I would like to blame the lack of sunshine for making people crazy, but I know they’re crazy all the time, so that can’t be it.

A little while ago, a lady dressed…shall we say…festively…approached the counter & asked if Big Lots sold fishing poles or something along those lines.  We’re like, “maybe…”

Evidently our answer didn’t satisfy her, because clearly, in addition to knowing the merchandise of our own store, we should keep track of all the surrounding businesses.  “Do you all live here?”

I was thisclose to saying, “No, I commute from Atlanta every morning.”

What the crap?
Later, this guy gives me his credit card to pay, I indicate the sig pad with stylus and direct him to “sign here.”

“My name?’

……….

I refrained, yet again, from saying what was REALLY on my mind: No, your occupation and blood type, and where you plan to eat supper.

I have saved the best for last, & this isn’t someone I think is lacking sense.  He’s about my age and farms.  He gives me his debit card to pay.  It’s kinda warped up and wouldn’t read, which is not unusual in my line of work because typically they’re dirt encrusted.  I type it in.  Couldn’t hardly make out the three digit code on the back, but I thought I had it.  Nope.  Decline.

Try again.  Nope.  Got it to run, but it declined.  I know this guy has money, so I cross my eyes, hop on one foot, pray to the Moon Goddess, and try it again.  It worked.  He says to me (super heavy drawl, talks slow), “You might have a little trouble gittin’ that to run…I washed it in the washin’ machine, and then I microwaved it.”

I thought I was gonna fall out.  I advised him to get a new card pronto tonto, because most people would have given up after the decline, but I knew better.  I’m still laughing.