Tales of the weak and stupid

The setting: the customer service return line at Target.

Where – apparently – I spend half of my life.

A guy walks up to the register carrying a jar of salsa. No bag. Just saunters over with the jar and plops it down on the counter.

GUY: "I'd like to return this salsa."

CASHIER: (eyeing jar suspiciously) "Is something wrong with it?"

GUY: "Yeah, I can't open it."

**cough – wussy! – cough cough**

CASHIER: "Do you have a receipt?"

Ah, the age-old question.

GUY: "No. I've had the jar for six months."

CASHER: (giving him the same look I was giving him behind his back) "So you want to return it?"

Wait. 

This guy has been holding onto this store-brand salsa for six months and he can't open the jar so he's returning it? It probably cost him more in gas to drive to the store for this time-wasting trip than to just throw the damn thing away. I know it cost him more in pride to admit that he can't open a jar of effing salsa.

CASHIER: "Ok, I'll need your license…"

I know the drill all too well. No savvy shopper is going to waste their $70 in annual returns on a jar of salsa!

Amateur.

(Perhaps he can use the return money to purchase one of those rubber grippy thingies that help open really touch jars?)