(An elderly gentleman selects a paintbrush and takes it to the counter.)

Customer: “Now, I don’t pay for items. I sing and dance on the table tops instead.”

Me: (I laugh, thinking he’s joking.) “That’s $1.19 please.”

Customer: “Well I reckon that’d be about a minute’s worth of singing.”

Me: *still thinking he’s joking* “Actually it’s $1.19 so it’s probably more like a minute and twenty seconds.”

(The customer then starts singing a monotone song – something about a cat. He is hobbling from side to side. I couldn’t help it; I just laughed until tears were running down my face.)

Customer: “That was verse one! There are 93 more!”

Me: “In that case I’ll just take the cash.”

(I witness this exchange between a customer and my manager.)

Manager: “I’m going to have to ask you to leave your backpack at the counter.”

Customer: “Don’t worry about it. My policy is not to shoplift when my friends can’t spare bail money.”

(The manager laughs and walks off, letting him keep his backpack.)

Child: “Daddy! Look at this!”

(The father comes over to find his child looking at an adult magazine.)

Father: *to me* “What the h*** is wrong with you? How can you let a 6-year-old boy look at this smut?!”

Me: *ringing up another customer* “Sir, I’m with another customer right now.”

Father: *waving the magazine in my face* “He is way too young for this! Why didn’t you stop him from looking at this?” *he starts screaming obscenities*

(My manager walks by as this is happening.)

Manager: “Sir, she is a cashier, not a babysitter. It is not her job to watch your child, it is yours. She was doing her job when you came up to scream at her. Now get out before I call the police.”

(The man looks embarrassed as he leads his son out. A minute later, he walks back in.)

Father: *mumbles* “I forgot my other son.”

Customer: “I’m looking for a book about a football player.”

Me: “Do you know the title or author?”

Customer: “It’s about a kid who plays football.”

Me: “Is it fiction or nonfiction?”

Customer: “Which is the real one?”

Me: “You mean which is a true story?”

Customer: “Yeah.”

Me: “Nonfiction books are true stories. Is it a biography or autobiography?”

Customer: *exasperated* “What’s the difference?”

Me: “Biographies are written by someone else about a person, autobiographies are written by the person themselves.”

Customer: “I doubt he wrote it; he’s a football player. Do you know how many hits those guys take to the head?!”

(A group of four teens come in to see an R rated movie. Two of the kids have ID revealing their age to be 17. The two girls have no ID. I am a manager and am called over to assist.)

Me: “What’s wrong here?”

Male Customer: “See, me and him have our IDs because I drove.” *points to girls* “They are 17. They just forgot their IDs.”

Me: “Well, you owe me $100.”

Customer: “What? No I don’t.”

Me: “Oh, so you don’t take my word for it? You don’t trust me.”

Girl Customer: “Hey, we are 17. We know the rules. We just forgot our IDs.”

Me: “If you knew the rules, then why didn’t you bring your IDs? I can’t sell you tickets, but can I suggest a PG-13 movie?”

Male Customer: “Hey wait, why do I owe you $100?!”