When I was working for the supermarket in the deli section, I had seen some crazy shit. But never did I expect this.
It's 10:59, we close in less than a minute. I'm putting a slicer back together, and someone walks up, almost as soon as it turns 11:00.
"Woman": You guys open still? Great, I'll have--
Mike: We're closed, ma'am.
"Woman": But I have a number!
Mike: Hang on a sec, ma'am.
I go over to my boy Jay, who was wrapping up meats and cheeses and whatnot, and ask him what should I do.
Mike: There's this chick here, and she has a number. It just turned 11 though, man.
Jay: Fuck...just serve her and we can be outta here.
I go back to look at this chick, and she's tan skinned, 6'3". Big girl. Her waist is literally the size of my forearm, and her hips are the size of a goddamn dining room table. Horribly mis-proportioned. I pay no mind to it, get my gloves on, and go back to the counter.
Mike: What you need, ma'am?
"Woman": I need a half pound of this, a half pound of this, a quarter pound of this, and your phone number.
I didn't say another word except "How's this?" and "What else?"
Now, I know what your thinking. Why would I turn down a chick's phone number? And why is the word 'woman' in quotation marks. Well...aside from her height, and abnormally large ass...she had an adam's apple. A FUCKING ADAM'S APPLE!! IT WAS A DUDE! SHE WAS A HE! AHHH!!!!
Now when this all went down, yeah, my co-workers had their laugh.
Mike: Guys, I feel violated. Seriously. What are we doing after we get outta here?
Mike: Oh, yeah.
My other worker joined in.
Benny: You know this means.
All three: TIME TO SMOKE A BLUNT!
Mike: I need it after this shit. My house again? I got a movie.
Benny: I'll get some munchies.
Jay: I got the bud, son!
So yeah, it ended up taking a night of weed, movies and Cherry Coke to rid me of that pain. It was worth it. I was off the next morning anyway.
This has been another edition of SuperBeast's True Not-Really-Hollywood Stories. All names have not been changed. Fuck 'em.