Date Updated

| Reading, England, UK | Right | November 24, 2014

(I get home from work to find my wife (who gets home before me) has unpacked the shopping which has been delivered.)

Me: “What do you want for tea?”

Wife: “We were going to have macaroni but we’ll have to have the chicken biryani instead because it goes out of date today. There were six things which go out today, which is outrageous.”

Me: “I thought they were supposed to inform you when they gave you things with today’s use-by date?”

Wife: “So did I. So I rang them up to complain. Such a nice lady, she apologised and gave us a refund on each of these articles.”

Me: “Nice of her.” *goes to fridge* “What, this chicken Biryani? Doesn’t go out of date until Saturday.”

(Today is Thursday.)

Wife: “What! But it distinctly says: use by the 12th.”

Me: “Yes, and today’s the 10th.”

Wife: “Oops.”

(She rang the supermarket back and was really apologetic about it. The woman at the other end was so happy to receive an apologetic phone call she let us keep the refund.)

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Way Past Time Magazine

| Monroe, CT, USA | Right | November 21, 2014

(It’s 11:20 pm and we close at 11 pm. Cashiers are counting out their tills, stockers are unloading boxes in the aisles, and the cleaning crew is scrubbing the place down. I’m counting lotto tickets behind the customer service desk when one of the cleaning crew comes over.)

Janitor: “Hey, is [Manager] around?”

Me: “No, he’s on the phone with corporate for a while. What’s up?”

Janitor: “You’d better come with me, then.”

(I follow him to the back of the store where the water fountains and bathrooms are, and I hear someone hollering from the men’s room.)

Me: *knocking on the door* “Um, hello, is there someone in there?”

Customer: “Yes! I’ve been sitting here calling for help for almost a half hour!”

Me: “Oh, my god, sir. I’m so sorry. The store closed and no one was around this area. Do you need medical attention?”

Customer: “No, of course not.”

Me: “Oh, uh, did you run out of toilet paper?”

Customer: “No, there’s plenty here.”

Me: “Okay… Then, what did you need help with?”

Customer: “I finished reading this Time magazine I picked up from the book section. Can you bring me the latest issue of Car & Driver?”

(We had to go get the manager, who threatened to charge him with trespassing if he didn’t finish his “business” and get out of the store. The man flushed, didn’t wash his hands, and stormed out the front door.)

Me: “He left the Time magazine in there. You don’t want me to put it back, do you?”

Manager: “H***, no. BURN IT.”

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Give Her Family Credit

| Canberra, ACT, Australia | Right | November 20, 2014

(Our system uses a PLU (Product Listed Under) list, which consists of numbers from 1-200, which are used for produce, milk, flowers, and meat coming through the registers. It has been a long busy day and I was getting a bit bored with repeating the same spiel over and over, so I decided to mix it up a little bit.)

Me: “Your total comes to $94.55. Would you like to pay by cash, card, or firstborn child today?”

Customer: “Firstborn child? How much is she worth?”

Me: *turns to customer’s daughter* “How old are you this year?”

Customer’s Daughter: “I’m five and two thirds!”

(I put the number five into the system, which corresponds with a 750 gram bag of tomatoes, worth $3.50.)

Me: *to the customer* “She’s worth $3.50.”

Customer: “D***, not enough. It’ll have to be card.”

(The transaction finishes and she starts to head off.)

Customer: “Can I pay with my husband next time?”

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The Employee And The Hummus Have A Code

| ACT, Australia | Working | November 19, 2014

(My husband and I are shopping for groceries and find my preferred hummus is on sale, with a weird really long barcode on it. I wonder if it will cause problems at the checkout, but grab two anyway. When we are done shopping we head to the self-serve checkouts. Note there is one staff member for nine of these checkouts.)

Me: *gets up to hummus and it won’t scan* “D***, it doesn’t like my hummus!”

(I try scanning it a few more times and then give up. I look around for the staff member. Just then the staff member walks by me and tells her nearest colleague that she is ducking out. My hand is up to signal her but I drop it, presuming she hasn’t seen me. On her way out she looks back and makes eye contact with me before hurrying away.)

Me: *deflated* “Well, what the h*** do I do now?”

(The machine, which had been mostly silent, suddenly speaks up…)

Machine: “Type in the code, or look up item.”

(My husband and I look at each other before bursting out laughing. I type in the massive code, and it works. I then have to repeat this for the other hummus. Luckily the sale price is applied properly and I don’t have to retype it. We finish up, pay and collect our groceries. As we are walking out, the staff member comes back into the store, and quickly averts her eyes.)

Me: “Did she somehow intuitively know my hummus was a problem and avoided us?”

Husband: *shrug* “It doesn’t matter; the machine knew what was going on.”

Mew Mew Pew Pew

| AR, USA | Romantic | November 14, 2014

(I’m on the phone with my wife:)

Wife: “Your cat… YOUR CAT has the stinkiest farts!”

Me: “I don’t have any cats. They’re your cats.”

(We play this game all the time, whenever the cats are naughty.)

Wife: “As stinky as her farts are, I’m pretty sure this has to be your cat.”

Me: “…well played.”

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