There’s something about a good sale that drives people crazy. The store at the time was offering 10 dollars off of every purchase totaling 25 dollars or more and we were instructed to only give the discount to people who actually brought the coupon in. People were lining up around the corner to use their brightly colored ads while others tried the whole, “I left mine at home, do you have any behind the counter” routine.
“Ma’am, you only spent $24.99 on this purchase. Did you want to purchase something else so you can use the coupon?” I started putting the small pile of school clothes into a plastic bag.
The lady at the counter became annoyed with me as if I was the one who owned the company and had made up these rules. She stood next to her quiet husband and gently slapped the face of one of her three hyper kids. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you just give me the discount?”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I can’t give you the discount. We have some cheep candy right here that you can buy in order to use the coupon though.” I pointed to a small rack of chocolate covered raspberry snacks next to the cash register.
All of the sudden, the three children running around the counter stopped in their tracks and started chanting in unison. “Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy….”
They sounded like a choir of undead zombies in search of human brains to feast on. “No,you can’t have the damn candy,” the woman said.
“Oh, umm, sorry about that.” I just turned the rack of candy around in the hope that the children would just shut up, but it obviously didn’t help.
“Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy….”
“Ugh, if I’m going to pay money for candy I rather it be the good kind. I’ll be right back. I’m going to pick up a shirt for my husband to wear.” The lady left her husband with her zombified children and went to the men’s department.
The kids kept tugging on the pants of the extremely timid husband. “Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy….”
“We’ll go get candy later when your mom goes to work.”
“Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy. Candy….” The kids obviously wanted the candy right then and there.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The mother finally came back with a lime green polo from the Big and Tall section and threw it at my scanner. “Okay, now I can use the coupon.” I managed to bag the blindingly neon shirt and slide off into the stock room before I heard the faint sounds of the zombie chanting again.
Read the madness from the beginning.
Jazzed About Stuff 