So I’m working the registers, and over by the express checkout lanes, I hear a little boy yelling. What’s he yelling?
“I HAVE TO POOP! I HAVE TO POOP! I HAVE TO POOP!”
His face was red. I think he may have been crying. I do not doubt, for a moment, that he had to poop.
Mom kept doing her transaction and checked out, telling him to be quiet. And she took him, walked past the restrooms, and left the store, with him shouting all the way.
I had a woman buy a home enema kit. When she handed it to me, she said, “this looks like fun!”
Another store employee came to check out at my register. I asked her a question, which I meant as small talk and making conversation, which she took incredibly defensively. Oops. But that’s not the surreal part. That’s what she said next:
Her: “You grabbed my baby.”
Me: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her: “I’m sure you do.”
As far as I can remember, that’s the first time I’ve ever even talked to her. She works a different shift and a different job.