It is the week before Christmas, which also happens to be the week of my birthday, and I decide to buy a box of chocolates for my husband from a particular up-market chocolate retailer. This shop has a loyalty scheme which I found out about a few years back. The biggest draw of the loyalty scheme is that you get a free box of chocolates with another purchase within thirty-six hours of your birthday, so I now ensure that at least one Christmas gift comes from there, and I get an extra box as a personal treat.

I originally signed up for the loyalty scheme during the global health crisis and was told that they couldn’t hand me a physical loyalty card, but each time I come in, I should give my address at the cash point and they will find my account, add any loyalty points, and ensure that I am given any free gifts. I’ve done this every time since, no cashier has ever questioned it, and it has never occurred to me that there might be an easier way to do things.

On this occasion, being so close to Christmas, there is a long line for the cash points. While I’m waiting, I hear customers over and over being asked if they have a loyalty card and the majority then giving postal code details for an address search. I then become aware that the cashiers are asking for either a loyalty card or the mobile app, and I pretty much facepalm in the middle of the shop, realising that, OF COURSE, they must have an app and it will be so much easier for me to flash a virtual card. I get out my phone and try to register my details, failing to complete the task before I am called forward.

It’s also important to note that the birthday chocolates are chosen from a selection at the registers, so there’s nothing in my hands apart from the box for my husband and no indication that I’m looking for a free gift. Also, in case it’s relevant, I’m thirty-seven and the cashier is in her early twenties.

Cashier: “Do you have our loyalty card?”

Me: “Actually, I do have an account, and I’ve just been trying to get signed up on the app. Usually, I have to do an address look-up, but I wanted to make things easier for you guys—”

The cashier interrupts me in a singsong voice.

Cashier: “We don’t do address look-ups; you have to show us a physical card or virtual card on the app.”

Me: “Oh, but…”

I gesture to the cash desk next to me where her colleague is clearly taking postcode details from another customer.

Me: “Are you sure? I mean…”

Cashier: *In the same sickly-sweet voice* “You know, apps really are important in life. You can’t just ignore technology. You really should learn to use them.”

I’m torn between really looking forward to my free chocolate but also wanting to avoid confrontation and get out of the situation.

Me: “I’m sorry, I do use apps, I didn’t realise you had this option, and I have always done things differently here, but I guess that’s not important. Don’t worry about it for today. Please just ring up these chocolates, and I’ll get myself sorted for next time.”

The cashier rings up my husband’s chocolates and takes my payment, but then, rather than handing me the box, she keeps holding it and continues to say:

Cashier: “Just for reference, if you had signed up on the app, you would automatically have the virtual card loaded on your phone, so your story makes no sense. Please don’t treat retail workers like we are stupid.”

Me: “Oh, no, I didn’t. I mean, I would never. The whole time, I was trying to make things easier. Also, I’ve never used the app before. I first signed up in the shop at the register, and—”

Cashier: “In which case, we would have given you a card immediately. Again, you are treating me like I’m stupid. You’ve obviously lost your card.”

Me: *Close to tears* “It was during the [health crisis] when physical cards were not being given. Again, I’m sorry this has all been taken the wrong way, but I can see that it’s really busy today, and I don’t want to add to your stress. Please give me my purchase, and I’ll get out your way.”

As I walked out of the shop, I heard her and her colleague burst out laughing. Honestly, if I inadvertently did something wrong and confused the cashier, I’m sorry about that, but it did feel like she was having a bad day and decided that I was in the wrong from the outset, or possibly she and her colleagues had decided to mess with a random customer. Why else would she insist on not doing an address look-up when others were happening right next to me?

I also wonder what would have happened if I’d said I had the app but my phone was broken or something. Anyway, I didn’t get my birthday chocolates this year, and I hope my husband shares his!

My dad owns a small candy store in a small town. I work there part-time to make some money while I’m at school. There is no such thing as corporate, which means he is completely at liberty to refuse service to someone who’s acting entitled, exhibiting bigotry, or generally just being an a**.

My favourite demonstration from him happened when I was working the counter. A woman stepped in, saw me (a teenage boy) working the counter, and started asking for a discount while making very suggestive comments and motions that I’m not comfortable recounting in detail.

My dad overheard from the back room, emerged in a rage, and told this woman to f*** off.

Woman: “You can’t do this to me! I’m a paying customer!”

Dad: “No, you’re not. You’re an a**hole causing trouble with my employee, and he does not get paid to put up with your bulls***.”

Woman: “I’ve spent—”

Dad: “I don’t care how many times you’ve been here, or how much money you think you’ve spent here. If you’re in here right now, that’s because we have something you want. That means I’m the one in power.”

The woman stormed out, and my dad told me to grab a snack and take five.

I’m working at a candy store that gives out free samples. The location of this store means that there are gaggles of teenagers and kids lurking about, and a lot of them get the free sample, maybe buy one single item, hang out for a couple of minutes to chat with their friends, and then leave.

One particularly busy Friday night (I think there was a movie release), the store is SWAMPED. I mean, you can barely move, even behind the counter, because of all the people in the store.

There is finally a break. I’m breathing normally for a moment when I glance down at the counter in front of me to see if it needs to be wiped down. I just served a group of preteen boys, and one of them has left his mobile phone on the counter.

Mind you, it is a black phone, about five inches long, on an almost pristine white counter. How do you forget a GIANT BLACK PHONE on a WIDE WHITE COUNTER? I tell my manager, and put it on the counter behind me. I wipe down the counter, and wait for the next wave of customers.

The boys don’t come back. It’s been about half an hour, and I’m concerned. We get another break in customers, and I glance at the phone. It’s ringing, and the caller ID says “Mom.” I tell my manager I’m going to answer it, and I walk out of the store for a second to do so.

I answer it, and I am met with the voice of a woman who is fed up with her child.

Woman: “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! I’VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU FOR AN HOUR! YOU NEED TO PICK UP YOUR PHONE—”

Me: “Ma’am, ma’am! I’m so sorry, my name is [My Name]. I work at [Store]. Your son left his phone in our store.”

There is a moment where I swear I can hear the gears in her head turning.

Woman: “Well! He’s going to lose his privileges over this one!”

Me: “Ma’am, he was with a group of other boys. Do you know any of them? Do you know their phone numbers?”

Woman: “He’s with his friends. No, I don’t know who they are, nor do I know their phone numbers. Wait! My daughter is there with her friends, too. I’ll let her know, and she’ll pick up the phone. Would that work?”

Me: “That’s just fine, ma’am. We’ll have the phone here waiting for her. What does she look like?”

Woman: “She has red hair; she looks just like him.”

Me: “…that’s fine. I’ll have the phone here.”

Woman: “Oh, thank you, thank you!”

We hang up, and I put the phone back on the counter. I’m wondering because of her tone if this isn’t the first time this has happened. I shrug and go back to the waves of teenagers.

About twenty minutes later, a teenage girl with reddish hair walks in with her friends. She’s smirking, and her friends are giggling.

Girl: “Hi! I’m here to pick up my brother’s phone?”

Me: “Oh, yes, you’re the sister. Here you go. Does this happen often?”

Girl: “Thanks. Yep, that’s the fourth time he’s left his phone somewhere.”

Me: “Oh, jeez. Well, there go his privileges?”

Girl: *Rolling her eyes* “Yeah, my parents always say that. He’ll be grounded for a week, and that’s about it. Thanks!”

And with that, they flounced out of the store. I hope the boy didn’t get into too much trouble, and hopefully, he learned his lesson!

When my sister and I were little, our favorite store at the mall was one of those places with lots of little bins of candy where, after making your own mixed bag, you paid by weight.

One day, we were standing outside the candy store, which had glass walls, when we witnessed a small boy digging fervently inside his nose with his finger. We watched in horror, unsure if he knew that people could see through solid glass… and then he opened a candy bin, reached inside, and used the hand with the picking finger to squish all of the gummy worms. He then withdrew his hand and went about his business.

I wish I could say my sister and I learned not to patronize that store. But I think we probably only avoided the gummy worms, and only on that particular day. We assumed the best.

I like to tease kids and tell them that their candy costs a million dollars. I ask them if they have that much and then “lower” the price until I reach the accurate price. Most kids will say no, they don’t have a million dollars, but every now and then, they’ll say that they do; it’s just at home or their parents have it. One little boy in particular sticks out, though.

Me: “Do you have a million dollars?”

Boy: “Not yet.”

I chuckle as I look at his father.

Me: “Ambitious!” *To the boy* “And when will you have it?”

Boy: “When I’m five.”

Me: *Cracking up* “Very ambitious!”