This second cash register story happened at a fast food restaurant in Paris. I was waiting in line, and in front of me was a guy who, judging from his clothes, was obviously very poor. He had a bushy beard, but he did not smell bad, so I'm not sure if he was a homeless bum or not. Maybe he was just a rookie bum.



He ordered his meal, and handed out a completely worn out 50 Francs bill (roughly the equivalent of $10). His bill was crumpled and dirty, torn in two pieces held together with scotch tape, and one corner was missing. I was standing just behind the poor guy, close enough to hear the conversation between him and the restaurant employee.



- Employee: I cannot accept this bill, Sir, do you have anything else?

- Rookie Bum: That is all I have.

- Employee: What did you do to this bill anyway?

- Rookie Bum: It was already like that when I got it.

- Employee: (in an empathic voice) I'm going to accept it for this time, but I'm really making an exception, you understand? And next time anyone gives you a bill like that, you should refuse it.



The employee put the bill in his register, on top of the appropriate pile. The guy then took his food and left, and I moved up to the register. I ordered my food - a "Quarter Pounder Royale with Cheese" combo - and took out a 100 Francs bill (~ $20). I was expecting more than 50 Francs in change, so I knew perfectly what was about to happen. Just like I anticipated, the employee opened his register and got my change ready, which included the worn out bill.

As the employee handed my change to me, I just gave him a "tsk-tsk..." smile. The employee smiled back, as if he was saying "Hey, can't blame me for trying!", and changed the bill for another in the pile.



Then the next customer walked up. He placed his order the following way: "Hi, I'd like a number 3 combo, with a Diet Coke and a chocolate sundae. I'm gonna pay with a 100 Francs bill too, so don't try to sneak your stinky old bill in my change."





Now you share your cash register stories. Or you can fag-jack this thread like every other.

Like I care.

Those stories were right on the money.

I hate the cash machine where I work.



I am sure if more GABbers were from Belfast, they would be posting cash register stories about the idiot girl in the chippy.



Or about how I make a 'whoooo' sound when I pour salt on the chips.

About a week ago, a cute-looking cashier at Target told me he liked my purse. I was excited, because the purse was new, and I thought it was great that a guy had noticed. However, when we got out to the parking lot, Spicey told me that the cashier was a fag.



At first I suspected that the Haggis was jealous, but now that I think about it, he was probably right. I mean the guy works at Target, and their commercials are pretty gay.



Plus he had this swishy way he moved his hand when he gave me my receipt.



*cries*

Last night, I was using the self-service checkout at the grocery store. I was buying a bunch of stuff and had two small pies from the bakery dept. They were from this place and are very tasty--banana cream and apple-blueberry crumb.



They were the last two things in my basket and they wouldn't scan. I pressed the assistance button and the girl came over. She ran them over the little windows and it wouldn't beep.



She said, "I can't scan these without a hand-scanner--just take them." I did.



When I got to Daisypie's house, I told him, and he said I stole them. I said, no, she stole them and gave them to me.



They tasted really good. I don't feel guilty.

THIEF!

I posted this about a year ago.



A few years back, in more of a simpler time, i went to the Dairy Queen with a bunch of friends. I walked up to the counter and there was this shaking little girl with a trainee tag on. In a quivering voice she asked me what i would like. I responded "A large strawberry shake please"

Her fingers ran over the keypad, "What was that sir?"

"A large strawberry shake."

"Um.. What size?"

"Large"

"And Wh..What flavour?"

"Strawberry"

Anyway i sat down at the table with my friends to enjoy my large strawberry SUNDAE.

This is my first time posting here so y'all be kind...



...of course it has very little to do with a cashier story but a story about a waiter who didn't put everything on the check. I think it fits.



A friend and I went to dine at a place in Houston called the 59 Diner. We had an appetizer (fried mushrooms - really good) and some entrees.



For the life of me I can't remember what exactly the entrees were, but there were some problems with them and my friend had to send hers back for another.



By the time all was said and done, we'd received a check for just the fried mushrooms - no drinks and no entrees.



After consulting with my friend (a much more evil person than I) we ended up paying for just the check and leaving a whopping tip that pretty much included everything. Is that wrong?

Meh, the only one that came to mind immediately was when I worked at Busch Gardens in Williamsburg (I was 18). I was the cashier for the hotdog/pizza place where everyone takes the brewery tour.



One day, when I had just started my period, it was very busy and instead of the usual filling orders and taking the money, I was put on a cash register island so that I was standing in one spot for a long time.



I started to feel dizzy and was getting larger and larger dark spots in front of my eyes. I called for my supervisor (Ben - cute and in his early 20s) and asked for a break or I would pass out any moment.



When the rush was over, Ben came and asked me how I was. Then he very awkwardly asked if I was pregnant. I grinned sheepishly and said that it was just the opposite - I was on my period.

I'm shocked, SHOCKED, that they speak english in parisian fast food restaurants!

Hey Straw, have you ever had the chance to hear David Cross's routine on his time spent at Busch Gardens ? I highly recommend it !



Best Elephant story ever !







Ever !

Elephant? I'm guessing it would be the Busch Gardens in Florida?

I think I've posted this before. I used to work at KFC. One quiet Sunday afternoon I was on drive through, Jaggy was on front counter, the supervisor was helping by making burgers and the cook was doing his thing. No other staff.



Anyway we were cruising through the orders, chatting away and not really concentrating. Then the drive through beep went again and instead of saying "hi welcome to KFC, can I take your order?" I said "hi welcome to KFC, can I take your money?



"... I mean your order! Well... I will take both eventually."



The guys in the car were like, "what the Frost?"



My supervisor also had a headset on, and she managed to stop laughing long enough to press the button on her hip and say "you would think she gets paid by commission."



... I'm glad they found it amusing.

Recently, I was a Rite Aide getting ice cream, and the employees were huddled around a bill and they were trying to figure out if it was fake. Finally, they got out one of those counterfit pen thingies and it turned out to be fake.



It was a $1 bill.

I used to work at a movie theater. As the box office salesman, I handled money more frequently than a child-prostitute working outside of Ollie's house. My job required a rudimentary grasp of mathematics.

Example of Math Skills Needed:



A customer gave me a twenty dollar bill, and demanded change based on the integral of the function relating movie quality to perceived enjoyment.

Sidenote: Keep in mind that these employees, who couldn't handle the task of subtracting ten from fifty, voted in the last election.

One weekday afternoon, while business was light, I asked a coworker to cover my shift while I had lunch with a friend. The coworker (a transplant from Louisiana whose employment probably owed something to the ADA) agreed cheerfully to take over the register.



For reasons unknown, my friend and I decided to eat at a German resturant that day. It was a horrible decision. The menu was inscrutable- I think I accidentally ordered cow brain. But this is all tangental to the story...



After I finished puking up the cow brains (about thirty minutes later), I returned to my job. Everything was fine.



That is, everything was fine until I noticed that my replacement had his hands down his pants... IN THE BACK. He was picking his butt!



(This was not just scratching. He was digging deep, as if mining for bituminous coal that could only be found deep within the rich veins of his colon.)



I watched in horror as he stopped fingerFrost-ing his ass long enough to rifle through dollar bills while producing change for a customer.



...



After I had him fired, I traded shifts until the filthy poop-money was out of circulation.

I used to work at a fast-food joint, and you would not believe how often this scenario happened:



Me: Hi, what can I get for you?



Customer: Blah, blah, some artery clogging Shakespeare, blah, blah, and a Coke.



Me: What size Coke?



Customer: What sizes do you have?



How many times have any of you been to a fast food restaurant and they have had sizes other than small, medium, and large?



If any of you say more than zero, you're a liar, go hang yourself.

How many times have any of you been to a fast food restaurant and they have had sizes other than small, medium, and large?



If any of you say more than zero, you're a liar, go hang yourself.



Kiddie and SuperSized AKA Extra-Large.



Well I am just saying...

Speaking of cup sizes, I really despise Starbuck's cup size chart. Grande? Loco? Mottle? What the Frost! I have no idea what I am ordering anymore at that place.



I usually just grunt and say I want a ice chocolate thing with coffee in a big cup.

Once I was giving my address to a bank teller, when I had just moved to a new town where I resided at 4325, 54th street south.



For some reason, instead of saying "forty-three twenty-five" or "four three two five," I said "four-thousand three-hundred twenty-five."



She wrote my address down as 4000300205, 54th Street South.

How many times have any of you been to a fast food restaurant and they have had sizes other than small, medium, and large?



After I had been at KFC for a while, they stopped selling medium chips and drinks. It was brilliant, nearly everyone that had chosen medium started ordering large. Large chips are the size included in the family packs.









Fat people.

America may be the fattest country, but I'll have you know all my flub flub is from drinking and not fast food. So there.

I used to work at KFC. One quiet Sunday afternoon I was on drive through, Jaggy was on front counter, the supervisor was helping by making burgers...



Your KFC's sell burgers, too? 'Tis truly a mythical place, this New Zealand!

I used to work at KFC...the supervisor was helping by making burgers...



So- is the chicken beef?

The only thing worse than the stupid martian size names at Starfux are the way that dumbasses pronounce them.



How the hell do you get "ven-tay" from "venti?" Four out of five dipShakespeares say it this way. Are Americas just too Frost-ing lazy to look past the fourth letter of any word?

And too lazy to type past it. See the tiny ones I used? It is a hard task to keep them all tiny, but it can be done. But I will not do it for long. In fact, I will stop now.

Four out of five dipShakespeares say it this way.



..said the guy who hates Starbucks so much he spends hours there listening to others order coffee

You know what pisses me off? You drive up to the drive thru and the voice on the other end garbles something at you. You say I'll have a #3 and coke.



"I'm mumble mumble have to mumble speak up sir."



Volume control is on your end dipShakespeare.

<action> notices Phuc is a four letter word </action> are your posts only for lazy Americans goes through my mind

..said the guy who hates Starbucks so much he spends hours there listening to others order coffee



Y'see, Inbred Jed, up here in the "city," we have things called "lines."



It happens when there are enough people in a given establishment to cause the coppertops behind the counter to not be able to serve the people fast enough to keep the traffic flowing. Things back up, much like, uhhh... uhhh...



I'm gonna stop there.

Your KFC's sell burgers, too? 'Tis truly a mythical place, this New Zealand!



Your KFCs don't sell chicken burgers?

This one time me and 2 friends had been doing some slightly less than legal substances, and had the pasties. So my friend was sayin' "Know whats bad when you have the pasties? PEANUTBUTtER!"



So, we drove through the McDonald's drive-thru. The speaker box thing wasn't answering us, so we just drove through to the window. I asked for a milkshake, but their machine was broken.

So, then my friend asks "Then can we get some peanut butter packets?" and the woman asks "Uhhhhh, how many?" and my friend says "I dunno, alot." so she commands us to drive through to the next window. The woman there hands us a full, large drivethru bag with peanut butter packets in it. "Would you like, uhhh, forks with that?" and we reply "Spoons please." and so we drove off and ate peanut butter packets.

<action>is confused</action>

Why would having those little circles stuck to your nipples make you want peanut butter?

...I was referring to dry mouth, but now that you mention it...

And beetles. Mmm-hmm.

Your KFC's sell burgers, too? 'Tis truly a mythical place, this New Zealand!



Your KFCs don't sell chicken burgers?



I think only Oz and South Africa still sell chicken burgers through KFC, mainly cos we still use proper chickens and not horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

Your KFCs don't sell chicken burgers?



They do, except we call them by their proper name, Chicken SANDWICHES.

Bump, because I do whatever Millie tells me to do.

Not far from my office is a convenience store. It is run by a family from India. I stop by there frequently in the morning to get a quick snack for breakfast.



Most of the time, either the husband or wife is working the register and always strike up a conversation with me. Although, we don't know each other's names. The husband and wife are about 50ish.



Behind the counter are an assortment of adult magazines such as Penthouse, PlayBoy and Hustler. Each one is discreetly covered with a small brown paper bag.



One day. one of the little brown paper bags had fallen off revealing a naked woman on all fours with her buttocks fully exposed. Her face was turned looking back at you and she had a great big smile.



Me: U'm, you better check your magazines on the back rack, one of the bags fell off.



Lady Indian Woman: Ohhhhhhh! I'm so sorry!! So sorry! I apologize!!!!



Me: No need to apologize. I like naked women.



To this day when I go in to get my morning snack, the woman never strikes up a conversation with me anymore and want even look me in the eyes.

I used to cashier at Toys 'R' Us in high school. One day, this ghetto-faboulous and ENORMOUS black lady comes through my line.



When I gave her the total, she reaches into her shirt, down in her cleavage, and pulls out the money that had been molding in her bra - you know, in the underboob part.



So I said, "That's a good place to put it."



And she said, *gum smacking* "Well, ain't no one gonna come lookin fo it."



Oh, and then there was the time before Halloween where this dude came in looking for giant bounce balls, because he was dressing up as a penis.

Coincedence or am I racist?



I just got back from the gas station, and this indian fella rang me up. My total came to $10.89. I handed him a $20. My change?



$9.11



Awkward.

mailman, while in france did the McDonalds staff and customers.



1. speak english for you

2. Do you speak fluent french?

3. Or where there subtitles?

Mailman is fluent in the language of love.



Plus, he's French.

does he give lessons in french oral?

or where there subtitles



Apparently Gobadine doesn.t speak fluent English.

I think you will find my inability to spell correctly is due to me being moron, not being unable to speak the lingo.



But thanks for bringing it to my attention. I'll try not to point out any of your failings in future.

And I'll be sure to point out all of yours, because I'm an Emerson, and it makes me feel good about myself.

In the Bronx (and probably everywhere within a 30 miles radius), you almost have to club the guy over the head to get coffee without sugar.



"Uh, a large coffee, milk, no sugar."



"With sugar?"



"No sugar."



"No sugar?"



"No sugar."



"Oh..."

it makes me feel good about myself

You really need to meet tubgirl.



What ever happened to her?

I'm so poor, I can't even pay attention.





Just my two cents.