Today I want to tell you a funny story about a somewhat dim-witted cashier.
I was waiting in line at a supermarket and witnessed the following:
The cashier, a man in his early twenties, was ringing up a customer, and there is a big packaged thing the person wants to buy, obviously not regular merchandise (this supermarket only sells food and household stuff permanently, but has different non-food stuff every week).
Cashier: Oh, that´s a strange thing. Where is it from?
Custy: Over there.
Cashier: Was there a number on it?
Custy: Uh.. no?
Cashier: See, I cannot determine its price. (Examines the thing thoroughly, then flips through a handbook, two minutes later he runs over to the non-food section)
Cashier: Hm, it seems to be the last one, so I cannot determine the code number. I suppose it is from last week.
Custy: Now what do we do?
Cashier: I don´t know. (Contemplates for ten more seconds, then shouts at another cashier) Mister Herpderp, how do I process this?
Mister Herpderp: Have you searched for the code?
Cashier: Yes, not there.
Herpderp: Is it listed in the book?
Herpderp: Is there a price sticker on it?
Cashier: No, nothing like that.
(Note that the whole kawabanga has been going on for a swell five minutes now)
Herpderp: Well, I don´t know. And scanning it does not work?
Cashier: Oh! I don´t know.
Cashier (turns red): Ten ninety-nine please.
--Soft Ice Girl