Thrain
I used to do the same thing when I lived in Cambridge - I always had a pocket full of Scottish notes after coming back up for the holidays. I'd always end up with the fucking jobsworth in tescos refusing to take them.
"Sorry, Mite, we carn't tyke these, it's not legal tendah!"

Fucking cocks!

Which reminds me . . . . .

In the same Cambridgeshire village i lived in, there's a small shop where the cashier is truly thicker than pigshit!

You have no idea.
At first I thought he was "special", but then I checked it out and realised that he was just an inbred hicktown mouth-breather. No excuses, he's just a worthless human being.
There are hundreds of stories, but this one got me most of all.

I went in to the empty shop, got two bottles of wine, put them on the counter, each priced £4.95. He rang them through, and charged me £12.

Me: "Sorry, pal, but I think you've over charged me - it should come to less than a tenner - the wine says £4.95 each."

Mongo, aged about 20:" Does it? oh, well, it's done now . . . (he hesitated, unapologetically looking back at me, waiting for me to say 'oh, never mind', but instead I quietly asked again for the money back - like anyone would.)

Mongo: **sensing my unwillingness to give in** "I can't change it now. What do you want me to do about it?"

A queue was now forming behind me, but they were on my side.
"You've got to charge him what it says on the label," said the guy behind me, "It should be £9.90."

Me: "It's not a problem, if you could just refund the money you overcharged me, I'll be on my way. Easy"

Mongo, says quietly in to his chest: "I don't know how".

This really struck me, cause I'd lived there for a year and a half, and he'd always worked in that store, and his acts of absolute fucktard-dom were now legendary amongst the people in the village

Me: "Could the manager do it?"

Mongo Speaks in to a microphone, pannicking : "Rose, Rose, I need help, please!!"

The manger comes out sighing, and helpful as ever, simply gives me the cash the moron had overcharged me, at the same time, she asks him to take care of the large queue of customers at the other till.

The next part nearly floored me!

Mongo, close to tears now: "But I don't want to! Please, Rose, please can't I just mop the floor?"

The large queue of customers he's supposed to be serving suddenly go quiet in shock, but the manager remains composed, and in a fair but firm voice, she says: "No, just do your job!"

Mongo, on the verge of breaking down, shakes his head as he repeats over and over: "I just want to mop the floor, please, let me mop the floor!"

I walked out, not sure if it was funny or tragic - I couldn't even bring myself to laugh.

It's not as if it's a high pressure job, working in a sleepy village store, where the rest fo the staff were actually pretty nice. What could possibly cause him to crack?
(Barry Subchimp, Wed 18 May 2005, 16:41, Reply)