(I’m assisting an elderly lady who’s nice but very chatty. As I’m ringing her up, she suddenly asks:)

Customer: “So when is your baby due? Are you pregnant?”

Me: “Um… no, I’m not.”

(I am short and curvy, and wearing a wrap dress with an empire waist, which is a common maternity style; I figured that’s why she assumed that. The customer looks a little embarrassed, and I kindly change the topic. After she leaves, I go over to tell my two coworkers, and we all laugh about it.)

Me: “I hear this happens all the time to women in retail, but this is my first. Check that off the list! I’m kind of reconsidering this dress, though.”

Coworker #1: “Oh, gosh, I was helping this lady in my line, and she fumbled and her hand kind of smacked against my stomach. I was about to tell her it was fine, but she freaked out and started yelling ‘Oh, no, I bumped the baby! Is the baby okay?!'”

(For the record, [Coworker #1] has no curves at all, and is very skinny.)

Me: “Seriously?!”

Coworker #1: “I didn’t really know what to say! I kind of joked that maybe I needed to go running after my shift, but the people in line behind her all told me after ‘Oh, no, you’re fine. You don’t need to do that.'”

Coworker #2: “Maybe they all thought you were pregnant and didn’t want you to run with the baby.”

Coworker #1: “Oh, God… I didn’t even think of that!”

(Free advice: even if it seems obvious to you that someone is pregnant, it’s best not to assume or bring it up. It prevents a lot of awkwardness in the long run.)

Customer: “How much is your hot chocolate?”

Me: *moving boxes* “It’s on the sign in front of you.”

(She looks at it while I put the boxes down. When I get to the register…)

Woman: “So how much is a hot chocolate?”

Me: *giving up* “Which size?”

Woman: *blank stare*

Me: “There’s small, medium, and large.”

Woman: “Umm, a small, I guess.”

(I make her hot chocolate and she pays.)

Woman: *as if noticing the sign for the first time* “Oh, it’s all right here. You really should tell customers about it. Saves you breathing on us.” *leaves*

(I am covering the shop for my mom while she has a doctor’s appointment. Her boss/friend is more than okay with that, and tells me if a customer is rude that I can give it right back to them. The shop is more of a side project so it isn’t a big deal. I am at the counter, tagging and folding some clothes that just got dropped off, when I hear the front door slam open.)

Woman: “There is a pile of dog-s*** out here and I stepped in it! My shoes are now ruined!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. Sadly, it happens quite frequently here.”

Woman: “I demand to be compensated! I can’t wear these now and they cost over $500 dollars! What are you going to do to make this right!?”

Me: “…I can sell you some shoes?”

(Cue angry screaming and door slamming closed. When I went out to lock up for the day, I saw the rather huge pile of dog poop on the ground. The woman had decided to wipe/rub her shoes against the entire front half of the shop. I told my boss. She just laughed.)

(A festival I am working at uses composting toilets. Commodes have been set up, with wheely bins below them to collect the waste. The crew that is running it, colloquially known as the “Poo Crew,” have set up this business and go from site to site, managing the waste. As we are packing down the festival, I get to chatting with one of the owners. He is telling me about a festival he had done outside of Sydney, with thousands of people over several days. People camping out there, or just visiting for the day. As you can imagine, there was a lot of work for the Poo Crew. One woman approached the Poo Crew manager stating she had lost her purse down the privy. Whilst it’s not pleasant, the Poo Crew do get up to their armpit in the waste, but it’s not something that they like to do for free. The owner asked the woman which privy she had used.)

Woman: “Oh, I’m not sure. It was two nights ago. Can you just try a couple of them?”

Owner: “Well, we’re composting down this site over the next couple of months. If your purse turns up we’ll call you.”

(I would have been tempted to ask her to go through the bins herself!)

(I am on a ladder putting up candy when I see two girls eating from the bulk bin below me. I warn them not to eat candy and direct them to where the bags are. I get called away by my manager and when I look back I see the girls eating candy from their bags.)

Me: “Guys, I already warned you once.”

Girl #1: “Okay, we’re f****** paying already.”

Me: “Let me help you at the front, then.”

(The unofficial rule at our store is if a customer is eating candy while in line, we add to their total weight to make them pay for it.)

Me: “I guess I’ll just add two for the candy you already ate. Do you have a [Store Card] for a discount?”

(They do and their candy comes up to $3.87 but they are upset that I added two grams. They demand to speak to my manager so I send a coworker to get her.)

Me: “Can you move over so I can help the rest of the line?”

Girl #1: “No.”

(However, my manager is, apparently, taking too long so they go to her. I finish with the line as they speak to my manager. I don’t know what they said but my manager brings them back to the front to call her supervisor. I don’t talk to the girls because I don’t want to make them angrier but they just rile themselves up anyway.)

Girl #2: “I’m going to rip your f****** limbs off, you minimum wage b****. I don’t know why you care so much for $11.25.”

(This isn’t what we make by the way. It is clear she’s never worked a minimum-wage job in her life.)

Me: “I’m going to get security. You cannot threaten me like that.”

(I get security but they just stand around and watch. My supervisor is unavailable so the girls take down my badge number and name and leave. After, I speak to the DM about what happened and he promises to back me up if the girls make a complaint.)

Coworker: “See, this is why I just let them steal!”

Me: “But if you just let them steal they’ll walk all over you!”

Coworker: “Eh, whatever. It’s not worth minimum wage.”