(I am manning the register soon after opening one morning. A customer makes a small purchase and offers a $100 bill to pay.)

Me: *politely* “Do you have a smaller bill, or would you like to pay with another form of payment? The change for this purchase would take a large portion of the paper money in the till.”

Customer: *smug* ” No, I want to break this bill; it is legal tender, you know.”

(I politely agree, and begin counting out fives and ones. This does not please the customer.)

Customer: “No! I want larger bills!”

Me: “I am sorry, sir; I do not have any larger bills. These are legal tender, you know.”

Customer: “Oh, never mind! I’ll pay with my credit card!”

(I politely informed him that he couldn’t do that, as the till was already open for a cash sale. The customer left, angrily stuffing the mass of bills into his wallet. I just smiled my best polite smile.)

(I’m a cashier. Our store closes at 8:00 pm and we give our customers reminders that our store is closing every five minutes from 7:45 to 8:00. We make sure we say our announcements loud and clear. By 8:10, I am finally checking out what I think will be my last customer of the night and my manager calls for a security count. A few minutes later a woman comes up with four items.)

Me: “Did you find everything okay today?”

Customer: “Yeah, thanks. So, I decided I don’t want these two items.”

Me: “Okay, no problem. Your total comes to [amount].”

Customer: *as she’s paying* “What time do y’all close?”

Me: “Uh, we closed at eight.”

Customer: “Oh, great! I made it just in time!”

(It was around 8:15 or 8:20 by then.)

(I always go to one particular local dry cleaner, because it’s run by an older lady with an amazing personality, and I often get into hilarious conversations with her when I drop off clothes. This is a story she relates to me about some of her other customers.)

Customer: *over the phone* “Yes, hello. How do I get this stain out of my shirt?”

Cleaner: “Well, if you bring the shirt in, I would be happy to clean it for you.”

Customer: “Oh, no, I don’t need you bring it in; it’s just the one stain, so you can just tell me how to clean it.”

Cleaner: *thinking, “that’s not how a dry cleaner works”* “Okay, I’ll try… What kind of fabric is the shirt?”

Customer: *impatient sigh* “It’s my favorite dress shirt!”

Cleaner: “Uh, okay… What kind of stain is it?”

Customer: “You’re supposed to be the expert, here! Why can’t you tell me anything?!”

Cleaner: “I just need to know—”

Customer: “No! I’m the one asking the questions, here! What is your problem?!”

Cleaner: “The problem is that I just don’t know how you expect me to see your shirt down the phone. Good luck with your stain!”

(After the release of a certain explicit movie based on a book, my cinema chain has cracked down on checking IDs to make sure we don’t receive fines for underage viewers. A group of teenage girls, who are clearly between 16 and 18, approach the counter. I know I have to ask them for ID, but because they are so excited and I need to get through a busy queue quickly, I internally decide that if just one of them can show me they’re over the age, then I will let the others slide.)

Me: “I’m going to need to see some ID before I can sell the tickets to you.”

Girl #1: *smug* “Well, I’ll show you mine, since I’m buying them.”

Me: “Sure, whatever.” *takes offered driving license*

Girl #1: “So, how much?”

Me: “Uh, this says you’re seventeen. I can’t let you in. Sorry.”

Girl #1: “What? Let me see that!”

(She snatches back her license and studies it. I watch as her eyes widen in understanding.)

Girl #2: “[Girl #1], what’s the problem? You said you’d make sure that we could get in.”

Girl #1: *in undertone* “S***, I gave the real one.” *to me in normal voice* “Hey, can I give you my other ID?”

Me: “You’re asking if you can give me your other ID that has a different age on it?”

Girl #1: “Yes!”

Me: “No. See you later.”

(Nice try!)

(An elderly woman walks in.)

Me: “Hello, ma’am. How can I help you today?”

Customer: “I want to read the Bible from my phone and my grandson told me to get it from the app store. Can you give me directions?”

Me: “Directions to what?”

Customer: “The app store. He didn’t tell me where it is, and I don’t know how to use my GPS.”

(I explained to her what the app store was. She walked away, embarrassed.)