The Answer To Their Own Question

(Today all my customers have been placing the exact same order, so I decide to have fun with the next one who comes in.)

Me: “Hello. Can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi! Can I have—”

Me: “A pound of [Brand] oven roasted turkey? Sliced thin?”

Customer: “Um, yes…”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Coming right up.”

(I slice the turkey for her and hand it to her.)

Me: “Would you like anything else today?”

Customer: “Can I also have—”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. One pound of [Brand] white American cheese, coming up.”

(Her eyes go wide but she doesn’t say anything. I look through the cold case but don’t find an open package of the cheese.)

Me: “Oh, looks like I need to open a new package. One moment, please.”

(I step out from behind the counter and open up the door on the front of the case to get a new package of cheese.)

Customer: “Wow! I didn’t know—”

Me: “That’s okay. Most people don’t know the doors open from the front.”

(Her eyes get even wider. I try not to snicker as I slice her cheese.)

Me: “Aaaaand there you go. Will that be all for you, ma’am?”

Customer: “What number am I—”

Me: “42.”

(She snatches the cheese and runs out the front door at full speed.)

Coworker: “How did you know what number she was thinking?”

Me: “Douglas Adams, dude. 42 is always the answer.”

Coworker: “You’re sick, man.”

Me: “I knew you’d say that.”