(I am working near the registers, but I am not currently on register. Our return policy is printed on every receipt in clear, bold lettering.)

Customer: “Hey, I wanna return this CD and get all my money back.”

Me: “Sure thing, just let me call someone over and they can help you out.”

(I call my manager over to do the return and I go back to work.)

Customer: “They had better give me all my money back, or I’ll cause trouble.”

Manager: “What can I do for you today?”

Customer: “I wanna return this CD and get all my money back. Here is the receipt.”

Manager: “Alright, everything looks okay; can I see the item you want to return?”

(The customer hands over an unwrapped CD case.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, but I can only give you a refund on unopened merchandise. If the disk wasn’t playing I can replace it for you though.”

Customer: “No, you’re gonna give me all my money back, or I’m gonna file a lawsuit.”

Manager: “Go ahead and file a lawsuit. I don’t care. The return policy is on the receipt, and clearly says items must be unopened in their original packaging in order to be returned for a refund.”

Customer: “No, it doesn’t say that. Where does it say that?” *looks at his receipt* “D***.” *walks out*

(I am a male, waiting for my boyfriend at a book shop, and use the time to strike up a conversation with two other patrons. At some point in the conversation, we mock Justin Bieber, and one of them calls him ‘gay.’)

Me: “You do realise I’m here waiting for my boyfriend, right?”

(They laugh nervously in embarrassment. I decide to alleviate the tension.)

Me: “And Justin Bieber is not gay! He’s dating Selena Gomez. If anything, he’s a lesbian.”

(A friend of mine walks in and gets in my line. His ex-wife and he live close by each other, and he gets to see his daughter on his scheduled weekends, but also throughout the week if he’s not busy.)

Me: “How are you doing today?”

Friend: “Oh, not too bad. I have a date with a cute red-head this afternoon.”

Me: *knowing he is talking about his daughter* “Oh really? What do you have planned for today?”

Friend: “I don’t know. I think we’re gonna go to the park and let her ride her bike around, and then go get some lunch.”

Me: “Sounds good! Hope you guys have fun!”

(My friend wishes me a good day, and heads out the door. My next customer walks up.)

Customer: “It sounds like he’s going on a date with a four year old.”

Me: “Actually, she’s six!”

(It’s raining out. I am watching the rain through the window and notice a guy on his cell phone. Then I see him shake his head and look at his phone. He looks up and sees my store and starts heading in.)

Customer: “My phone just stopped working! I need my phone. I was on a business call and it just stopped working!”

Me: “Maybe it got wet and has water damage. Let me—”

Customer: “I have never gotten my phone wet! It does not have any water damage!”

Me: “Sir, I just saw you talking on your phone in the pouring rain.”

Customer: “So what?! Rain isn’t going to water damage a phone!”

Me: “Sir, rain is water. If I may see your—”

Customer: “You don’t know what you’re talking about! I guess I’ll have to go somewhere else to get service!”

(I am the customer in this scenario. I have decided to have lunch at a local muffin/sandwich shop. I finish my order, and a couple comes in behind me with two children. The mother leaves to go to another store, and the children begin to run the length of the store without any input from their father. I finally get my food tray, and am stepping away from the counter, when the older of the two, the son runs into me from behind, full tilt. Barely keeping my balance, I cry out.)

Me: “Hey! Watch where you’re going, buddy!”

Father: “Don’t you f****** talk to my kid like that!”

Son: “Yeah!”

(The son aims a punch at my more tender areas. I thankfully turn to the side quickly enough to avoid the hit in the crotch, but the son ends up smacking the hard back of the cell phone in my pocket. He falls to the floor, holding his hand and wailing.)

Father: “You son of a b****! You hit my son!”

Me: “No… he just—”

Father: “Someone call the police! That man hit my son!”

Me: “Look—”

Father: “I saw you! You hit my son! I’m gonna—” *starts advancing on me with fists clenched*

(The owner suddenly comes over.)

Owner: “[Father], that’s it! I’ve had it! I’ve told you not to let your kids run around here, and now you’re threatening my customers. I don’t care if you’re related to me; I want you and your kids out of my store, now!”

Father: “But he—”

Owner: “Remember, [Father], you installed the video cameras for me last week. I watched your son run into and try to hit this guy. GET OUT!”

(I didn’t lose my meal, but I was able to eat it in relative peace after the father and the owner finished a protracted screaming match with the father losing and leaving.)