My store has a very strict alcohol policy: no valid ID, no sale. It’s a relatively new policy, so when customers get annoyed, I tell them the truth: Rip van Winkle himself could be in my line and I’d still have to card him.

Enter these two. A husband and wife come through the self-checkout with a bunch of groceries and two kinds of beer.

Me: “Could I see your ID, please?”

Husband: “Sure.”

I take the ID and scan it on the self-checkout machine. It throws up an error message.

Me: “I’m sorry; it looks like it’s expired. Do you have any renewal paperwork with you?”

Husband: “No! When did it expire?”

Wife: “Honey, your birthday was yesterday.”

People will occasionally come in with voided IDs, but if they have the ID and renewal paperwork with them, I’ll usually let it slide and enter the birthdate manually. Since he clearly has no valid ID or the paperwork to prove he’s in limbo, I switch tactics.

Me: “Miss, do you have your ID?”

Wife: “Oh… I left it in the car.”

In the end, I had to confiscate their beer while the husband muttered about being fifty-two years old.

Here I am, working a Saturday evening shift at a card and gift store. As anyone that’s worked in a place like this can tell you, a good 50% of the customers are clearly en-route to the event they’re buying the card for, and a good 50% of those people think that their lack of planning is your problem.

I’m in the middle of assisting a customer when I see a very expensive car pull up and park in the fire lane outside the store. A man in a very expensive suit gets out of the car and walks in. Upon entering, he heads to the back without breaking stride and shouts:

Customer: “WEDDING CARDS?”

I don’t think he even saw me; he just figured that since he’s the most important person in the world, there must be someone at his beck and call.

I’m mid-sentence with my customer, so I finish it before addressing the man. Before I can, he actually uses a little effort to find the clearly-labeled cards himself, which he politely informs me of with a:

Customer: “GOT IT!”

About four seconds later, he arrived at the counter, having obviously picked out the first card he saw. Maintaining volume, he respectfully requested to borrow a pen to fill out the card while he was in the process of reaching over the counter to grab one from my pen cup.

While he was filling it out, as I rang up my next customer around the space he was taking up on my counter, I looked down and noticed that he has addressed the card to at least one male name. I also noticed that he had picked out the one wedding card we sell that is unambiguously for a lesbian couple.

I saw no reason to trouble him with that information.

I work at a toy store, and, as you’d expect, I interact with a /lot/ of kids. I’m usually manning the register, and am usually a kid’s first “spending their own money” experience, so I tend to up my patience/friendliness just for these instances.  

One day, I check out a little boy who is around five or six. I had answered a boatload of questions for him while he shopped; once I gave him his change, he plucked out a quarter and slid it across the counter.

Boy: “And that… is for you.”

Me: “Oh, no, bud, this is your change! You get to keep it!”

He threw his hands up and stepped back from the counter.

Boy: “No, it’s yours! I’m tipping you! Mom, I’m tipping her!”

Mom shrugs apologetically at me.

Me: “Are you absolutely sure? You can put this towards your next visit.”

He started to walk towards the door and called back over his shoulder.

Boy: “You’re welcome!”

It was the best gumball of my career.

I’m a preschool teacher. The director of my center recently gave all the teachers and aides blue T-shirts with the center’s name and logo on the front and told us from now on, every Wednesday, we were to wear these shirts.

This happened on one of these Wednesdays. It was June 30th, 2021, and I had just gotten off of work. I decided to walk to my local [Retail Chain] — about a forty-five-minute walk in the opposite direction of my home — and pick up some supplies I knew I would need for my Fourth of July camping trip. I’ve gone on this camping trip every single Fourth of July weekend since I was born, and since we moved in February, some of our camping supplies were missing, so I knew exactly what I needed to get.

Here is where I should point out that the shade of blue on my work shirt was the exact same shade of blue that [Retail Chain] has their employees wear. I didn’t have that bright yellow vest some of them will have, but I did have on that blue shirt.

I made it to [Retail Chain] and headed to the outdoor sports section, cart in hand. I loaded my cart with a small tent for my son, a large instant canopy, a cooler, and some other small supplies. As I was loading my cart, I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I didn’t look, but I instantly moved my cart thinking, “Oh, no! I must be in someone’s way!”

Oh, how wrong I was. I heard the throat clearing again, and this is when I looked up. Standing before me was a woman who looked like Barbie decided to go hunting for a day with zero hunting experience.

Me: “What do you need?”

Woman: “Excuse me?! Is that how you greet customers here, young lady?!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Woman: “Yeah, you should be! You’re not standing at the register like you should be! Instead, you’re walking around the aisles like you’re on a leisurely stroll!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m just doing some shopping.”

Woman: “Well, you can wait until after your shift is over. Now get over to the locked case. I need one of those BB guns for my baby.”

Me: “Listen, lady. I don’t know who the heck you think you are, but you need to back off.”

Woman: “How dare you?! You need to treat customers with some more respect! Especially your elders! Why are teenagers so disrespectful?”

Me: “LADY! One, I’m twenty-five! Two, respect is earned! You’ll get it when you give it! And three, do you see [Retail Chain] on my shirt? No? Then go f*** off! Now! I DON’T WORK HERE!”

Normally, I’m nonconfrontational, but after dealing with tiny hurricanes of snot all day, my whole body hurt and I was ready to check out and call for my cab.

The woman got a look on her face as if she’d just seen something terrifying and sped away.

This story is part of our Fourth-Of-July-themed roundup!

Want to read the next Fourth-Of-July-themed roundup story? Click here!

Want to read the Fourth-Of-July-themed roundup? Click here!

We currently have a sale on our beef.

Customer: “I want to buy this beef, but I want it to be fresh for the superbowl.”

Me: “Superbowl Sunday? That’s three months from now.”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Well, I guess you’d need to freeze it then.”

Customer: “Didn’t you hear me? I said I wanted it fresh! Freezing the meat doesn’t count!”

Me: “Well then I would recommend buying the beef a few days before the Superbowl.”

Customer: “But it’s on sale now.”

Me: “That’s right.”

Customer: “So I want to buy it now, but I need it to be fresh for the Superbowl.”

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am?”

Customer: “And why not?”

Me: “Because our beef is from Texas, not Chernobyl, ma’am.”