Like a Freight Train
Back in the early 90s, supermarket cashiers had to type every price in by hand. I was at a grocery store, walking toward the only open check stand with a single bottle of soda in my hand. Suddenly, this hoity-toity lady with a cart stacked to the top flew out of one of the aisles like a freight train and cut me off.
“I’m in a hurry,” she said, then looked away like she was annoyed that I’d even been born. I looked at the cashier. He rolled his eyes and got back to work. Five minutes later, she’s walking out the door and it’s my turn to check out. What the cashier told me made my fist pump. “You’re good,” he says. “I put your soda on her tag.” Man, that felt good.
Story credit: Reddit / Irishzombieman