It’s Not The Drinking That Will Kill You

, , , , , | Related | January 30, 2019

(It is the early nineties when landlines in phone books are still a thing. A young man approaches my register with several cases of beer. I ask for his ID. He opens his wallet and I see that he has more than one ID. He hands me the driver’s license that says that he is 17.)

Me: “Sorry, sweetie, you have about four years before I can sell you this.”

Kid: “Oh, my bad. I gave you the wrong one.”

(He hands me a really bad fake ID that says he’s 22, but he forgets to take his real one back. I take note of his last name and address. After congratulating him on a nice try, I refuse the sale and he goes on his way. I look him up in the phone book and call his mother. I tell her that her son was attempting to buy alcohol with a fake ID. She assures me it will be dealt with. Fast forward thirty minutes: my little con artist’s dad is dragging him into the building by his ear.)

Dad: “Show me what you were trying to buy. And don’t lie, because I’m going to ask the cashier. And you’re going to get a beating for every can you tried to buy.”

(I had never felt so horrible for tattling in my whole life. I lied to the dad and said it was only a single 40-oz. This young man needed to be taught a lesson about underage drinking, but I was afraid he wouldn’t make it out alive if I told the truth.)

Sorry Not Sorry

, , , , | Right | January 30, 2019

(A customer is upset because we are out of a particular item. I check in the back — I know we are out but I do it for show — and tell the customer we are out of that item. He gets upset and starts making a scene.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t have [item] right now.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “It’s most likely going to come in on the truck tomorrow afternoon.”

Customer: “You don’t have any?”

Me: “No, sorry.”

Customer: “Hmph. I don’t think you mean that.”

Me: “Huh?”

Customer: “You say you’re sorry, but I don’t think you really mean it. You need to mean it when you say sorry to a customer.”

Me: *thinking* “Well, I mean it even less now.” *speaking* “Sorry?”

Customer: “Ugh.” *storms off*

It Might Be Tough Getting The Receipt

, , , , , , | Related Right | January 29, 2019

(I’m helping a mom load groceries into her car. She has a baby and a boy about three or four years old. The mom and I are making small talk when the boy speaks up.)

Boy: “Hi!”

Me: “Hello.”

Boy: “Can we return the baby?”

Me: “What?”

Mom: “I didn’t buy the baby from the store.”

Boy: “Yes, you did; I know you did! Can we return him? All he does is fuss.”

Mom: “But I didn’t buy the baby from the store.”

Boy: “Yes, you did!”

Me: “Sorry, all sales are final. No returns or exchanges on babies.”

Boy: “Aww.”

(I hope the mom was able to get through to her kid that babies do not come from grocery stores.)

Not Quite Feline This Game

, , , , , , | Friendly | January 29, 2019

When I moved in with my roommate, he brought with him his adorable, tiny cat. My cats don’t love her, but I do. She is a bundle of inexhaustible energy and is very entertaining. Like all cats, though, she came with some bizarre quirks.

One night not long after moving in together, my roommate and I were watching a movie through his Xbox when suddenly the movie disappeared with a cheerful little three-tone beep. The console had been turned off, and sitting atop the Xbox was my roommate’s cat. She had hit the sensitive power button on the side of the box with a paw. My roommate scolded her and got up to shoo her away and turn it back on. I thought this was hilarious — I mean, how would she even know to do this? — but he was unsurprised.

I learned then that this was far from accidental on the cat’s part. He told me that she had learned a while ago how to turn the Xbox on and off, and did it on purpose — not to hear it beep, or from the simple joy of pressing a button, not even for the entertainment value of watching her human get upset.

No, instead she had somehow become obsessed with the user icon that briefly appears on screen when the Xbox signs you in. She waits eagerly for it, and as soon as it chimes and appears, she leaps at it and repeatedly smacks it ferociously. She knows that it appears when the box is turned on, so she will intentionally turn it off and then on again so that the sign-in icon will appear.

My roommate had learned to barricade the Xbox in his previous apartment, and now we had to do the same, making sure she couldn’t get to it, because she would do this nonstop if she could. Sometimes she manages to squeeze a paw past the barricade and hit it anyway. I still find it funny, but she has interrupted several movies, shows, and games. When he’s feeling generous, though, my roommate will turn the console on just for her, and wait while she smacks it, and then scoop her up and praise her. “You did it! You’re a fierce killer! You’ve saved us all!”

We still can’t decide if she’s smart or dumb, but she knows what she wants! And she’s definitely got my roommate wrapped around her littlest toe.

This Offer Has Reached Its Tea Total

, , , , , , | Working | January 29, 2019

(I go to a popular chicken restaurant. This chain of restaurants has a card that gets you a free item every month. This particular month is labeled as a “mystery item,” while other months can have the free item printed on the card. Also, new cashiers have, “in training,” written under their names on their badges, and my cashier does not have this on her name tag.)

Me: “Hi. Do you know what the mystery offer is?”

Cashier: “It’s a free [Brand] fountain drink or bottled water, and a free waffle fry. Any size.”

(I’m not a fan of soda, but past experience tells me that tea is included with this deal.)

Me: “Great. I’ll have a large sweet tea and large fry.”

Cashier: “Tea isn’t included. It’s only the fountain drinks.”

Me: “What? When did that happen?”

Cashier: “It says right here, ‘fountain drinks.’ Tea is not a fountain drink.”

Me: “But I’ve gotten tea before when the offer was used in the past.”

Cashier: “Do you mean you’ve already used this month’s free offer? You can only do that once.”

Me: “No—” *glances at card* “—but in March, it had the same offer, and I got tea then.”

Cashier: “I don’t know what to tell you, because tea is not included.”

Me: *internally* “Don’t make me say the words. Don’t make me ask for a manager.” *out loud* “It should work.”

Cashier: *scoffs* “I’ll try it, but it’s not going to work.” *scans my card* “Oh, the tea came off. Huh. Would you like anything else?”

Me: “A sandwich with no pickle.”

(She didn’t even apologize for wasting my time over something that shouldn’t have even been an issue.)

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