(The store I work at has a policy where an employee has to check every customer’s receipt on their way out the exit. After checking several receipts, a customer walks up with three items in his cart and starts walking right past me.)

Me: “Sir, I need to check your receipt.”

Customer: “I only have three items in my cart.”

Me: “I know, but it’s store policy. I just need to mark it with –”

Customer: “It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You’re only checking my receipt because I’m black! You think because I’m black, I’m a thief!”

Me: “Sir, I checked the receipts for everybody in front of you, and I’m going to check the receipts for everybody behind you. Now if you’ll let me see your receipt, I just need to mark it. You’re holding everybody up.”

Customer: “No, I’m not moving until you call your manager! I don’t shop here to be treated like this! You d*** racist!”

(At this point, a big, imposing customer waiting behind him–who just happens to also be African American–explodes.)

Big, imposing customer: “GET YOUR A** OUT OF THE WAY NOW!”

Customer: *hands me receipt*

Related:
We Need One Of These In Every Store, Part 2
We Need One Of These In Every Store

Customer: “Excuse me, where are your graphic novels?”

Me: “Graphic novel section? If you’ll just follow me, I ca–”

Customer: “No. Graphic novels.”

Me: “Graphic novels. Right this way–”

Customer: “No! Graphic novels!”

Me: “Graphic novels.”

Customer: “No… graphic novels!”

(A moment of silence passes…)

Customer: “Sorry, I’m feeling contrary.”

Related:
At Least She’s Being Honest

(I worked at a store that cashes peoples personal cheques. A young, 17ish boy approaches me.)

Me: “Hello, how can I help you?”

Customer: “I need to cash this cheque, please.” *hands over information*

Me: “Okay, everything looks good. Can I have the cheque, please?”

Customer: “Sure.”

(I scan the cheque through and an account pops up. It had been used before only two hours previous at another one of our stores not far from my location.)

Me: “Just give me a moment. I need to go to the back to verify your cheque, and I’ll be back with your money.”

Customer: “Okay.”

(I go to the back of the store and call the number on the cheque. An older gentleman who I believe to be the customer’s father answers the phone.)

Customer’s father: “Hello?”

Me: “Hello, sir. I believe your son is here with a cheque that you gave him and that he is wanting it to be cashed. I just wanted to make sure this was correct as we have cashed one already today for the same amount.”

Customer’s father: *calmly* “What’s your address?”

Me: “It’s **** Macleod Trail SW.”

Customer’s father: “I’ll be down there in a few minutes. I don’t live far… just don’t let my son leave.”

(I head back to the front to talk to the young customer.)

Me: “Hey, sorry this is taking so long…”

Customer: *explodes* “WHATEVER! You’re taking forever! This is my dad’s g**d**n cheque and it’s good! Why are you taking so long?! He has lots of money and he gave this to me to cash so that I could have the money!” *rants*

(As he is ranting, a large man about the size of Vin Diesel comes in the store. The look on his face is sheer anger. He just stands there in the lobby as his son reams me out.)

Me, to customer: “Why don’t you ask your father?”

Customer’s father: “YOU LITTLE B**TARD!”

(I have never seen a boy try to run so fast out the door in my life. He only makes it to the parking lot outside the store before his father nabs him. Let’s just say his buttocks learned the value of a dollar.)

Related:
Ah, Fathers, Part 2
Ah, Fathers

Lady:  ”Hey, we’ve heard that there might be some kind of oil something on this boat…”

Me:  ”Sure, let me check.” *checks* ”Come and look–your oil reservoir is almost completely empty. You should fill it immediately, and it will cost about $*.**.”

Lady:  ”Oh, that’s a lot. How far will that get us?”

Me:  ”All the way to the middle of the lake.”

Lady’s husband: *laughs hysterically*

Related:
Someone’s Not Getting Any Tonight

(A young couple with an almost stereotypical southern accent enters the shop, browses around, and pick up some things, then go to the cash desk.)

Me: “Is that everything for you today?”

Woman: “We’re on our honeymoon…”

Me: “Okay… will you be paying with cash, debit, or credit?”

(The man throws some money on the counter, saying nothing.)

Me: “I’m sorry, we can’t take American money.”

Man:“WHY  THE &@^# NOT? AMERICA IS THE GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD!”

Me: “Well, that might be the case, but this isn’t America.”

Woman: “What?”

Me: “This isn’t America. It’s Canada.”

Woman: “But that’s part of America, right?”

Me: “No.”

Man: “Oh, I get it. It must be Canada day. That’s when they pretend to be independent.”

Me: “Sir, we ARE independent. It’s a separate country. Different money, different government, different accents.”

Man: *winks to his wife* “Right…”

(I work in the gift shop. Our zoo has an alligator exhibit consisting of 15 three- to four-foot long juvenile alligators.)

Customer: “I was wondering if you guys sell alligators here.”

Me: “Yeah, we have stuffed ones over here, and we have some PVC ones over here.”

Customer: “No, like, I wanted to buy one of the alligators.”

Me: “Like… out of the exhibit?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “Oh… well, no.”

(A woman comes into the store just before closing, and asks where our muffin pans are.)

Me: “Right this way…”

Customer: “So how do you make muffins?”

Me: “Well… I guess you’d just have to buy a box of muffin mix and read the directions.”

Customer: “Well, what do you usually put IN muffins?”

Me: There’s the mix, then the eggs, then the milk, or possibly water….”

Customer: “What do I do with all of that?”

Me: “Normally, you would mix the ingredients and put them in the muffin pan.”

Customer: “So I just pour them in the pan?”

Me: “You can… but most people put the batter in paper muffin cups.”

Customer: “So do I put the paper cups in before or after the batter?”

Me: “…”

(I am folding clothes when I am approached by an angry looking customer. I turn to her, and she lowers her voice to almost a growl and narrows her voice.)

Customer: “I hate this store. I hate you because you work in it. I’m going to take it out on your family and kill them all.”

Me: *alarmed*

Customer: *glares

Me: “Is there anything…”

Customer: “HA! HA HA HA! FOOLED YOU! You should have SEEN your face! Got you!” *strolls off*

Me: “Hello, and welcome to ***** Hotel. How was the drive up here?”

Wife: “Oh, it was stunning! I have never seen such beautiful trees, and the water, such a pretty color in the lake!”

Husband: “It was a very nice drive indeed.”

Me: “Well that’s great, we pride ourselves on our natural beauty here in Canada. Can I get your names for your reservation?”

Wife: “Yes, indeed. Here you go.”

(She hands me her confirmation sheet.)

Wife: “Can you tell me though, how do you get the water in Lake Louise that turquoise color?”

Me: “I’m sorry? What do you mean?”

Wife: “Well the water is so clear, but it’s green, it looks like the ocean. Do you paint the bottom that color?”

Me: “Oh no, the water has a green color because of the copper minerals in the water. When they oxidize, that’s why it looks like the ocean.”

Wife: “Oh, that’s crazy! Everybody knows copper is brown like a penny, not green. It’s painted, isn’t it?!”

(I tried to explain for quite some time that we don’t dye the water, and that copper is the reason it looks blue-green.)

Wife: “Well there is no way that its natural! ”

Me: *getting annoyed* “Yes, we drain the lake and paint the bottom of the lake at night.”

Wife: “See, was it so hard to tell the truth?” *walks away*

My manager: “You know, I should fire you for that… but I think I would have done the same thing.”

Client: “I need a flight.”

Me: “Sure, ma’am. Where to?”

Client: “Bison.”

Me:  ”Um… okay, ma’am. And that is?”

Client: “In the US.”

Me: “Sure… and what state?”

Client: “I am not sure, but I need one leaving Friday.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but I can’t find any flights to Bison.”

Client: “It’s a BIG place. ”

Me: “Do you mean Buffalo, New York?”

Client: “We don’t call them BUFFALO anymore.”

Me: “Ma’am, they didn’t change the name of the city.”