(A man walks in, really frustrated.)

Man: “Do ANY of your fuel pumps work?”

Me: *stares at the other people outside using them, plus my screen which shows all green* “Um. Yes. All of them. Which one are you on?”

Man: “I’m on ten!”

Me: “Ten is operative.”

Man: “My wife just came in and it’s not working!”

Me: “Did she pre-pay?”

Man: “No!”

(Unsure of why it was then relevant to mention it, I relent.)

Me: “Well, sir, I’ll come out and we’ll see why it’s not working for you!”

Man: “Good!”

(We walk out and he lifts the nozzle, selects the grade, and tries to pump.)

Man: “See! It’s BROKEN!”

Me: “Actually, sir, you didn’t scan your loyalty card. See the screen? It says to scan it, first.”

Man: “WHY?!”

Me: “It’s part of the process.”

Man: “This is RIDICULOUS! So how do I pump fuel?! I don’t have one of these cards!”

Me: “Well, you can come inside and prepay.”

Man: “This is stupid! You don’t even SAVE anything on your gas! ”

Me: “Sir, you save at least $0.03 a gallon with the card or $0.10 for every $50 you spend in our store.”

Man: “Uh. I’m an INTERNATIONAL BUSINESSMAN! I know these things and yeah, that is just a FLUKE! You don’t save anything!”

(Never mind what he said made no sense. We get inside to pay.)

Me: “So how much do you want to prepay?”

Man: “Six dollars. Where do I BUY one of those cards anyway?”

Me: “They are free at customer service across the lot at our main store.”

Man: “Yeah. I’m not doing that.”

Me: “Here, I will scan this courtesy card so you’ll save $0.03 off per gallon anyway.”

Man: “Why do you have to scan that card first anyway?”

Me: “Because if we didn’t, people could pump gas and drive off without paying and we have no way of finding them. With the card, if anyone drives off, we have their address and number and we can find them and collect.”

Man: “Oh.”

(And I ring him up and hand him his receipt.)

Man: “Yeah. I’ll pump that six dollars and put the rest of my gas on my credit card.”

(The man walked out and I burst out laughing. After six dollars, he was back to square one, got angry, and drove off.)

(I work in a dollar store. Literally every single item in the store costs one dollar. It is generally a pretty easy concept, at least in the US, as dollar stores are everywhere. A woman comes in to the store and starts filling her cart with everything in sight. In less than five minutes she has a full cart, and she leaves it up front and grabs a second one to fill up. When the second cart is full she gets a third and fills it, and then she approaches me at the register with all the carts. I start to try and scan the items and she stops me.)

Customer: “You don’t need to bag these. I can just take these out in the carts. Here.” *hands me a single dollar bill*

Me: “Ma’am, I have to scan the items so I can charge you the correct amount. It looks like you have several hundred items here so that’s going to cost a lot more than one dollar.”

Customer: “Wait, what? I thought this was a dollar store. Everything I get is one dollar!”

Me: “Uh… no, ma’am. Each single item costs one dollar. It’s not ‘take as much as you want’ for one dollar. If it was, the store wouldn’t make any money.”

Customer: “What the h***?! Your sign says ‘everything for one dollar,’ DOES IT NOT?”

Me: “Yes. Every item costs one dollar. That’s what the sign is referring to.”

Customer: “Well, thanks for wasting my time! I’m gonna report you for false advertising!”

(She then ran out of the store leaving her three full carts behind. It took me and my coworker a full two hours to put everything back on the correct places on the shelves. She had 337 items. I could maybe understand her confusion if she wasn’t from the US or had never heard of a dollar store, but she had a local accent so I have no idea.)

(A customer has just purchased some material.)

Customer: “Okay, I will pick it up Friday.”

Me: “Sounds great.”

Customer: “You close at five?”

Me: “Yes, we close at five on Friday.”

Customer: “And if I come at six?”

Me: “…no one will be here?”

(Cue crestfallen face from customer.)

Customer: “Oh.”

Client: “Say, you did a fine job massaging my wife. Do you mind taking a look at my horse? She’s been limping a spell.”

Me: “Thanks, I… What did you just say?”

(My job is to screen ride photos at a famous space ride. I typically see a lot of vulgar hand gestures and boobs. Surprisingly, a lot of boobs. We screen them so they can’t be seen by guests and are unsellable. A woman and three men come to the ride photo booth to pick up their photo and are displeased when it is censored and they can’t see it. Unsurprisingly, they are drunk or getting there at least.)

Ride Photo Attendant: “I’m sorry, we can’t show them to you.”

Women: “Just for a second.”

Ride Photo Attendant: “No, sorry.”

(The woman and one man go to the washroom and another man, not from their party, comes up to the front.)

Other Man: “Can I buy that photo?”

Ride Photo Attendant: “Do you know that woman?”

Other Man: “No, but my wife and I are having trouble getting it on here with all these kids around and I need something to stimulate IT with, if you know what I mean.”

(The ride photo attendant did know what they meant, as did the security guard who escorted him out.)