Category Archives: From The Archives
Krazy Kustomer (Holding up two identical bags of corn chips for my inspection): Hey, how much is one of these?
Me: $1.29. It’s marked right on the bag.
Krazy Kustomer: No, I mean with tax.
Me: There is no tax on that.
Krazy Kustomer (thinks hard for a moment): Okay, so how much is one of these?
It’s a slow morning, so this is from the Facebook KKOTD Archives:
A middle aged man asks if he can write a check to pay for his gas. I ask in return if it is a local check. He assures me that yes, it is indeed. That sounds acceptable to me.
He writes the check and hands it to me with a flourish.
I look at the check.
I look at the check again.
Uhm… truly the world grows smaller every day, but this is still Wisconsin. His check is from Bangor. Maine.
I consider and come to this conclusion:
I explain to him that it is my considered opinion that “Bangor” and “Local” are not synonymous, given our current location.
He is surprised. Somewhat angry. “Then what do you mean by ‘local’?” he demands.
“Something much closer to a twenty mile radius than a 1,200 mile radius.”
(My other traditional answer is, “Close enough for Guido to drive to your house and break your kneecaps if your check bounces.” I don’t think this kustomer would see the humor though.)
He is still unhappy, but finds a credit card. As I run it through the cash register, he taps the posted sign that plainly proclaims, Local Checks Only and says, “Next time you should be more specific.”
Krazy Kustomer: “I need directions to [insert name here's] house.
Me: I’m really sorry, but I don’t know [insert name here].
Krazy Kustomer: He lives by the river.
Me: The Wisconsin River is over four hundred miles long. Can you narrow it down?
Krazy Kustomer: (after long pause) So … you don’t know him?
From the Facebook Archives:
Here’s a great event for the Krazy Kustomer Olympics!
Pick up a gallon of milk.
While walking toward the checkout counter to pay, twist the top off of the gallon of milk.
As you continue walking, attempt to fill up a baby bottle from the gallon of milk.
Extra points are awarded if you:
a.) Reek of alcohol.
b.) Stumble over your own feet.
c.) Style bonus is based on the size and artistic merit of the lactose-based blast radius you leave around you on the floor and/or rug.
From The Facebook Archives:
An elderly-ish customer of mine apparently mistook an ice cream bar for an egg salad sandwich and was quite surprised when he bit into it. He followed this up by requesting a receipt for his gas…to which I could only answer, “Yes sir, it’s in your hand.”
Really folks, you can’t make this stuff up.