The Danger of Flying with Autopilot.

"Did you find everything alright?" I asked across the counter with a smile.

She looked at me oddly, unsure of what to say. What was her problem? I was just asking...wait...

That is when I remembered that today I was actually the shopper, not the cashier. 

Not to boast but...

"That is a great bunny you have there!" I said smiling to a little girl who was toting a toy rabbit nearly her own size.

"I know isn't it?!" Her young mother exclaimed as she placed her merchandise on the counter. "I stole it from Wal-mart®. It was just sitting there on a table looking so cute I HAD to swipe it for her!"

And yet, she wondered why I thoroughly inspected her shopping cart before I finished ringing up her purchases.

It's Okay, I Needed a Vacation Anyway

"Thank you for calling [my store] how can I help you?" I answered the phone at my cash register, preparing to simply list our store hours as that is the most commonly asked question over the phone.

"Yes sir, I have a question about a product." Her elderly voice was cheerful, and full of the warmth of a freshly baked batch of cookies. "Now I am not sure what it is called, but I saw it while I was on vacation in Florida. We go to Florida every year you see, my husband and I. Well the kids are there you see..."

This was going to take a while. The line at my register was filling up quickly. There was nothing else for it; I tucked the phone on my shoulder and tried to ring up the sales while she told me of her vacation to sunny Florida.

"It is SOOo nice down there, and the people are so friendly. It's just always nice to see the ocean too you know."

Good! She paused for a breath! "Was there a product you were looking for Ma'am?"

"Well now I was just getting to that part. See my Cousin and I were walking around and looking at these shops. They have the cutest shops down in this little town..."

Much, later I finally tuned back in to hear her say "So I'm really not sure what you call it, I just know it works REALLY good with seashells. Do you have any of that?"

"Let me transfer you back to the craft department. I am sure someone back there can help you specifically with that question."

"Why thank you sir! You have a good day!"

My sincerest apologies to whichever coworker of mine took that call.

I'll Just Take That, Thanks!

"I just love your store! Every time I come here I find so many good things."

She was middle aged, with a bubbly personality, and enthusiastically piled her merchandise all over my counter; that is, until she got to the bottom of her shopping cart.

"Oh no! How could this have happened?!"

She gingerly picked up a floral arrangement in a glass bowl that was completely broken. I restrained myself from answering "Well, often when you place something delicate AT THE BOTTOM OF A PILE it tends to break."

Instead, I simply said "I'm sorry about that, here let me take it for you."

"Oh—well, um...what are you going to do with it?" She said, as she reluctantly handed it to me.

"It has sharp edges ma'am, I can't sell that. I have to throw it away."

"Oh well that is just too bad. See now, I could still use those flowers inside it. Tell you what, can I just have it? I mean you can't sell it right?"

I knew what words I was keeping from coming out of my mouth, but I can't tell you EXACTLY what my face was saying; I was too preoccupied with biting my lip.

"So I can just take that home with me?"

"No Ma'am. I'm sorry I can't allow that."

"Oh well that is just too bad. I am sorry you can't too."

For future reference, it isn't polite to break someone's things and ask if you can have it since it is broken anyway.

Epilogue:

Oddly enough this customer decided we were going to be "friends" and would always find me and want to talk whenever she shopped.

Keep of the Sidewalks! She is driving today.

It was a slow morning at work; I was the only cashier on duty. A little lady with a skein of yarn slowly shuffled her way to the front. To my surprise however, she completely walked by my station and stood in front of a completely empty booth. Placing her yarn directly in front of the "Closed" sign, she stood there, expectantly staring off into space.

"Um—Ma'am? Are you ready to check out? Because I am open over here."

"Oh!" She turned around and looked at me, then back to the empty register booth, then back at me. "I see, I was just so confused. I didn't know where to go."

That is when I began to pray for everyone driving that day.

Indignity

I know I'm a terrible person. I know it. The poor women at my counter continued to talk about her late husband, how wonderful he was, and how important it was for her to honor him by decorating a corner of the house around his urn of ashes. All the while I'm literally biting the inside of my cheeks to keep from laughing in her face.

I know! Now you hate me too. "Why were you laughing at this sweet little old lady?!" You ask in a horrified voice.

Because, not one time in her monologue did she actually say "my husband's urn." Every single time she said "my husband's urinal." That's right. U-R-I-N-A-L. That was a priceless mental picture.

Not a Fan of Fans.

"I need some help here!" The woman suddenly announced while approaching the checkout lane. My lane was completely empty, so I waved to get her attention.

"I can help you Ma'am."

"Yes! A Man! You would know exactly."

Can I just say that while I am confident of my masculinity, I don't fit into many of societies boxes. Statements like this usually make me slightly nervous— unless opening the lid of a jar is somehow involved. She held up two spools of ribbon.

"Are these the right colors for [random animal]?"

"I am sorry, I actually don't follow sports; you are talking to the wrong person. Let me get you—"

That was when she began to hiss like a cat. Hunching her shoulders and bearing her teeth, she "scratched" at my face three times, suddenly straightened up gave me a "you are really strange" look, and walked away. I can only imagine what game day is like at her house!