(I am a manager at a cell phone kiosk. It’s a slow day, and a middle-aged lady comes looking around the cord displays. After a few minutes of looking, she comes to my desk.)

Customer: “Can you help me?”

Me: “Sure! What do you need?”

Customer: “I need something.”

Me: “Yes?”

Customer: “I need a cable.”

(Long pause.)

Me: “For?”

Customer: “A cell phone.”

(Another long pause.)

Me: “Which cell phone?”

Customer: “The one that you call with?”

Me: “Yes, I know what it does, madam. Which make?”

Customer: “Apple.”

Me: “All right, what kind of cable do you need? Charging? To connect to the TV?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: *trying very hard not to scream* “I meant which one?”

Customer: “Stop badgering me with questions! Do you not understand what I wanted?”

(I need some minor, routine maintenance done on my DSLR camera, so I take it to a camera store near me. This store sells nothing but cameras and camera-related equipment, and is very clearly advertised as such.)

Employee: “Hi! How can I help you?”

Me: “Hi, do you do cleaning or maintenance here?”

Employee: “Before I answer that… You are talking about cameras, right?”

Me: “Yes. Yes, I am.”

(I can only imagine the kind of stupidity that made that question necessary.)

(I’m tidying up a particularly messy shelf when a customer comes up to me. He doesn’t announce himself or say, “Excuse me,” so he takes me by surprise.)

Customer: “Do you sell cassettes here?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir! I was in a world of my own! What is it you were looking for?”

Customer: “Cassettes. Do you sell them?”

Me: “No, sorry, sir. We don’t sell cassettes.”

Customer: *in a condescending tone* “Do you even know what they are?”

Me: “Yes, sir. I used them when I was growing up in the 90s. Used to use them to record my favourite songs off the radio. Unfortunately, not a lot of supermarkets sell them these days, but you could perhaps try charity shops or look online. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

(The man looked shocked; I obviously appear too young to even know what cassettes are!)

(I work in a grocery store where we’ve been charging ten cents per plastic bag for two years now, which started as a reaction to a ban on plastic bags that was passed in my county. There has been some confusion as to whether the bag ban was put on hold, so my company decides to continue charging for them, just in case. We had a lot of backlash from customers over it when we started the policy, but most people by now have heard about the policy and bring their own bags. Apparently, though, this customer has heard about it and has some definite opinions on it.)

Me: “That’ll be $12.00. Did you want a plastic bag? They’re ten cents each.”

Customer: *mutters something that sounds like “yeah”*

Me: “All right, that comes to $12.10.”

Customer: “Wait, did you charge me for a bag?”

Me: “Yes, you said, ‘Yeah,’ right?”

Customer: “No, I said, ‘Yeah, right!’” *starts raising his voice* “And you know it’s illegal to charge me for a bag, right?”

Me: “We’re doing it because of this law that passed in the county—”

Customer: *interrupts, and is shouting in my face at this point* “NO, it’s not a law; it was just a ban! You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

(I am completely taken aback at this grown man, who is shouting and looking at me in SUCH a hateful way as if he thinks that I, a minimum-wage earning cashier, personally came up with the idea of charging ten cents per bag. It feels like his anger is personally directed at me.)

Me: *confused* “You know that I didn’t come up with this bag rule, right?”

Customer: “Well, you said it was a law! You’re wrong! And I’m never coming back! So you can just tell your manager that!”

(He walked out, and I stood there stunned and visibly shaking as the next customer in the long line put their items down and said, “I think you handled that very well!” Everyone in line had been watching and listening to this man scream at me over a ten-cent bag that he didn’t even need to pay for. I know that no one is obligated to stand up for me but… I can’t help feeling a little disgusted that not one customer in that line of 15 people said a word in my defence. I’ve stood up for employees who were being yelled at over something ridiculous. It seems like the decent thing to do when you see someone verbally abusing a person who clearly can’t speak their mind because they have to keep their job.)

(I work in a thrift store. It’s the day before our driver goes out to people’s houses to pick up furniture, for those who don’t have the means to donate them directly. This means that we aren’t taking furniture donations, since we’re going to be massively full tomorrow, anyway. A lady drives up to the donation door with her truck, hauling a trailer with a piece of furniture in it. She has driven past our sandwich board declaring that we can’t take furniture right now, and has walked up to the door, with a sign that says we can’t take furniture, and rung the doorbell. Then she has stood in front of the door for the few seconds it has taken me to get to the door from the sorting table I was working at. I get to the door and take a deep breath to politely decline her item, and she cuts me off before I can get a word out.)

Woman: “So, what will you give me for this?”

Me: “Uh…”

Woman: “You are a retail establishment, correct?”

Me: “We are a non-profit thrift store, ma’am, and we take donations, which we then sell, yes. The money goes to the local animal shelter.”

Woman: “Yeah, yeah. So, how much will you give me for this?”

Me: *gives it a cursory glance* “Nothing.”

Woman: “Excuse me?”

Me: *shrugs at her* “For one thing, we do not buy anything from our donors, ma’am. People donate their things. You know–” *I add, as she looks entirely blank* “–they give them to us for free.”

(She looks blank, like I just started speaking an alien language. Realizing that she is no longer “poetry in motion” but rather “gibberish in neutral,” I try to continue to another point.)

Me: “For another, we’re not accepting any furniture right now, ma’am, so we can’t give you money for it, and we can’t even take it for free right now.”

Woman: *slowly, like the speed of the words are the problem, not the content* “I don’t think you understood what I’m asking. I’m asking you how much money would you give me for this.”

Me: “I cannot give you any money, ma’am. We cannot take furniture right now. We never buy things the way a pawn shop does, and we do not sell items for consignment.”

Woman: “What. Will. YOU! Give. Me. For This.”

Me: “Nothing. I don’t want that item, thanks. Neither does the store. Here’s a list of other businesses in the area. Try them.”

Woman: “I… Well… You… FINE!” *she jumps into her car and drives off*

(There’s a pawn shop about a mile down the road. I’ve been there. It does not have a drive-thru, either.)

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