(This gentleman has just ordered a vanilla cone. My coworker is standing at the window giving it out while I am beside her. He asks an odd question as he is handed his ice cream.)

Customer: “Do you believe in unicorns?”

Coworker: “What?“

Customer: “Doo-dee-doo-dee…”

(He takes the ice cream cone and smashes it onto the top of his head, I’m assuming as to resemble a unicorn horn, and then drives away.)

Me: “Oh, my.”

Coworker: “Did that really just happen?”

(Every item in our store is one dollar.)

Customer: “Excuse me, I need help with your Christmas ties. I can’t get them to work.”

(The ties in question play music when you press the button.)

Me: “Of course, ma’am. All you have to do is press the button firmly and hold for two seconds. The button isn’t super sensitive to light presses to avoid the music playing from an accidental press.”

(I show the customer the difference between lightly pushing and intentionally pushing the button.)

Customer: *lightly pushes the button* “See, these don’t work!”

Me: “Ma’am, just press and hold the button for 2 seconds.”

(I demonstrate again in case she hadn’t seen it the first time.)

Customer: *pushes button several times very quickly* “You must be lying to me. It still doesn’t work!”

Me: “Ma’am, all you have to do is push the button once and hold it for 2 seconds.”

Customer: *pushes and holds button* “Finally! These aren’t very good quality, are they?!”

(Another customer who has been listening from the next aisle speaks up.)

Customer #2: “Ugh, lady, you’re in a dollar store! It’s a Christmas tie. You press the button for two seconds and it plays music. It costs a dollar. What more do you want?!”

Manager: “And who was helping you today?”

Customer #1: *points to me* “That nice blue haired girl over there. I think it’s so fun that she has blue hair. Very unique.”

Manager: “We think it’s awesome. Have a good day!” *turns to next customer* “Hello! Who helped you out today?”

Customer #2: *points to me* “That heathen with the blue devil hair and no makeup on.”

Manager: “That’ll be $34.50. You have a nice day.”

Customer #2: *yells across store* “Thank you for the help, heathen!”

Every worker in the store: “YOU’RE WELCOME!”

(I’m stocking soup when a man approaches me.)

Customer: “Where’s your bacon bits?”

Me:*looking up* “Down at the end of this aisle, on the right, at the bottom.”

Customer: “Hold on…aren’t you [my name]?”

Me: “Yes. Can I help you?”

Customer: “I’m [name]! We went to high school together. Wow, you sure must have had it rough, huh?”

Me: “Sorry?”

Customer: “Well, you know, all this time and you’re just stocking shelves…”

Me: “I’m the owner of this and two other stores. I went to business school for years and invested in the stock market.”

Customer: “Oh! Well, nice to see you again, then…”

(I found out later that he was a janitor.)

(A few years ago, around noon on Christmas day, several dozen Chinese people walked in to our Kosher deli style restaurant, apparently in a group. One walked up to the front desk.)

Man: *softly* “Is it okay if we’re here?”

Hostess: “Yes, we serve everyone, but are you sure you’re in the right place?”

Man: “This is [restaurant], right?”

Hostess: “Yes sir, it is.”

Man: “Well, we figured since you Jews are all coming to our restaurants tonight, we’d return the favor.”

Hostess: *slightly shocked* “Thanks. Right this way…we’ll seat you!”

(…and they’ve been back every year since!)

(I am working in the men’s department when a well-dressed, handsome man comes up with a few pairs of pants. Most of them are one size, while one or two are one size larger than that.)

Me: “Did you find everything okay?”

Customer: “Yes, thank you.”

Me: “I see here that these are one size larger than the others. Did you need the two different sizes?”

Customer: *sheepishly* “Yes, actually, I do.”

Me: “I was just checking. Sometimes clothes don’t get put back in the proper piles and sizes get mixed up.” *continues ringing him up* “Are you purchasing these as a gift? We can provide you with a gift box.”

Customer: “Oh, no, both sizes are for me.” *leans in to whisper* “You see, I need one size for most of the time, and another for… that time of the month.”

Me: *speechless*

Customer: “Don’t judge me! My wife cooks fattier foods for a whole week when…you know! It’s like Thanksgiving every night for a week!”

Me: “Oh, wow. I can’t imagine what she’s like while pregnant.”

Customer: *visibly pales* “I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, no. I can’t have that happen! I’ll get FAT!”

(Usually, I cashier at my store. It is slow, so I am called to work on the floor.)

Customer: *recognizing me* “Oh, hey, I didn’t know you worked on the floor!”

Me: “It’s slow, so they put me to work out here.”

Customer: “I’m surprised they didn’t just send you home. This place is a graveyard at this time!”

Me: *laughing* “Afraid they don’t do that. If you have a pulse and can stand in one place, you’re good for work!”

Customer: “But you do go home right?”

Me: *jokingly* “Home? No, they have a big cage in the back where they lock us up overnight until they need us again.”

Customer: *horrified* “Well, I never! I’m never shopping here again if they use slaves!” *storms away before I can say I am only kidding*

(My shift ends and I’m leaving. I overhear the managers talking.)

Manager #1: “Some woman called to complain about our slaves.”

Manager #2: *grinning* “Dang, how’d she find out about that?!”

(I am a manager at a popular fast food restaurant and currently serving customers in the drive thru. I have a headset on to hear what customers are saying at the speaker.)

Coworker: “Hi there, how can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, I just came through here and got small fries, and I got NO ketchup! I want new fries WITH ketchup!”

Coworker: “Okay, sorry about that ma’am. Just pull to the second window and our manager will help you.”
(I prepare the new fries and put them in a bag, and make sure to grab a handful of ketchup packets to accompany them as she comes up to my window.)

Me: “Sorry about that, ma’am! Here you are. The fries just came up!”

Customer: “How can you give someone fries with no ketchup!”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am! Have a good day!”

(Thinking that would be the end of ketchupgate, I resume my other regular duties. Ten minutes later, the same woman, now irate, storms into the lobby and up to the counter with her food bag in hand.)

Me: “Hi there, ma’am, is there anything I can help you with?”

(She overturns her empty bag and several unopened ketchup packets spill onto the counter.)

Customer: “You gave me nine ketchup packets for one small fries?!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “You gave me NINE KETCHUP PACKETS for ONE small fries! Are you trying to be smart?!”

Me: “Ma’am, didn’t you return to the drive thru for the sole reason of getting ketchup?”

Customer: “But NINE ketchup packets?!”

Me: “I’m sorry ma’am, I suppose I just wasn’t aware of how much ketchup you wanted.”

Customer: “I demand to speak with your manager!”

(I look at my uniform and then the surrounding crew members’ uniforms. My uniform is quite clearly different from all others.)

Me: “I am the only manager on duty, ma’am.”

Customer: “YOU’RE the manager?!”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “And you gave me NINE packets of ketchup?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “Well what do you have to say for yourself?”

Me: “I suppose I am pleased to know that I was able to go above and beyond your expectations for ketchup sustenance.”

Customer: *storms off muttering incoherently*