on the counter as she deals with her payment. Two ladies are behind her waiting.)

Customer In Line: *to me* “Should she really have her daughter sitting up there?”

Me: “Well, we don’t have any policy about this and her child is being very well behaved.”

Customer In Line: “Well, it’s very dirty and food is prepared here so I don’t think the child should be sitting there.”

(At this point I am shocked at the rudeness of the customer, speaking as if the mother was not there. The mother in question has kept quiet the entire time, counting out her change. I have no patience for rude customers so I speak up.)

Me: “Actually, food is not prepared here. Anything that sits on this counter is either wrapped, on a plate, or on a tray, so it does not come in direct contact with the surface. Plus people put their handbags on here all the time as well as their money, two incredibly dirty objects, anyway.”

(Both ladies behind the mother have their handbags on the counter.)

Customer In Line: *ignores me* “I just can’t believe you’d let a child sit up there. It’s so dirty! Food is prepared here!”

(At this point, the mother finally speaks up.)

Mother: “I’ll sit my child wherever I please.”

(She then paid and left with her child. I just wish I could have high-fived her for putting the other customer in her place!)

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