(Note that I am wearing a name tag with my name on it. At the top of our receipts, it says ‘Your Cashier Was’ and lists my name)
Customer: *looks at receipt* “Your name’s Footer? That’s a strange name.”
Me: “Uh, no. My name’s [name], like it says on my name tag. Why would you think my name was Footer?”
Customer: “Because this receipt says your name is Footer!”
Me: “May I see that?”
Customer: *hands me the receipt*
Me: “It has the right name here at the top.”
Customer: “No, down at the bottom.”
(I look at the bottom of the receipt. It says “Footer: Thank you for shopping at [store], have a nice day!)
(The shop I work in has a TV that plays the news 24/7. It has picked up a story about a judge ruling that the Obama health care bill was unconstitutional.)
Customer: “Well good! It is unconstitutional! You can’t force anyone to get health care if they don’t want it. This country is becoming too socialist! We don’t need any socialist programs!”
Me: *avoiding the topic* “Your total comes to [total].”
Customer: “Alright, here you go.”
(The customer hands me her food stamps card.)
(Customer #1 is slowly packing up her receipt, change, etc., while Customer #2, an elderly gentleman, is waiting patiently behind her.)
Customer #1: *noticing Customer #2* “Oh, I’m sorry I’m taking up so much of your time.”
Customer #2: “Oh, that’s okay. I’m just waiting to die.”
(I have psoriasis, a hereditary condition which leaves me with large red patches on my scalp. This occurs while I am waiting in line at a convenience store with a woman standing behind me.)
Customer: "What’s wrong with you?"
Me: "I beg your pardon?"
Customer: "Those ugly blotches all over your head. What do you have?"
Me: "Oh, it’s a highly contagious flesh eating disease. Very painful."
Customer: "Oh my gosh! Really? How contagious is it?"
Me: "Well, you probably already have it."
Customer: *rushes out of the store in a panic*
(An angry looking young couple storms into the convenience store.)
Man: “You sell cigarettes?”
Man: “You smoking b******!”
Me: “I don’t smoke. I’m not the one that picks out the–”
Woan: “That is f***ing illegal!”
Me: “No, actually, it’s not.”
(The woman pulls something out of her purse and writes a message on it. She slams it on the counter and she and her husband storm off. I look at it later and it is a picture of a Death Star. The message reads ‘This is coming to get you!’.)