(A coworker is on break and has decided to do some shopping. She comes to my register with the biggest haul I have ever seen.)

Coworker: “There should be a booklet underneath the reception desk. Can you get it for me?”

(I start searching with the receptionist, who has taken an interest. We finally find the booklet.)

Receptionist: “Isn’t that…?”

Me: “Yes. Call the manager down.”

(The booklet holds a set of vouchers which are used for helping children and young adults from poor backgrounds with education and basic living (clothes, stationery, etc.). They don’t have a monetary value stated as they are linked to the budgets the local charities and schools involved in the scheme are allocated. No one except for senior staff are allowed to even touch them, and [Coworker] isn’t senior staff.)

Me: “Umm, I think we need a manager to approve these, as they aren’t meant to be for some of the things you’re trying to buy.”

Coworker: “Oh, you don’t have to get him involved. You just need to scan one whole column and it should be fine. If it doesn’t work, just move onto the next. Here, I can help!”

Me: “No, I would rather a manager oversee this. It’s going to be a large purchase.”

Coworker: “It’s only a couple thousand! Nowhere near enough to bother his ‘Royal Highness.’”

(I’m actually standing mouth agape when the manager arrives. He talks to the receptionist and looks bewildered as he comes over and takes the booklet from me. My coworker looks nervous.)

Manager: “What? How did you come by this?”

Coworker: “Oh, it’s nothing. I just thought I would treat myself. You know…”

(The manager signals for a guard to come over and my coworker is escorted out of the store.)

Manager: “What was she trying to do? Her trolley wouldn’t be covered by these.”

Me: “She said to scan an entire column.”

Manager: *bug-eyed* “An entire column!”

Me: “And to move onto the next if it didn’t work.”

Manager: “I’m pulling a couple of guys from the stockroom. I want to you and them to total up that entire trolley. I need to get in touch with [CEO].”

(We spend close to three hours totaling everything.)

Manager: “What’s the number, to the nearest thousand?”

Me: “Well, it’s more accurate to go with £4,500.”

Manager: “Great. So with that, she would have nearly blown the entire budget for [Primary School I attended].”

Me: “Wow.”

Manager: “I can’t understand where she got them from. They’re kept in the safe at all times, except for select days, and they are counted every week. Also how did she know stacking the vouchers would work? Only store managers know that. Only I know that!”

Me: “Maybe they aren’t real?”

Manager: “Oh, they’re real. The codes check out, and I put a notebook through with one to be certain. [CEO] is launching an investigation. I’ll probably lose my job over it.”

Me: “What happens to [Coworker]?”

Manager: “I called the police the second I got in the back. She’s being held. [CEO] is considering pressing charges. Either way, she won’t be working with us anymore.”

(The investigation found that the vouchers actually came from when the store moved location, but for whatever reason, weren’t voided and destroyed in the move. We still don’t know how she found out about stacking the vouchers. We haven’t heard much else on whether she has been prosecuted, but we are checking local news just in case. My manager was able to keep his job in the end, only because of our quick thinking, to which CEO thanked us personally. We got a nice bonus from it.)

Assistant Manager: “You need to quit.”

Me: “What?”

Assistant Manager: “You need to quit, like now.”

Me: “Why?”

Assistant Manager: “Because I was just speaking to [Boss], and he said the only way I’ll get a promotion is if you leave… so leave already!”

Me: “Well, you are my assistant manager. If you want to stay in this department, the only way to can get any higher is if you replace me.”

Assistant Manager: “So when are you leaving?”

(I’m about to answer when an email from Boss comes through on my computer. I can only see the notification and the first sentence, but the tone of the email isn’t too pleasant towards Assistant Manager.)

Me: “Umm, I’ll get back to you on that.”

(Whatever was said in that meeting he had with Boss, it certainly left an impression — and not the good kind.)

(I am a cashier at a popular hardware store. A sweet-looking old woman who looks to be in her 60s comes to my checkout lane with a variety of items, two of which are scotch tape and a yardstick.)

Me: *begins to check out items* “Hello, ma’am. Did you find everything alright?”

Customer: “Well, now that you mention it, I do have a question.”

Me: “Sure, what can I help you with?”

Customer: “Do you know what a measurer is?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “Well, my son knew I was running up to the hardware store and said that he needs a tape measurer. I got the tape, but do you think he means this for the measurer?” *points to yardstick*

(At this point, I am trying very hard not to laugh. However, I didn’t have the heart to tell her that that was definitely not what her son meant.)

Me: “I think your son will be fine with whatever you get him. Have a great day!”

(The old woman, who looked satisfied, walked out the door with her items. A man came to the store the next day to return some tape and a yardstick, saying something about his mother being confused! It certainly made my day!)

(My mother is going to the store, and decides to use the automated self-checkout. As a security precaution, the computer asks you to place each item on the belt after being scanned so it can weigh it and make sure it’s the right item. Everything is going normally until my mom tries to scan a certain item:)

Machine: “Place your helium balloon on the belt.”

(I am seeing my doctor again after a trans-abdominal ultrasound where I was given something I had assumed was a painkiller, as I was in pain before the exam. I am an abuse survivor, so gynecological exams are hard for me, but it’s worse when I don’t know what’s happening. I’m in my early 20s.)

Me: “Doctor, do you know what the nurse gave me before my ultrasound? It made me feel like I was spinning, and I saw colors and patterns on the ceiling.”

Doctor: “Let me look in my notes. I’m sorry that it made you hallucinate; we were just trying to make sure that, if the ultrasound had to be transvaginal, you would be calm and not remember it very well. Oh, I see. It was [Drug].”

Me: “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind next time a nurse tells me that they’re giving me [Drug].”

Doctor: “Anyway, I thought people your age do that sort of thing to themselves for fun.”

(I’m not a doctor, and maybe that’s the professional thing to do, but it sounds eerily similar to date rape to me. And I’m also not a drug user, but I’m pretty sure they like to know what they’re doing to themselves beforehand.)