(Our area has recently been hit with a bunch of fraudulent credit cards. We’ve been advised to double check IDs and cards. My coworker is checking out a customer and asks to see his ID.)

Customer: “What do you need to see my ID for?”

Coworker: “We’ve been advised to check all IDs. Besides the back of your card says to check ID anyway, so…”

Customer: “Well, I’m telling you I am not showing you my identity! This is ridiculous! Where’s your manager?”

Me: “That would be me, sir. You’ll either have to show identification, or use another form of payment.”

Customer: “Fine! Here!”

(He tosses his entire wallet at me. I glance at the ID, which is out of state. The man in the picture is very obviously not the man in front of me. Furthermore, the card is in a woman’s name. I slide the ID to the side and notice that another ID is underneath; this ID is to another person! My coworker has noticed this, too. He ducks around the bend, and I hear him calling the police. I pretend to run the card through and have ‘technical problems’, stalling him long enough for the cops to get to our store. When they search him, they find another wallet on him with various cards. He’d been using stolen cards all day without anyone checking them!)

(I work at the till. We always ask a few questions to every customer.)

Me: “Did you get everything you were looking for okay today?”

Customer: *nodding* “Thank you!”

Me: “Are you interested in any gift cards today?”

(The customer shakes her head side-to-side this time, with inflections to say ‘no’.)

Customer: “Thank you.”

Me: “That’ll be [price], please.”

(The customer hands me the money.)

Customer: “Thank you!”

Me: “And here’s your change and receipt.”

Customer: “Thank you.”

Me: “See you later.”

Customer: “Thank you!”

(An American customer approaches, and tries to pay with a card that isn’t his. It has a typically female name on it, and the signatures don’t match.)

Me: “I’m very sorry, but I don’t think this is your card. I can’t put through the sale.”

Customer: “It’s my girlfriend’s. She said I could use it.”

Me: “That might be so, but it’s illegal for me to finish the sale; I am sorry. Is your girlfriend in the store? She can come and sign for it.”

(I suggest this cheerfully, so that he knows I’m definitely not accusing him of having a stolen card. However, the customer instantly snaps and begins yelling.)

Customer: “YOU F****** AUSTRALIANS! I COME HERE FOR A HOLIDAY, AND YOU’RE ALL A BUNCH OF RACIST PRICKS! IF I WAS AUSTRALIAN, YOU’D F****** PROCESS IT! THIS S*** DOESN’T HAPPEN IN AMERICA! F*** YOU!”

(My manager, who happens to be nearby, decides to intervene.)

Manager: “Sir, that’s simply not true. It’s legislation to protect people from having their card stolen. We’re protecting your girlfriend’s money.”

Customer: “WHAT A LOAD OF S***. WELCOME TO F****** AUSTRALIA, HEY? F*** ALL OF YOU! F*** YOUR F****** COUNTRY! F****** AUSSIE RACIST C****!”

(He storms out of the store, leaving everyone speechless.)

Manager: “I wonder what he’ll do when he realises he left the card behind.”

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 10
No ID, No Idea, Part 9

(I have finished scanning the customer’s items at the register.)

Me: “Your total come to [price].”

(The customer pulls out a card to pay.)

Me: “What kind of card is it?”

Customer: “Debit.”

(I hit the debit key on my register. She proceeds to swipe it on her side, and I turn to finish bagging her groceries.)

Customer: “This thing isn’t working!”

(I turn back to see her holding the machine’s electronic pen, looking frustrated.)

Me: “I’m sorry; did it not read your card? These things get temperamental sometimes.”

Customer: “No, it read the card. But it’s not doing anything!”

Me: “Hmm. Well, what does the screen say?”

Customer: “It just says to enter my PIN.”

Me: “Well then, just enter your PIN, ma’am.”

Customer: “I did that twice, and it didn’t take it! It’s not working!”

(The customer proceeds to demonstrate, by WRITING her PIN on the screen with the pen.)

Me: “Um, no, ma’am. You use the buttons to type it in. The screen can’t read hand writing.”

(There is an annual bar crawl. The street is almost literally filled with people who can’t even stand. I am a customer waiting in line.)

Drunk Girl: “There… should be… more…”

(She is digging through her purse for cash.)

Drunk Girl: “Um…”

(The drunk girl hands the cashier her lighter and other various objects as she digs through her purse.)

Drunk Girl: “How much more do you need?”

Cashier: “$8.56.”

Drunk Girl: “Randy?”

(She starts looking around for her boyfriend, who has wandered off. Then she looks at me.)

Drunk Girl: “You’re not Randy… but can I owe you $8.56?”

(The cashier gives me a look of desperation. Seeing as this has been taking quite a long time, and I feel bad for the cashier, I take out my card to pay.)

Me: “Sure, add it together with my stuff.”

Drunk Girl: “Thank you!”

Me: “You’re welcome.”

(The drunk girl proceeds to just walk out of the store without her purse or groceries.)

Cashier & Me: “Miss! Your purse!”

(The cashier and I exchange looks.)

Me: “Good luck tonight.”

Cashier: “Thanks!”

Related:
I’ve Got That Drinking Feeling