(It has been a very snowy day, and the pavements are dangerously slippery. I’m rounding up payment for a regular, but rather old and fragile customer, who has trouble walking.)

Customer: “Well, I hope it’s not too bad outside.”

Me: “You’re walking?”

Customer: “Yes, my children are out of town, and I do need my shopping done.”

Me: “My shift ends in about ten minutes, and I’m by car. If you want to wait for a bit, I can bring you home.”

(My boss overhears this.)

Boss: “Round up your shift; it’s quiet enough. You can go and bring her home immediately.”

(I take the customer home. One week later, the customer comes in with a home-made apple pie.)

Customer: “You went to the trouble of bringing me home, so I baked you this. Hope you enjoy it!”

(And we did!)

(It has snowed quite severely in our area so today. We are short on staff and no deliveries have been able to reach us.)

Customer: “You’ve run out of bread.”

Me: “Yes, I’m terribly sorry; there is no fresh bread. All I can do is recommend some of our pre-mixed bread flour. You just add water and bake.”

Customer: “I can’t believe you’ve run out of bread. I came here especially.”

Me: “Yes ma’am, I appreciate that, but our delivery lorry got stuck. I am sorry, but there’s very little I can do to assist you.”

Customer: “But you’re [supermarket]! You should never run out of bread.”

Me: “Ma’am, like I said, the roads are impassable. Our lorry couldn’t get here. I normally work at another store, but I couldn’t drive there today, so I am helping out here. Do you mind if I ask whether you walked or drove in?”

Customer: “Well, I walked of course. Have you seen the roads? It would be like driving on pure white death out there.”

Me: “Exactly.”

(I give her time to process this information, bearing in mind what I have said about the delivery drivers.)

Customer: *walks off, muttering* “…can’t believe [supermarket] has no bread!”

(I’m with my sister, shopping in the produce section of the supermarket, when a male customer approaches me. Note: I’m female with long hair.)

Male Customer: “You! Your hair’s too long!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Male Customer: “If you bought some scissors, I’d cut it for you.”

Me: “I… ah… No thank you.”

Male Customer: “Fine!”

(He then storms off towards the back of the store.)

My Sister: “What the f*** just happened?!”

(I’m standing in line at the ’12 items or less’ self-checkout behind a nice yet flustered older lady. My hands are full of stuff for my lunch—can of soup, loaf of bread, etc. A second woman comes up behind me with an over-flowing carriage; she’s way beyond 12 items.)

Older Woman: *reading from the screen* “Swipe card.”

(The older woman looks around, but misses the card reader in front of her.)

Me: “It’s right in front of you.”

Older Woman: “Where?” *continues to look all around*

Woman Behind Me: “Tsk.”

Me: “Just extend your arm straight ahead…”

(The older woman turns to face me and extends her hand, with credit card in hand, to me. I put my items down and point out the swipe area on the card reader in front of her. She’s finally able to finish her transaction; all this time, the woman behind me has been tapping her toes, shaking her head, etc. The older woman starts to leave with her purse still sitting on the counter.)

Me: “Ma’am, your purse.”

Older Woman: “Oh! Thank you. I wouldn’t have gotten far without that.” *takes her three items and leaves*

Woman Behind Me: “Some people just can’t follow directions.”

Me: “Like 12 items or less’?”

Woman Behind Me: *turns bright red*

(I stop in to my local superstore to pick up some dog treats. I decide to grab a soda for myself from the cooler. Just before I place my items on the counter, a man comes up to the line and starts talking to me.)

Customer: “Hey! Can I go in front of you?”

(I look at his full cart, and then at the two items in my hand.)

Customer: “I mean, since I have so much less stuff than you, it’ll just be much faster.”

(Again, I look at his full cart and at the TWO items in my hands. I pause for 30 seconds not fully understanding what’s going on before I finally respond. He seems kind of agitated and since I’m not in a hurry, and don’t want to cause an incident, I let him go in front of me.)

Me: “Sure, go ahead…”

(A few minutes later he’s finally done and I place my items on the counter. My total comes up to less than five bucks and I go to pay when I’m stopped by a woman who was in line behind both me and the man from earlier.)

Customer #2: “Please, let me pay for these.”

(I’m a bit shocked, and immediately protest, but the cashier cuts me off.)

Cashier: “Kid, I’m not letting you pay. That idiot insisted on skipping you, even though you CLEARLY have less items than he did, and you didn’t make any fuss about it. You deserve much more than just this. It’s people like you that make this soul sucking worthless job bearable.”