(I work in a chain “fashion accessory” store in a local mall. I’m the only one on register because my coworkers are assisting other customers on the sales floor. As I’m counting out a customer’s change and passing her over her bag of purchases, the phone rings. Of course, I answer it.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store] in [Mall]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, ma’am, I mailed you a scarf for an exchange and I was wondering if you had received it.”

(At this point I am completely dumbfounded. It is clearly outlined in our policy that we do not take returns or exchanges unless the person and the items are present. I continue trying to help her, thinking she meant to call the distribution center to return an item ordered online.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry. The store does not accept returns or exchanges by mail. I think you meant to call our distribution center.”

Customer: “No, I mean to call you. I want to exchange my scarf. I put it in the mail with a note to call me when you have received it. I haven’t received a phone call. Have you received it?”

Me: “Ma’am, we don’t take returns by mail. I’m not sure what to tell you. ”

Customer: “I want to exchange my scarf. I put it in the mail.”

Me: “Ma’am, we don’t—”

Customer: *cuts me off* “You receive mail at your store, yes?”

Me: “Of course, ma’am.”

Customer: “Then have you received my scarf?”

Me: “Hold on for a moment and I’ll find out for you.”

(I put her on hold and call my manager on our walkie-talkie. He comes up to the register and I try to explain. My manager, who has little patience for this kind of thing, answers the phone during my hasty explanation. I continue helping customers and don’t hear the rest of the conversation, except snippets of him saying the same things I just told the customer on the phone. After about ten minutes of continuing to explain that we don’t accept returns by mail, he hangs up, and walks to the back office. To all of us, he says over the walkie:)

Manager: “If I find that woman’s scarf in the mail I’m gonna burn it. Urgh.”

(An older lady walks into the ER waiting room, where I am sitting at the front desk.)

Lady: “I have a strange request for you, young lady. I hope you can help me.”

Me: *thinking I’ve heard strange* “Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad, ma’am. How can I help you?”

Lady: “Well, see, I was here the other day and I left a pair of earrings here by accident.”

Me: “Oh, that’s no trouble!”

(I pick up the phone to call Security since we hand such items to our Lost and Found.)

Lady: *continuing* “Yes, they’re a small black pair of magnetic earrings. I left them on my wheelchair. ”

Me: *pauses, puts down the phone* “I’m sorry?”

Lady: “I put them on my wheelchair. See, I wasn’t feeling very well, I have vertigo, and I took them off and put them on the nearest metal item! My daughter remembered that, too.”

(At this point I’m thinking it’ll be a little harder to check, since we have about 100 or so wheelchairs on the hospital property and with patients currently using them, but I figure it’s only been a few days.)

Me: “Okay, and when was your visit, ma’am? You said a few days ago?”

Lady: “Well… actually it was a while ago. On [date three months earlier].”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, I will do my best but I have to warn you, the likelihood we’ll find them is slim after that long. But I’ll try.”

Lady: “Please do.”

(I call Security, who first asks me to repeat what I just asked for, then where the earrings might have been found, all while this lady keeps interrupting me and “helping” when I’m listening to their answers. After a few minutes they come up empty.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, we don’t have them in our Lost and Found. We can check the wheelchairs we have out here, but unfortunately I can’t go through every—”

Lady: *indignant* “Why can’t we check all the wheelchairs?”

Me: “Ma’am, we have over 100 wheelchairs! And by now the one you were in could be on the other side of the campus, or up on a floor. Some of them have patients in them. I’m sorry but this is the best I can do. Let me help you—”

(She storms over to the wheelchairs muttering under her breath, and I follow, dutifully checking all the metal for earrings. After I have finished under her supervision, she still checks them herself and — surprise — comes up empty.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, did you check your purse when you got home in case—”

Lady: “My daughter and I checked! And she distinctly remembers me leaving them here!” *she goes into a rant about how we aren’t being helpful at all*

(I am about to ask for her name and phone number so we can call in case we find them, but that is the last proverbial straw.)

Me: “Well, all I can say is, I’m sorry, ma’am. I hope you have a nice—”

Lady: *walks away, ignoring me*

Nurse: *pops her head around the corner* “Did that really just happen?”

(I have just recently started working at a local fast food restaurant as a summer job. I am not completely familiar with the register yet so I am a bit slow. There are two customers in line and I am the only one at the front counter. I am also a teenager, going from sophomore to junior.)

Customer #1: “Hello, I’d like a [Burger].”

(I begin ringing them up but am having some difficulty; it takes a bit longer than it should do.)

Me: “Sorry for the wait, ma’am. I’m still new here and getting a hang of things. I hope you aren’t in any hurry.”

Customer #2: “Well, it’s about god-d*** time! I’ve been waiting here for forever!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am; I’ll try to do better on your order.”

Customer #2: “No! I want someone competent! Get someone older!”

(I find a more experienced worker, only one year older than me but much older looking. We also know each other from school.)

Coworker: “Hello, ma’am, how can I help you?”

Customer #2: “Finally someone around here who can do their job. These f****** teenagers are so useless; I bet he’s only working here to fuel his drug abuse or something.”

(My coworker rings her up and gets her order for her.)

Customer #2: “Thank you. Now, you ought to go tell your manager to stop hiring these useless little morons.”

Coworker: “I’ll make sure to do that; I’m sure he’ll be perfectly happy to fire half the staff, including the assistant manager.”

Customer #2: “Humph!”

(She stormed out of the store and forgot her food.)

(While trying to help a customer decide on a drink, she mentions that she’s on a diet because her doctor said to, and wants something healthy.)

Me: “I’d suggest getting a juice. The Tahiti Squeeze is my personal favourite. It’s got apple juice, orange juice, and strawberries.

Customer: “What do you do with it?”

Me: “We cut up apples, we cut up oranges, we juice both of those, and then we add some strawberries.”

Customer: “And then what do you do with it?”

Me: “We blend it a little bit so the strawberries aren’t whole.”

Customer: “And then what do you do with it?”

Me: “We pour it in a cup?”

Customer: “It’s not going to spill while I’m walking, will it?”

Me: “No, we put a lid on it.”

Customer: “How do I drink it?”

Me: “With a straw?”

Customer: “Okay, I’ll get that!”

(Overall her transaction took five minutes. We only have one cash, so there was quite the line up by the time she finally decided.)

(I work as a cashier at a local gas station. A few hours ago, I had rung up a girl in a Batman costume, and now I’m ringing up another customer in a Batman shirt.)

Me: *joking* “Huh, I didn’t know there were two Batmans running around Gotham.”

Customer: *playing along* “Nope, there’s only one Batman, and that is me.”

Me: “Oh, gosh, I wonder who that last Batman was then. Hope it isn’t the Joker.”

Customer: *looks around mock-seriously* “Which way did he go?!”

Me: “Actually, it was a she. It could have been Harley.”

Customer: “I’ll keep my eye out for her. Thank you.”

(He left with his bags after I finished up. When he got out the door, I heard him exclaim “To the Batmobile!” and I just lost it. That guy made my day!)