I stopped into the shop to pick up coffee. I chose a couple of bags, and waited behind the couple in front of me to pay.
The man behind the counter took the bags, asked me if I wanted the beans ground and when I declined, rang them up. I handed him a couple of bills from my wallet, and waited while he made change. He handed it to me, and pulled the receipt from the register, saying, "Now, if you'll just sign here for me."
I stared at him, confused. "Sign what?"
"Uh, you're supposed to sign if it's more than $25," he said, stuttering slightly.
"It was less than $25," I pointed out, "and I paid in cash."
"How about we just tear this up?" he said, slowly ripping my receipt in pieces.
I frowned at him and took my bags, shaking my head, and left.
I can't decide if he was high or if he was trying to make me accessory to some sort of fraud.
Go listen to some good music: "Strange" from the album Document by REM. Because dishonesty is generally the furthest thing from my mind, I never expect it of others, and the idea that he might have been messing with the register didn't occur to me until later.