The customer has seemed normal and maybe even intelligent throughout the shopping purchase. But then they get to the checkout and as soon as human interaction is required it all falls apart. The checkout operators really are our first line of defense against the stupid customer!
(At the checkout line, a customer and her grand daughter have placed mood rings all over their fingers.)
Customer: “Isn’t it amazing how they know exactly what type of mood you’re in?”
Me: “Would you to add any mood rings?”
Me: “Well, it will be [price].”
Me: “Your change is [change]”
(I hand the customer one of the new five dollar bills.)
Customer: “I think this bill is counterfeit.”
Me: “I assure you, it’s not ma’am.”
Customer: “Sure it is, it’s colored.”
Me: “It’s actually a mood five. It changes according to your mood.”
Customer: “The things they do with technology!”
Customer: “Now don’t forget my military discount!”
Me: “Do you have a military ID, sir?”
Customer: “Sure do.”
(He starts digging through his wallet and doesn’t immediately find it.)
Customer: “I can also show you my scars from Vietnam!”
Me: “Just the ID will do fine.”
(I am working as a cashier and an elderly lady comes in through my line.)
Old Lady: "Honey, you are always so nice to everybody. I bet no one ever does anything for you!"
Me: "Thank you! But that’s not true."
(I put the groceries in the cart for her, but she still stands by my register.)
Me: "Did you need anything else?"
Old Lady: "Here, you just take this as a lil’ thank-you from me!"
(She thrusts a couple of dollars at me. Mind you, there are cameras at every register and we aren’t allowed to take tips.)
Me: "I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t accept that. We don’t take tips."
Old Lady: "Take it, please!"
Me: "No, I really–"
Old Lady: "TAKE IT!"
(She then opens up my work shirt, puts the money inside, closes it, and pats my chest down.)
Old Lady: "Now you have a nice day!"
(There are guys from my college behind her and I’m red as a beet.)
One of the guys: "Heh heh, and how are you doin’?"
(I have psoriasis, a hereditary condition which leaves me with large red patches on my scalp. This occurs while I am waiting in line at a convenience store with a woman standing behind me.)
Customer: "What’s wrong with you?"
Me: "I beg your pardon?"
Customer: "Those ugly blotches all over your head. What do you have?"
Me: "Oh, it’s a highly contagious flesh eating disease. Very painful."
Customer: "Oh my gosh! Really? How contagious is it?"
Me: "Well, you probably already have it."
Customer: *rushes out of the store in a panic*
(Around 2 a.m, a man comes in and is searching up and down the aisle I am stocking.)
Me: "Hello sir, can I help you find anything?"
Customer: "No, it’s much too embarrassing to ask for."
Me: "Okay, well let me know."
(He walks away and continues searching. Five minutes later he’s back.)
Customer: "I’ve decided I don’t care how embarrassing it is."
Customer: "Where’s the lube!?"