Third customer on a Sunday, and you're a twat.

AN OLD man queued at my till at 10 o'clock last Sunday and with a face like thunder too.

When I came to serve him I asked if he would like any help with his packing and the usual friendly customer service.

Declining my offer, I began the transaction. I then asked my friend Angie what hours she was working that day, she answered me, and then I told the man how much his shopping had come to,as I held my hand out to receive his money.

The man viciously threw his £10 note in my hand and then when I came to look at his face, he looked as though he wanted I start a fight. I said thank you.

The man huffed, puffed and mumbled something using the word 'customers.'

It was obvious he had a problem with me, so I replied "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, YOU fucking heard me!"

Confused, I said, "actually, no I never which is why I asked you again."

"Well maybe you should WAKE UP THEN!" He replied.

Embarrassed for him and trying so hard to think of a come back I said "£2.49 change, there's your receipt and if you're got a problem with my service then there's a supervisor there for you to complain to."

The man replied: "What's the fucking point? They aren't any good either."

"Yeh, ok then. Can I help who's next please?"

The next customer said to me, what the hell was that all about?

My thought's exactly.

"I know I may look tired and look like shit with bags under my eyes, but asking a colleague one question doesn't affect my scanning rates.

Fuck off, you sad, old, lonely loser.