(There is a customer coming through my line that is wearing cowboy clothing complete with 10-gallon hat, shiny belt buckle, and cowboy boots. There is another customer with a young boy standing behind them. I watch as the boy yanks on his mother’s skirt and points to the man in front.)

Young Boy: “Excuse me, sir; are you a REAL cowboy?”

Customer: *in a thick Texas drawl* “Why yes little man I am, but I only got to be a real cowboy because I ate all my vegetables and listened to my mother.”

(The customer then tips his hat to the mother and leaves. The boy does nothing but gush about his cowboy experience.)

Young Boy: “Mom! Go get more vegetables!”

(An eight-year-old boy has been pulling the same scam about three days a week for almost a month. He comes to the checkout with a few items and is always around $2 short. He freezes like a deer in headlights when asked if he would like to put an item back or go get more money. He’s gotten the act down so well, almost every time another customer feels bad for him and offers him the $2.)

Me: “Okay, the total is $12.12.”

Child: “I only have a $10.”

Me: “Do you want to put this back?” *holds up item* “It’s $2.19, so then you’d have enough.”

Child: “Ummmm. I don’t know. My mom needs it. She said to get these six things.”

Me: “You can go home and get the $2.12. I’ll hold these things here and you can come back to me and pay.”

Child: “Ummmm… I don’t…”

(Just then, a customer behind him speaks up.)

Customer: “I’ll give it to him.”

Me: “No. He does this all the time. We aren’t allowing other customers to pay anymore.”

Customer: “It’s just $2.”

Me: “Right, but he’s probably made $100 this month doing this same thing. We won’t allow any other customers to cover his groceries.” *turns to child* “You’ll need to go home and ask your mom what she wants you to do.”

(About 10 minutes later, the boy returns. I figure the boy has been pocketing the money, but it turns out he hasn’t.)

Child: “My mom said to get the money from another customer. She says they always give it to me, and why can’t I get someone to give it to me this time?”

This story is part of our Scammer roundup!

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(I am eating lunch in the lobby of my store, having a sandwich and a bag of chips, when a Spanish-speaking family walks in with a three-year-old boy. As they order, he walks a few feet over to me and points at my bag of chips. I don’t speak any Spanish.)

Little Boy: *pointing at my chips, saying something in Spanish*

Me: “Sorry, sweetie, these are mine. Maybe your mommy can get you some?”

(The little boy is pointing more furiously now, repeating a phrase I don’t understand.)

Me: “I’ll let you have some of mine if your mommy says it’s okay. I don’t want to give you anything you’re not allowed to have.”

(The little boy repeats the phrase again. This time, his teenage sister, standing in line, rushes over and pulls him away.)

Sister: “I’m so sorry!”

Me: “Oh, that’s okay! If it’s okay for him to have some he can—”

(By this point she has dragged the little boy to the other side of the store, where his parents are paying. I finish my break and go into the back to put away my purse and grab my apron. My Spanish-speaking coworker rushes over to me.)

Coworker: “Are you okay?”

Me: “Yeah, why?”

Coworker: “You didn’t hear what he was saying to you?”

Me: “I figured he wanted some of my chips.”

Coworker: “Yeah, then he started calling you a f****** a**-hole!”

(I’m waiting in line behind a woman who is speaking on her cellphone in another language. Ahead of her is a white man. After the woman hangs up, he speaks up.)

Man: “I didn’t want to say anything while you were on the phone, but you’re in America now. You need to speak English.”

Woman: “Excuse me?”

Man: *very slow* “If you want to speak Mexican, go back to Mexico. In America, we speak English.”

Woman: “Sir, I was speaking Navajo. If you want to speak English, go back to England.”

This story is part of our Native-American roundup.

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(My customer is a young high-school kid wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt, hemp necklace, torn jeans, and sandals. He usually comes to my checkout line because I don’t give him a hard time when he buys a ton of munchies with very red eyes. This time he looks surprisingly sober.)

Me: “Evening, pal, how’s it going?”

Customer: “Ugh, not so great.”

(He proceeds to put 16 cans of bug spray on the counter.)

Me: “Yikes, got a bug problem?”

Customer: “No, but my mom thinks we do. She doesn’t realize she accidentally ate one of my, uh, you know, special cookies, and I have to play along so she doesn’t figure out it’s not real.”

(Years later, I returned to the area to find him wearing a suit and tie as store manager!)