I remember vividly the time I bought q-tips, toilet paper, toothpicks, and super glue at 3 in the morning at a 7-11. The clerk said “I’m not gonna ask.”
Yep.
Zsofia
October 7, 2010, 7:05pm
102
Ca3799:
I used to shop at this one particular convenience store just for the insults.
One, in the morning, the clerk said “Are you really going to work dressed like that?”
Another morning, he questioned my purchase of coffee and cigarettes. “Breakfast of champions,” I said. He replied “I thought that was gin and marijuana.”
Another time, I was buying a single beer for some BBQ sauce, and had my ID out because they had a sign up that said “We ID under 35” and I was well under that. He said “Oh, come on. Do you really get carded all that much anymore?”
I liked the abuse! LOL!
I’d go out of my way for that.
Hell, I have 3 and I don’t drink. I only picked this particular list because it included #7 .
astro
October 7, 2010, 8:41pm
105
Aswan:
When the weekend looms on the calendar, that means one thing: an overdose of football. And beer, chips and salsa, and pizza. Absolute Heaven.
We all usually get together at somebody’s place because a) it’s cheaper and 2) we can insult one another far more creatively. It has become my habit to bring more beer than necessary because we never know how many guys are going to show up and, God knows, you don’t want to run out in the middle of the fourth quarter.
So I usually get one of those big honkin’ 18 packs at 7 Eleven. But we’re going to a sports bar this time and so I just get one of those four bangers for myself. (They’re the tall ones so just one goes a long way.)
I put the beer on the counter and the kid looks at me and says, “Didn’t you mean to get one of the suitcases? I mean, you usually get the suitcase.”
I am confused at first. Is he suggesting that this was some silly mistake and that I’ll slap my forehead and say, “Of course, thank you for reminding me.”
Then it slowly dawns on me that what he is *really *saying is, “I mean, you are an alcoholic, right?”
Now maybe he’s trying to be courteous or friendly or chatty. No matter; I am now seriously pissed off. What I want to tell him is to f#%k the f#%k off. But I pride myself on my politefullness. That and the fact that he might have a gun under the counter.
So instead, I simply say, “No this is what I want. Would you ring it up? I’m in a hurry.”
There. I feel better. Thank you.
Something like this ever happen to you?
I glad you “feel better” but your bizarre, paranoid accusations make absolutely no ***ing sense. You are dialing a relatively innocuous comment WRT your normal purchasing habits into crazy land. This reminds of Joe Pesci’s “funny like a clown ” scene in "Goodfellas’
Not everything is all about you. Not everything is a moral comment about your personal choices. Sometimes a casual reminder is just a casual reminder. Get over yourself.
I don’t mind if cashiers remember me and my purchases and want to make innocuous small talk about it. What I hate is when cashiers I don’t know read my name off the receipt and say, “Thanks for shopping with us, Ms. needscoffee.” I know they’re instructed to do so, so I don’t tell them to shut up, but I want to.
Once I had a female cashier remark on the feminine products which were on the conveyor belt and about how she no longer needed them. I only wish I had had condoms there, too.
Indeed. Next time someone comments on the shabbiness of my dress, I will retort that it’s one of the symptoms of my disease.
And after you punch their lights out for bringing it up, you can also blame #5: Violent episodes associated with drinking.
Aswan:
When the weekend looms on the calendar, that means one thing: an overdose of football. And beer, chips and salsa, and pizza. Absolute Heaven.
We all usually get together at somebody’s place because a) it’s cheaper and 2) we can insult one another far more creatively. It has become my habit to bring more beer than necessary because we never know how many guys are going to show up and, God knows, you don’t want to run out in the middle of the fourth quarter.
So I usually get one of those big honkin’ 18 packs at 7 Eleven. But we’re going to a sports bar this time and so I just get one of those four bangers for myself. (They’re the tall ones so just one goes a long way.)
I put the beer on the counter and the kid looks at me and says, “Didn’t you mean to get one of the suitcases? I mean, you usually get the suitcase.”
I am confused at first. Is he suggesting that this was some silly mistake and that I’ll slap my forehead and say, “Of course, thank you for reminding me.”
Then it slowly dawns on me that what he is *really *saying is, “I mean, you are an alcoholic, right?”
Now maybe he’s trying to be courteous or friendly or chatty. No matter; I am now seriously pissed off. What I want to tell him is to f#%k the f#%k off. But I pride myself on my politefullness. That and the fact that he might have a gun under the counter.
So instead, I simply say, “No this is what I want. Would you ring it up? I’m in a hurry.”
There. I feel better. Thank you.
Something like this ever happen to you?
I think he was just trying to be nice.
Gilliver:
I was a convenience store manager for twelve years. One thing I never did was comment on customers alcohol purchases.
If someone came in once an hour every hour for three days straight and bought a case of beer and a roll of toilet paper each time, I still wouldnt have commented.
I did, however, have customers who would take it upon themselves to explain why they were buying alcohol on subsequent trips. You know: Company showed up. The first case fell off the back of my pickup truck and broke.
I had a trip to a convenience store that bugged the hell out of me, though. Christmas morning 2004, my boyfriend had passed away after an unsuccessful fight with cancer.
Leaving the Hospice residence, I had to stop and get gas. The world seemed strange to me as I had barely been out of the residence in almost two months. I walked in the door of a 7-11 and told the clerk I would like twenty in gas. He says to me: Hey SMILE, things cant be THAT bad !! I managed to force a little smile on my face.
The whole time I was pumping my gas, I was getting mad about it, though. Why the hell would he feel that he needed to comment on the fact that I looked sad?? Why did I feel the need to smile for him so he would feel better?
After I got done pumping gas I went back in the store and asked the guy if he knew where the hospice residence was (as if I was asking for directions). He said he didnt. I pointed to the road I had just come from and told him, it is a couple of blocks down that road and the next time you have a customer come from that direction looking like their world has just ended, maybe it’s because it has. And I turned around and walked out.
It probably didnt do any good, but I hope that clerk realized that personal comments to customers can sometimes be very inappropriate.
Some people have appointed themselves as Head of Cheerfulness Enforcement, or something. When I was younger, men were always telling me to smile. Apparently, women were put on the earth to smile at these guys, no matter what the women might feel like at the time. These Cheerfulness Enforcers are actually very controlling people, or they want to be.
Darth_Nader:
I remember vividly the time I bought q-tips, toilet paper, toothpicks, and super glue at 3 in the morning at a 7-11. The clerk said “I’m not gonna ask.”
Yep.
What, no baby oil? I never worked mid shift, and the store I worked at was NOT 7-11, but I did have a couple of guys come in and buy that combo, plus the baby oil. I never indicated my burning curiosity to my customers…but I gotta know, what DID you need that combo for? And would baby oil have helped in any way?
So what are you saying? That Aswan amuses you?
Lynn – I’m thinking school project left until the last minute, what with the super glue and all that.
Gilliver:
I<snip>
After I got done pumping gas I went back in the store and asked the guy if he knew where the hospice residence was (as if I was asking for directions). He said he didnt. I pointed to the road I had just come from and told him, it is a couple of blocks down that road and the next time you have a customer come from that direction looking like their world has just ended, maybe it’s because it has. And I turned around and walked out.
It probably didnt do any good, but I hope that clerk realized that personal comments to customers can sometimes be very inappropriate.
I think you handled that pretty well, actually - someone being that obnoxious when they work a couple of blocks from a hospice residence could use that information.
Lynn_Bodoni:
What, no baby oil? I never worked mid shift, and the store I worked at was NOT 7-11, but I did have a couple of guys come in and buy that combo, plus the baby oil. I never indicated my burning curiosity to my customers…but I gotta know, what DID you need that combo for? And would baby oil have helped in any way?
Did you work in a college town? When the art supply stores are closed, one has to improvise to finish that sculpture.
digs
October 8, 2010, 3:59am
116
Attack_from_the_3rd_dimension:
Attacklad and I were recently buying a few items: duct tape, trash bags and bleach and some other stuff. We were wishing we had time to throw in the obvious other items: hacksaw, rope, rubber gloves and anchors.
If the cashiers don’t notice what you’re purchasing, you can’t fuck with their heads.
Yeah, I thought it’d be funny if I bought nothing but ten pounds of apples and a pack of big old razor blades. On Halloween night.
But the cashier just rung them up. :~{
Try gunpowder, roofing nails, and teddy bears next time. Bring along the local TV asshat for maximum outrage.
Dallas_Jones:
I always hate it when service people pretend to take an interest in me personally and strike up a conversation.
There is this woman at the local Safeway who is always asking how my day is going, what I’m doing. She even gets overly personal and calls me “sweetie”. Very annoying and I have reported her to the management several times. But it does no good.
I’m always, like, “Fuck You, Mom!”
I guess I should have used smileys. This was a little joke about my actual mom.
If people can’t read the last sentence, they’re probably not going to notice the smilies, either.
This was in Las Vegas, and the guys in question weren’t students, though there was a college in town. Yes, I knew them well enough to know that they weren’t students. I didn’t know them well enough to know what they wanted that particular combination for. I probably didn’t WANT to know them well enough.
