Customer: *dropping off film* “How long will this take?”

Me: “About an hour.”

Customer: “I’m in a hurry; can you make it 20 minutes?”

Me: “It takes at least 40 minutes to develop and print film, and that’s if I have nothing else going on.”

Customer: “So it can’t be done in 20 minutes?”

(My colleague is seven months pregnant. She’s quite petite so it’s obvious that she’s carrying a child, and most of the customers she’s helped out have noticed and congratulated her. It’s currently summer and our store can get quite hot, so our boss has allowed her to sit on a stool behind the checkout and have a small fan on her counter. I am working at the counter next to her when a customer approaches her.)

Customer: “There’s a product on the very top shelf that I need you to get down for me.”

Colleague: “Of course, ma’am. [My Name] will be happy to find a ladder and help you out with that.

Customer: “What?! How dare you try and just palm me off onto somebody else! Why can’t you just do it yourself?!”

Colleague: *gesturing to her bump* “Well, as you can see I shouldn’t really be climbing up on ladders in my current condition.”

Customer: “You lazy cow; what’s that supposed to mean?”

Colleague: “I’m sorry, but I can’t get up on a ladder because I’m preg—”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses. Clearly you think you’re in some sort of privileged position with your fan and stool behind the counter while your poor colleagues slave away in the heat. Go and find a ladder right now or I’ll call and complain to your manager.”

(Overhearing the entire conversation, I decide to step in.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but my colleague has been trying to tell you that she’s obviously quite pregnant and for medical reasons cannot put herself in a position where she risks a fall.”

(The customer looks at Colleague’s bump, the light bulb clearly switching on in her head.)

Customer: “It’s not very high up! She’s still supposed to be helping me. She should go and fetch it!”

Me: “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for the death of an unborn child, would you? Now, if you show me what you need from the top shelf I’ll happily get it down for you.”

(The customer glared at me and started barking orders. At least she left my poor colleague alone after that.)

(I am waiting for my friend to order a drink. After about 30 seconds he sits down with a large coffee in hand.)

Me: “That was quick!”

Friend: “I know, but it doesn’t taste right.”

(I look in the cup.)

Me: “It looks like regular black coffee.”

Friend: “I know, but I ordered a cappuccino. This doesn’t taste right.”

Me: “It says ‘Rach’ on the cup. It isn’t yours.”

Friend: “I know. It doesn’t taste right though.”

(Eventually his name was called and he picked up the drink he actually ordered. He continued to complain about Rach’s drink until he finished it, saying that, for a cappuccino, it didn’t taste right. I convinced him to leave a large tip in the jar on the front counter as we left, enough to cover the cost of Rach’s coffee. He didn’t understand why.)

Customer: “Do you have body bags?”

Me: “Umm… what?”

(The customer describes something like a poncho.)

Me: “A poncho?”

Customer: “NO! A BODYBAG.”

(The customer then flagged down someone of another ethnicity to help her, saying they would know what she meant. I still have no idea.)

(I work at a retail store as a manager, closing one night. As we get to closing time I get a call over our headset that a sound is coming from the fitting rooms. Since this particular location is on the more sketchy side I immediately call my security personnel (male) and head back to the fitting room. The ladies fitting room is set up in a way that it is a lot bigger than what we actually use, so half of it is partitioned off. This is made apparent with a rope blocking the back half of it, and all stalls beyond that point have no curtains up to block people’s view. It is not uncommon for people to go to this back half for illegal reasons. I go back there with my fitting room associate. The security personnel stays at the entrance since there are still other women in the fitting room. As I get there I can hear one of our alarm tags going off from farther down where this ‘customer’ is ‘changing.’ We both know she’s in trouble but she tries to play it off.)

Customer: “It fell off so I threw it back there!”

(I go to pick it up and it obviously has been cut off as there is a chunk of jean fabric still between the alarm tag and the pin. Going back to her I notice the pants she’s wearing has a big hole in the side. She finally realizes she’s caught not only trying to steal from us but damaging our product.)

Me: “Please hand me all our merchandise including the one you damaged.”

Customer: *sheepishly* “Okay I’ll bring them out to you.”

Me: “Don’t worry. I will be right here.”

(I don’t move as I watch her change. She hands me the pants she was wearing with the hole, the shirt she was ‘trying on’ that has a chunk cut out of it, another two pairs of pants with holes, and another shirt with a chunk cut off. Bundled up in one of the shirts she pulls out the scissors she used and puts into her very empty giant bag. (Something shoplifters do is come in with giant empty bags and leave with them filled.) She also hands me the hard tags and alarm tags she’s cut off the items she handed me, and the other clothes she hadn’t gotten to yet. After she gets dressed I walk her out of the fitting room, past her over-filled shopping cart which has more than clothes. My security personnel walks with me as I walk her out of the store.)

Me: “I shouldn’t need to say this, but I’m going to anyway. Don’t come back.”

Customer: *apologizes over and over again and leaves*

(Thankfully she only ruined the five items, which we now can’t sell, but with those and the many other items she was trying to steal it came to above $500 in merchandise. Fast forward to a few weeks later. It’s a closing shift again, and a girl comes in that I immediately recognize as a friend of the one I kicked out of the store. We know she also steals from us but as we haven’t been able to catch her. We try to keep an eye on her but there’s so few of us versus how many people come into the store and it’s busy, so we lose track of her and she leaves. A few hours later, near closing time, police officers come into our store. Turns out this girl got caught stealing from the store next to us and they called the police on her. When going through her bags they saw a pair of pricey shoes that still have an alarm tag on them, and a price tag that says our store name, obviously not bought. They walk me out to their car where she is sitting, crying and apologizing, saying she’s never done this before (a lie).)

Customer: *saying through sobs* “I’m so sorry; this isn’t like me. I never steal!”

Me: *leaning down to better see and speak to her* “Do not come back into our store again.”

(I then went back inside and continued with my closing shift.)