I work at a little mom-and-pop grocery store, where we stopped accepting checks as payment before I started working there. I was on register on a Tuesday afternoon when an elderly woman came up with a few cans of soup. She fixed me with a stare that probably caused many young children to soil their pants about fifty years ago. A few hours later, I was pulled aside by management.
She has dementia and shops using checks, then the manager calls her son, and her son pays her bill over the phone. I was written up for not knowing this woman and the deal her son had made with the manager. My passenger sighs loudly and says:.
An old lady wanders in during a slow afternoon and places a pile of pennies on the counter. While at work, I slip and land back-first on the edge of a stair.
By lunchtime, though, sitting at my desk has me completely worn out and aggravated, and as I go to stand up, I make a horrible sound. I realized what I said as I said it and plopped back down in my chair as laughs and various forms of WTF popped up around me. I work at a popular bookstore chain in the USA. It was about four hours into my shift, and not a ton was happening.
Out of the corner of my eye, an older woman came up to my till with a dark object in her hands. I put on my cliche customer service voice and face. To my horror, she plopped down a dead black pigeon onto my counter. In my three and a half years of retail, this had never happened to me. My mouth agape, I stammered out:. I spent ten minutes deep-cleaning the counter and had my coworker who always wears gloves dispose of the poor creature.
