(I work at the fitting rooms of a retail store. Two women are trying on bathing suits. They each have had obvious plastic surgery and enormous racks.)

Customer #1: *dumps a pile of bikinis on my desk* “None of these fit! It’s ridiculous that your store doesn’t carry anything to fit me.”

Customer #2: “Don’t waste your breath…she wouldn’t understand. Look at how tiny her boobs are!”

Me: *speechless*

Customer #1: “Honey, let me give you my brother’s card. He can give you MUCH better boobs.”

Customer #2: “He did mine too! Look how bouncy they are!” *jiggles chest*

Me: “I’m…okay with C-cups, thanks.”

Customer #1: “Call him if you change your mind! Life is better with huge boobs!”

(I am helping a man at the fish department when this happens.)

Customer: “So, goldfish evolve into koi when they outgrow their tank…”

(I look at him waiting for him to say he’s joking, but he’s completely serious.)

Me: “It’s a fish, sir, not a pokémon.”

(A customer approaches the teller window with a withdrawal ticket.)

Me: “Hi there! Withdrawal today?”

(The customer seems taken aback.)

Customer: “What?!”

Me: “You’re taking out cash, right?”

Customer: “Oh, yes. I thought you knew about my drug problem!”

(I’m sweeping when an older gentleman comes up. Note that I’m female.)

Customer: “It’s good to see you doing that.”

Me: “Oh…um…thank you.”

Customer: “So many of you young ladies these days are d*** fem’nists.”

Me: “Actually, sir, I am a feminist. It’s just a little dirty, so I need to clean up.”

Customer: “You d*** fem’nists! Taking jobs from real ‘Mericans who need jobs.”

Me: “Sir, I was born in this country. I’m a third generation American. Being a feminist makes me no less American than you. I just support women’s rights.”

Customer: “That ain’t ‘Merican! Women ain’t ‘Merican!”

Me: *speechless*

(We are a fair trade store and, as such, sell items such as incense and incense burners. We are sometimes mistaken for a “head shop”. We also rent kayaks in the summer.)

Customer: *looking over his shoulder a few times* “Where is your ‘special merchandise?’”

Me: “Sir?”

Customer: “You know…” *winks* “…your ‘back room stuff.’”

Me: “Sir, we don’t have anything in a back room. All of our stock is out on the floor.”

Customer: *pointing to the kayak storage room* “Then, what’s in there?”

Me: “That’s our kayak room.”

Customer: *knowing look* “Oh…your ‘kayak room’. Can I see your ‘kayak room?’”

Me: “Sure!”

(He walks back, opens the door, walks in. I can hear him moving things around for a few minutes before he returns with a confused look on his face.)

Customer: “There’s kayaks in there!”

Me: “Yep.”

Customer: “Where’s the weed?”

Me: “Bye, now!”

Little girl: “My mom seems unemployed, but I think she’s some kind of secret agent.”

Me: “Why?”

Little girl: “I found handcuffs in her drawer behind the makeup. I can never find her gun or anything else, though.”

(I work in a well-known alcohol retailer. There are a number of signs that state in large, bold print that it is illegal to purchase alcohol for minors all over the store. Also, for our store there is no “the customer is always right” rule when dealing with alcohol: the law takes precedence. Anyway, I’m preparing to close the store when a woman rushes in).

Customer: “Thank f*** you’re still open! I need a present for my daughter’s 16th birthday. She loves bourbon. What do you recommend?”

Me: “I’m sorry, did you just say “16th” birthday? Ma’am, I’m very sorry, but it is illegal to purchase alcohol for minors. I cannot serve you, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store.”

Customer: “What the f*** are you talking about? She’s my daughter. I can buy her booze if I want to!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m afraid not. As these signs quite clearly state, it is illegal to purchase or supply alcohol to a minor. This does not make a distinction as to whether you’re a parent or not. Truth be told, as a parent, you should know better.”

Customer: “She’s my f***ing daughter and I’ll buy her f***ing alcohol if I f***ing want to! Now shut the f*** up and do your job!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am doing my job. Obeying the law is a very big part of my job, as [corporation name] takes a very dim view of staff members who breach the responsible service of alcohol laws. Now please leave my store.”

Customer: “F*** YOU THEN! I’m not buying the booze for her. I’m buying it for me! Now f*** you and sell it to me!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am…you’ve already told me it’s for her. I’m not selling you anything. What you’re asking me, a complete stranger, to do is break a Federal Law and put myself at risk of over $90,000 in fines, the loss of my job and never being able to work anywhere that sells alcohol again. I’m not willing to do that for my family, so why would I do that for a rude customer?”

Customer: “Who the f*** do you think you are to say no to me? Do you know who I am?!”

Me: “Someone who has absolutely no care for the law, her children or their well-being, and had better get the f*** out of my store right now before I physically throw you out and call the police?”

Customer: *shuts up and flees*

Related:
He Fought The Law, And The Law Won
She Fought The Law, And The Law Won

(I am a vampire at a haunted house. My costume includes fangs, a cape, and of course, I am drenched in blood.)

Teenage girl: *looking extremely mad* “What is this?! They got your costumes all wrong!”

Me: *snarling, not dropping character* “You smell delicious…it’s so rare we get fresh victims…”

Teenage girls: “No, no, no! Vampires drink ANIMAL blood! And why aren’t you sparkling?!”

Me: “Your neck…it’s so…inviting—”

Teenage girl: “This is WRONG! You aren’t real vampires!” *stomps away*

Related:
Less Twilight, More Daylight, Part 6
Less Twilight, More Daylight, Part 5
Less Twilight, More Daylight, Part 4
Less Twilight, More Daylight, Part 3
Less Twilight, More Daylight, Part 2
Less Twilight, More Daylight