(An elderly woman well into her 70s comes through the check-out line with a single bottle of wine. I start to scan the bottle through.)Customer: “Wait! Aren’t you going to check my ID?”
Me: “Er, no, ma’am, I don’t think it’s really necessary…”
Customer: “Well, that’s no good! You should check all ID if you’re selling alcohol.”
Me: “Well, okay. May I see your ID, please?”
(She hands over an ID card that is obviously fake.)Me: “…ma’am, this card says you’re seventeen.”
Customer: “Oh, dear! You’ve caught me! I’m much too young to be buying this! It’s a good thing you were checking IDs. I’d better just go now!
*skips out the door*Me: “…”
**********
Me: “How would you like your steak, sir?”
Customer: “Alive.”
Me: “I’m sorry?”
Customer: “Alive. I want it alive.”
Me: “I’m not sure I get you sir - do you mean rare?”
Customer: “No. Alive! When I poke my fork in, it will have to say ‘MOO!’”
Me: “…I’m not sure we can arrange that for you, sir. It’s impossible.”
Customer: “You’re saying it’s impossible for you to bring a cow in here?”
Me: “That’s right, sir.”
Customer: “OK, I’ll have mine well done then.”
À lire sur (the customer is)
Not Always Right.