I try to socialize and even joke with my customers a little, and I’ve gotten such positive feedback that one of the managers even takes me aside one day to tell me how impressed he is and how many good reviews customers are leaving for me.

Naturally, I’m delighted, and I do my best to continue encouraging customers to fill out the surveys at the bottom of their receipts. The surveys are one of the topics I like to joke about.

I’m ringing up a customer and her partner, and I hand her the receipt.

Me: “And there’s a survey at the bottom of the receipt that we’d appreciate if you’d fill out for us. Make sure to tell them I’m the worst person you’ve ever met, everything I said and did offended you, I’m just awful…”

Customer: *Deadpan* “And I’m pretty sure you’re a Nazi.”

Me: *Nodding* “Definitely tell them that.”

Usually, I just get a laugh or a phony scolding when I say that, but having a customer actually play along made my day.

I have a touch of Resting B**** Face and tend to be a bit scowly when focused on something, such as keeping up with my supervisors when we’re walking money from the registers to the office. When we clear out the garden registers, we pass by the Customer Service desk on the way back to the office.

On this particular day, one of the managers is also hanging out near the desk. [Coworker] starts laughing.

Coworker: “[My Name], you look like you’re about to punch somebody.”

Manager: “[My Name] always looks ready to throw down!”

Me: “Yeah, with you!”

Starting at that point, we begin “threatening” each other whenever we pass, with increasing severity on my end. However, I start to worry that I may be going too far, so after one joke, I step closer to him. 

Me: “Hey, [Manager], you’re still… cool with all the jokes, right?”

Manager: “Hm? Yeah, why?”

Me: “I dunno. It’s just been ramping up lately, and I just want to be sure I’m not crossing any sort of lines.”

Manager: *Comfortingly* “[My Name]… you know I don’t have feelings.”

I’m sitting outside at a coffee shop. The table next to mine is occupied by a woman about my age. We are the only customers on the patio. She walks up and stands next to my table, waving to get my attention because I have my headphones on.

Woman: “Excuse me. Do you have a pen I could use?”

Me: “Oh, no, I don’t have a pen, sorry.”

Woman: “Okay. Thank you!”

She goes back to her table. I quickly become engrossed in my work. Suddenly, a face is inches from mine. I jump. The woman is leaning over me, waving a pen. Her face and the pen are so close they are just blurs.

Woman: *Waves the pen in my face* “I found a pen!”

Me: “Oh! Great. Thank you.”

As she straightens, the pen scrapes against my forehead. She returns to her table. I am left wondering what just happened.

I decide right then and there that I am not staying outside with this woman, so I move my stuff to a table indoors. On my way in, I pass her table, and I realize she is staring right at me.

Me: “Did you need help with something?”

She stares. 

Me: “Hello?”

Woman: *Cups her hand to her ear* “Hmm? Sorry?”

Me: “Never mind.”

I got inside and didn’t look back. I checked my reflection in the restroom, but the pen had thankfully left only a tiny blue dot that I washed off easily.

I’m lounging around my register when a family of four — a father and three sons — approaches to purchase a few plants. One of the sons, who looks to be eight to ten years old, is softly going “ow” and studying his finger intently. Once the father has set all the plants on the counter and I begin ringing them up, he turns to his injured son.

Father: “You touched a cactus?”

Son: “Yeah.”

Father: “That’s the second time you’ve done that.”

Son: “Third.”

Father: “Well, I hope you learned your lesson this time.”

Son: *Thoughtfully* “No…”

I’m stationed in the outdoor/garden area of the store on a bright summer day. I’m pretty good with hot weather — usually. Today, I am not, so when I have a break between customers, I call my supervisor.

Supervisor: “Hey, [My Name], do you need something?”

Me: “Not really. I was just wondering if I could come inside. I’m not handling the heat as well as I usually do.”

Supervisor: “I’ll be right out with somebody to take your place.”

She arrives in less than five minutes with one of my coworkers behind her to swap out with me. [Coworker] and I wave to each other as I follow [Supervisor] back into the store.

Me: “So, where do you want me? Self-checkout, registers, lumber?”

Supervisor: “I want you in the break room for at least half an hour. If you still don’t feel well by then, let us know.”

Me: *Chuckling* “I’m just a little warm, [Supervisor].”

Fifteen minutes later, I was in the store bathroom throwing up. 

Once I had recovered enough to be sure it wouldn’t happen again — at least for a while — I told [Supervisor] that I was going home to actually rest and thanked her for letting me go. She gave me strict orders to pull over if I started feeling unwell while driving, and then she saw me off. 

Thank you, [Supervisor].