.
so tonight after work i stop at my neighborhood rite-aid for i tell him i don't, he rolls his eyes and reaches for the phone to call the manager who's god knows where and as soon as i realize it's gonna be complicated i grab a candy bar off the rack and tell him to ring it up and i'll pay for it with my card and get some cash back to pay for my prior purchase and no manager will be necessary.
he's relieved, the line behind me relaxes, we do the deal and as i try to hand him back one of my new twenties to pay for my shit, he holds a hand up and tells me to wait, grabs the receipt from the first sale, flips it over and starts writing on it. i'm thinking maybe he needs to document some irregularity in the transaction after all, so i wait
and wait...and wait...until after an eternity of brow-furrowed scratching he finally drops his pen, takes my twenty, gives me my change--and then instead of tucking the receipt he'd worked so hard on into his cash drawer as i'd expected, stuffs it into my bag instead.
all becomes clear when i get out to the car, fish it out and observe the work of this young, bright-eyed product of the california educational system first-hand.
it's now official: america is doomed.
5 comments:
Hey, at least he got it right, how about the cashier who recently asked me how much the item was: I was buying one item, marked two for a dollar.
And here I thought he was writing down his phone number and/or address.
blindman: nice to know teh stupid is universal.
will: you know, that possibility never even occurred to me--i must be slipping.
Kudos to him for working it out without a calculator. That's bright for Gen Y.
ross: oh, trust me--he was very proud of himself
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