Werner Herzog’s Yelp Review for Trader Joe’s on Hyperion:
Madness reigns. The first challenge your soul must endure is the parking lot. You wait with your vehicle half blocking traffic, creating a perfect circular vortex of anger that encompasses the street and the entrance to the store. Once you attain access to the lot, you discover that this is a false achievement; other motorists stop and start with no apparent thought or plan— turns once begun are quickly abandoned, the drivers seemingly immune to geometry. At last a space opens up, but the price is having to enter the store. Inside, human beings scramble like beetles whose rock has been upended. Though the aisles are wide it is impossible to avoid physical contact with your fellow shoppers. It is a grotesque parody of the bazaar at Marrakech, as if dumb animals had been granted only the amount of sentience required to mock humanity. The aisles are not labeled. You must search for every item. The constant walking up and down causes a numbness that borders on profound despair. Your conscious mind registers merely annoyance, impatience. But on a cellular level, your body cries out in weariness. The fatigue you feel is a warning: millions of years of evolution trying to save you from becoming mired in the tar, from sinking into the warm blackness and ultimately being reclaimed by the earth itself.
Be sure to get the dark chocolate peanut butter cups, they are right by the register.
See also – Josh Gad Impersonates Jenifer Lewis on set of The Wedding Ringer
Non-cashiers of Reddit: What’s the "It didn’t scan, so it must be free hur hur hur" of your profession? from AskReddit
I used to be in the beer industry (selling to supermarkets) and I’d get
“you can just load that pallet into my truck” every day.
Now I’m in the elevator industry and about once a week I get
“I bet that has its ups and downs.”
When I worked at a ski shop setting up snowboard rentals I’d ask how they wanted their stance, regular or goofy, so I could set the bindings up. At least 3 times a week, for the 6 months a year we did rentals, for the 4 years I worked there, I heard from dads “well he rides regular, but he’s pretty goofy hahaha.” By the end of my time there I never even bothered with a fake chuckle anymore, I just didn’t have it in me.
Selling lottery tickets.
I’m like what numbers would you like?
Everyone be like “the winning ones”.
Mail carrier here.
“You can keep the bills !” hur hur hur
I’m obligated to ask those visiting my work place if they have any weapons to declare.
“These guns!” flex
As a church musician, I’ve heard things like:
“How does it feel to have the largest organ in town?”
WARNING – Don’t use puns with Kleptomaniacs. They take things literally.
A guy goes to a psychiatrist. The guy is wearing nothing but Saran Wrap.
The psychiatrist says to him, “I can clearly see you’re nuts.”
Quality control at a mirror factory is a job I could see myself doing.
I saw a dwarf climbing down the wall of a prison.
He looked in my direction and sneered at me.
“Well!” I thought. “That’s a little condescending.”
1 to change the lightbulb, 9 to build the libraries.
“I’m crammed into a burrow so small that my knees are up around my ears and the boom mike keeps slamming into my head, inhaling the potent scent of toffee-apple brandy and trying to drink a talking mouse under the table. But is it really the boom mike that’s making my head pound? I know for sure that my camera man doesn’t usually have two heads. I have to face facts. The mouse is winning.
Yesterday, I thought I knew what to expect from Narnia: good solid English cooking spiced up with the odd unusual ingredient, and good solid English people spiced up with the odd faun. And centaur. And talking animal. I’d longed to visit Narnia when I was a kid, but every time the notoriously capricious entry requirements, such as the bizarre and arbitrary lifetime limit on visits, relaxed the slightest bit, it would get invaded, get conquered, get re-conquered by the original rulers, or get hit by some natural disaster. The “Hundred-Year Winter” put the kibosh on the one time my parents even considered it.
When, by some bureaucratic miracle, my crew and I were permitted entry, I wondered if I was too old and jaded for Narnia. Maybe I’d been too old and jaded by the time I was twelve. Narnia is supposed to a land of clean living and old-fashioned values, where men are men and women are women and you have to go to Calormen to find anything more spicy than mulled wine. Not my kind of place at all, really.”
Fan fiction at archiveofourown.org