From the same Val who brought you the outrageous case of the mail-order service clerk who tried to alter the chosen shipping method to save the customer money...comes the tale of the judgmental convenience store clerk.
I was waiting in line behind a large trucker-type at the Gas Station Chicken Store counter a few days ago. The purchase of said gas station chicken may or may not have been involved. I can only say that if it was, then Val became a graduate of the Unnecessarily Delayed Gratification Club that day. Against her will.
Trucker had good taste. He grabbed himself a 44 oz. foam cup and filled it to the brim with tasty carbonated brew. He then took a second cup and put the first cup inside. I do it all the time. Extra insulation. That beverage will remain refreshingly cold all the live-long day. The exception being that I have a spare cup or two at home, and double-cup there instead of inside the Gas Station Chicken Store.
The clerk looked at Trucker's cup rig. "You know I'm going to have to charge you extra for the cup." She said it like a true minimum-wage clairvoyant.
"Yeah. That's fine." Trucker had his money out, ready to pay.
"I'll have to ring it up as a cup of ice. That's eighty-nine cents."
"Do you want to get ice in it?"
"No. It's fine."
"Because I have to charge you for a second cup of ice."
"Are you sure you want the second cup?"
"I need it. My soda wobbles in my truck if I don't."
"All right, then. That's two twenty-eight."
The nerve of that quick-stop moralizer! It's not like the dude was counting out pennies. Or using an EBT card. Or looked like he slept under a nearby bridge. Stop fifth-guessing his motives. Sell him what he's buying. There was no turnip truck out front with a hunk of Trucker's hide on the pavement nearby. I saw no pumpkin frost on that country bumpkin. Nor did he have the smooth, soft skin that might signal that he was born yesterday. Trucker was a veritable rock. I'm glad he stood his ground.
Let the customer be right once in a while. Please.