The High Point Of My Night

(I work as a cashier and am finally at the end of a long, frustrating split-shift. About 10 minutes to closing a group of guys in their early 20s come in and head straight for the confection aisle. They seem to be having a hard time deciding, and become panicked when my supervisor makes the closing announcement. They shove their candy, chips, and pop into the arms of one guy, and push him toward the cash. They leave the store, leaving their friend to pay. He places the items very slowly on the counter, blinking with confusion a number of times, swaying a little on his feet. I ring his items through.)

Me: “That’s $14.59. How will you be paying?”

Customer: “Uh… debit?”

(He slowly pulls out his wallet and fumbles for his card. He finally places it in the debit machine, and then stares at it, unmoving. The machine times-out, so I reset it. He manages, with some difficulty to make it through the rest of the transaction. When I place his bag in front of him, he looks confused.)

Customer: “Is this mine?”

Me: “Yes, it is.”

Customer: “These are the things I bought?”

Me: “Uh… yes. Are you all right?”

Customer: “Huh? Oh, yeah, don’t mind me, I’m just really fried.”

(He pulls a 2 dollar coin out of his pocket and puts it on the counter.)

Customer: “Don’t tell; my parents know the owner.”

(He left, marveling at the automatic doors as he did. He has been back to the store a number of times, in the same state, and makes my day whenever he shows up.)