(I’m training as a cashier. It’s my first week at a major grocery chain, and a nice little old lady is next in line. She only has two apples in her hands.)

Me: *cheerily* “Would like a small bag for your items?”

Old Lady: “Yes, but first, I’d like to decide which of the two apples to buy.”

(I open a small paper sandwich bag for her and wait while she turns the apples over and considers. Before I know what happens, she takes a bite of the first apple. I’m certain this is the only time I’ve ever literally had my jaw drop. She chews thoughtfully for a second and THEN takes a bite of the other apple and chews that bite thoughtfully. I’ve recovered by this point and she waves the first apple at me:)

Old Lady: “I’ll take this one!”

(We sell apples by the weight. Technically that’s stealing but oh well, what can you do? But how do I ring up these apples now, they are, for lack of a better word, “open” and I feel that putting them on the register scale or touching them would be unhygienic and probably unappreciated by her, the manager, and the following customers. As this all flies through my brain I look over at my trainer hopefully and he sighs:)

Trainer: “Just give it to her.”

(I held out the open bag and explained with a smile that the apples were on us today, which she understood pretty quickly, happily plopped her apples into bag, and walked out. It has been six months and luckily no one else has taste tested their produce in line.)

(I work at IKEA. Today I’m at the small food counter near the registers when a woman makes a fuss about us having run out of fish sandwiches. Behind her in line is a regular who is also the son of one of our senior workers. After a two or three-minute rant, he rolls his eyes and addresses her:)

Regular: “They sold out. Throwing a tantrum isn’t going to magically make pan-fried fish fall from the sky onto your sandwich.”

Woman: “What do you think you’re doing? Mind your own business!”

Regular: “This is my business. I’m here for a hot dog and you’re in my way; move along, please.”

(This woman sees the queue agree. She stomps off to a recently installed little machine with smiley faced buttons. The idea is to press the button corresponding with your experience. She begins repeatedly mashing the frowny-face.)

Regular: *orders his hot dog and calmly walks over to the machine, grabbing some mustard on the way while silently counting the number of times the woman mashed the button*

Woman: “What do you want now?”

Regular: *eats his hot dog in silence until she turns to leave, then he steps to the machine and starts pressing the smiley-face* “You hit it 37 times? Let’s top that score. 1, 2, 3, 4…”

Woman: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Regular: “8, 9, 10, pressing buttons, 11, 12…”

Woman: “Stop that! I am leaving a negative review! You can’t make it positive again!”

(By now the regular’s mother has shown up, as the manager has been so busy.)

Regular: “19, 20, 21…”

Regular’s Mom: *takes a look at her son, having heard the short version from my coworker who paged for her and connecting the dots* “I’ll call a manager.”

(She runs into the backroom of the food counter. Barely containing her laughter, she pages the manager, who shows up surprisingly soon.)

Manager: “What’s the issue, ma’am?”

Regular: “54, 55, 56…”

Woman: “He’s removing my angry points! You didn’t want to give me fish and I left a bad review and he’s removing it!

(There is a small crowd forming to take a look at the show — and buying more hot dogs and drinks to enjoy while they’re at it.)

Manager: *also having trouble containing his amusement* “Well, ma’am, I can only apologize. We’re out of fish, and just like we can’t stop you from leaving negative reviews, I can’t stop him from leaving positive ones.”

Woman: “Fine! When he leaves, I’ll just push the angry face more!”

Regular: *waves his mother over* “Hey, mom, can I have a few more hot dogs and a drink? I’ll be here until closing, 78, 79, 80…”

Woman: *leaves, screeching* “You’re all in on it. You’re all against me!”

Regular: “83, 84…”

(I work at a theme park in the middle of theme-park-land Florida. It’s a popular park that people come from all over to visit. It is not owned by the mouse, but his guests come visit us too often. Like the other popular park, we offer to send your purchases to either the front of the park or your hotel, as long as you’re staying on our property, for free. Today this happened between a guest and my coworker while trying to explain how this works.)

Guest: “I’d like to send this to my hotel.”

Coworker: “Certainly. Are you checking out tomorrow?”

Guest: “No.”

Coworker: “All right. Which hotel is it?”

Guest: *Hotel in Other Theme Park*

Coworker: “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s in [Other Theme Park]. I can’t send it there. I can send it to the front for you to pick up on your way out, though.”

Guest: “What do you mean you can’t ship it to my hotel?! You offer free hotel shipping.”

Coworker: “Yes, we offer free shipping to hotels on [Theme Park] property.”

Guest: “But why does that matter? Just send it.”

Coworker: “I can’t, ma’am. I’m sorry. We’re different companies and my register doesn’t even have the option to send there.”

Guest: “But why can’t you send it?! You offer free hotel shipping!”

Coworker: “To hotels on our property. I can’t send it to another company’s hotel.”

Guest’s Daughter: “I told you they were different companies and couldn’t do it.”

Guest: “Whatever. I’ll just take it.”

Coworker: “Okay, that’s going to be [total].”

Guest: *hands over gift card for [Other Theme Park]*

(Needless to say the conversation started all over again about why we couldn’t accept a gift card for another theme park.)

(The store where I work has a membership card which allows you to take advantage of our special offers. It’s Christmas, and we’re having a special sale with 25% off the entire purchase if you have the club card with you, or sign up as a member at the checkout. It’s been a stressful day and the queue is stretching out almost over the entire shop. A man comes up to the till with an entire shopping cart full of clothes.)

Me: “Hello, welcome to [Store]! Do you have a club card?”

Man: *in a very condescending tone* “Ha! No, I do not! Those are for women.”

Me: “Oh… right. You do know that, with the club card, you get 25% off your entire purchase? You’re buying quite a lot of stuff. It would save you a lot of money.”

Man: “D*** it, hussy, does it look like I’m wearing a skirt? Give me the full price, thank you very much; I’m a god-d*** man!”

Me: *mumbling under my breath* “…or god-d*** stupid.”

Man: “What was that now?”

Me: *smiling politely* “Here’s your receipt. Thank you for shopping at [Store] and welcome back!”

(A few days later he came back with his wife, who forced him to use the club card. I was so much more amused than he was.)

(I work as a cashier for the summer. I AM fairly new, while my coworkers have been working for a while. It’s a slow Sunday, and a man in his sixties comes into our store. He struggles a while with the bottle deposit machine.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Man: “It won’t take my bottle.”

Me: “Let me see.”

(I check the bottle, to find that he’s removed the bar code. The machine won’t take it without that. I’m about to tell him as much, but he walks away to do his shopping. I shrug and go back to the checkout.)

Coworker: “He’s trouble.”

Me: “Really? He looks so harmless.”

Coworker: “Maybe, but he constantly tries to provoke us. Just try to stay calm and deal with him quickly.”

(About 10 minutes later, he approaches me.)

Man: “The price on this cake is wrong.”

(He’s holding up a pretty standard, small chocolate cake.)

Me: “Okay? Do you want me to check the price in the registry?”

Man: “Yes.”

Me: *scans the cake* “It says 45 kr.” *about 6 USD*

Man: “See? It’s wrong!”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Man: “It doesn’t weigh 1 kg.”

Me: “No, it feels much lighter.”

Man: “Then the price is wrong.”

Me: “How is it wrong?”

Man: “It doesn’t weigh 1 kg!”

Me: “Do you want me to weigh it for you?”

Man: “Yes!”

(I weigh the cake.)

Me: “It weighs 300g.”

Man: “You see? It doesn’t weigh 1 kg!”

Me: “Yes, I understand that, but how is the price wrong?”

Man: “It costs 45 kr for a kg!”

Me: *hesitantly* “I don’t think that’s quite right.”

Man: “And it doesn’t weigh 1 kg!”

Me: “No, it weighs 300g, but it’s a set price. That cake costs 45 kr.”

(Another customer has started putting his groceries on the belt while we’re talking. The man with the cake turns to him.)

Man: “Feel this.” *hands him the cake* “It doesn’t feel like it weighs 1 kg, does it?”

Me: *politely, before the clearly uncomfortable man can say anything* “No, it weighs 300g.”

Man: *scowls and heads back into the store*

Customer: “Does that happen often?”

Me: “I hope not.”

(When I checked him out later, he didn’t really say much. I didn’t have any trouble with him for the rest of my time working there.)