Customer: “My God, you look so glum! Wouldn’t kill you to smile more!”

Me: “I am here to check out your items, sir. I don’t need to smile to do that.”

Customer: “Yeah, but pretty girls like you should smile more! Smile!”

Me: “Your total is $38.12, sir.”

Customer: “Smile more! Why aren’t you smiling?”

Me: “I don’t feel like it. Your total is $38.12.”

Customer: “Why aren’t you smiling?”

Me: “It’s the anniversary of my fiancé’s death. Your total is $38.12.”

Customer: *Pause* “…well, at least you weren’t married.”

A young-looking customer comes up to my manager’s counter with some beer.

Manager: “Can I see some ID?”

Customer: “Sure!”

My manager looks at the ID and then looks at it closer.

Manager: “I’m sorry, I can’t sell this to you.”

Customer: “I turn twenty-one in like, a few hours. What difference will it make?”

Manager: “A store I used to work at closed at ten at night. A young lady like you came in to buy a bottle of wine, just before closing. According to her ID, she turned twenty-one at midnight. That coworker talked to a manager, and they agreed to sell it to her since we wouldn’t be open at midnight. She walked out, and then cops walked back in with the wine and the receipt. They got fined and fired because the store got fined, too.”

Customer: “…oh.”

Manager: “So, yeah, that’s the difference it can make. Come back tomorrow.”

It is Sunday, about twenty minutes before closing. A woman comes rushing in, looking a bit frantic, and beelines straight toward me.

Customer: “I need [list of items we have either run out of or have in low supply].”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I think we only have about two of those items still in stock.”

Customer: “What?! But my kid needs it for his project at school tomorrow! Why are you sold out?!”

Me: “Because two hundred other kids from the same school are doing the exact same project.”

Customer: “But… why?! You should have more, then! Go check the back, you lazy bum!”

Me: “We don’t have any more, ma’am. I know because based on conversations with multiple parents, this particular project was assigned three weeks ago, and we assumed that, since the completed project itself is due tomorrow, any parent who would need these supplies would have purchased them ages ago so their kid would have time to make the project.”

Customer: “Are you implying I’m a bad parent?”

Me: “No, ma’am, I’m saying your child either told you late or you forgot until now, but either way, you’re taking that out on me. We do not have what you’re looking for, and we close soon. I wish you the best of luck!”

Customer: *Sarcastically* “Do you really?”

Me: “No… not really. Goodnight!”

I work at a pet store that does boarding, too. My family is going on vacation and boarding the family dogs. I get a call from my mom saying they aren’t letting Riley stay. I’m very confused, because I double-checked that they had all their shots and paperwork in order. I go over and ask what the problem is.

Front Desk Agent: “That’s a pit bull mix! You know we don’t board pit bulls! [My Name], you know better, and I’ve already called a manager over because your mother is arguing with me.”

Me: “Okay.”

I wait for the manager.

Manager: “What’s the problem?”

Front Desk Agent: “They’re trying to board a pit bull mix!”

Manager: “Are you talking about the lab?”

I pull out Riley’s six-generation AKC pedigree from his paperwork folder.

Me: “A pure-bred liver-nosed yellow English (show) Labrador retriever.”

Mom: “That’s what I kept telling her!”

[Front Desk Agent] had never seen an English (show) lab. They are tanks with bowling ball heads. She got taken off the desk for a while, my mom got a discounted stay, and apparently, Riley got to meet everyone so they could spot a pure-bred Labrador.

A customer comes up to the customer service desk where I process refunds.

Customer: *Angrily* “I bought this box of kid’s cough syrup, and it didn’t have a plastic seal on the bottle! Are you trying to murder my child?!”

Me: “That brand has stopped using plastic seals for environmental reasons. If you’re looking to return it for a refund, I will need the receipt.”

Customer: “I don’t have that!”

Me: “It’s store policy that all non-receipt returns are made out to a gift card.”

Customer: “Override it!”

Me: “It’s system-enforced; I don’t have a choice.”

Customer: “You’re murdering my child!”

Me: “Me specifically, or the company? Or that brand?”

Customer: “You! You are murdering my child by poisoning his medicine!”

Eventually, his wife stepped in to stop his screaming and asked for the refund on a gift card, which I happily gave. He then attempted to throw the receipt at me in anger. He didn’t even crumple it. He just threw a piece of flat paper at me at full force, which fluttered onto the desk between us.