(I am coming on my shift and my manager is leaving, but wants to show me his new car so we proceed outside. While we are discussing the car, a Cadillac pulls up in the far corner of the parking lot and just sits there for around thirty minutes as we talk about the car. I jokingly say “there is another drug deal going down.” My manager gets in his car and pulls up next to the Cadillac, then comes back to the door, gets out, and the both of us go inside.)

Me: “So what was he doing?”

Manager: “He was smoking a joint. He claims to be a guest here; I’m going to verify that.”

(We get to the desk and look up the room number. As we are doing this the guy walks in and stands by the desk.)

Guest: “So just because I am black and wearing a wife beater you assume that I was doing something illegal?”

Me: “Uh, what?”

Guest: “You’re racist, man! You assumed I was dealing drugs and doing illegal things cause I’m black!”

(I am a white male in my early twenties, and my manager is an older black guy.)

Me: “If you want to get technical about it, sir, you were doing something. Last time I checked pot is still illegal; correct me if I’m wrong. Instead of accusing me of being racist, you should be thankful that we haven’t gotten the cops involved in this matter.”

(He turned and walked away. He didn’t say a single word to me for the rest of his stay. Turns out you’re racist for catching someone smoking pot; who knew?)

(I am in line with my friend and have ordered myself a latte. The cashier turns to relay the order to the barista when a man arrives, tosses two dollars on the counter, grabs a small coffee cup, and heads over where the black coffee dispensers are without saying a word. The cashier turns back around and sees the money on the counter.)

Cashier: “Oh, honey, it’ll be more than $2.”

Me: “Actually, that’s not mine. That man over there just threw that down. I think he’s paying for a coffee?”

(We turn and watch as the man exits, still silent.)

Cashier: “…okayyy. Guess someone’s not getting their change today.”

(In our store, we are instructed to check any bill bigger than a $5 to see if it’s counterfeit. It takes about a second and people usually don’t care, but not everybody is so easygoing. This happens as I’m ringing out a customer who’s paying with a $10.)

Me: *checking the $10 bill*

Customer: *sneering, in the snottiest tone of voice I’ve ever heard* “Ugh. I can’t believe this. Who even checks tens?”

Me: *as I’m cashing her out* “People who have received counterfeit $10 bills in the past.”

Customer: *face falls; she then speaks with none of the snot in her previous statement* “Wait, really? You really get fake tens?”

Me: “Just last week, in fact.”

Customer: *sounding surprised, and somewhat pleasant* “Oh!”

(She gave me no more snot about checking for fake bills. I’m glad that went as well as it did. Some people take me checking bills as directly calling them a counterfeiter.)

(Working as a cashier for four years has taught me a great deal of patience, but one particular woman always tries to cause a huff when she comes into the store. Today, however, we are short staffed. I am at my register and can not leave the front end, my manager is unloading the truck by himself in the back of the store, and we have one person working in the print department, who also can not leave her station, leaving no one working on the floor. It’s beginning to pick up and I notice the offending woman entering the store. From my register I see her quickly pace up and down the front of the store a couple times looking increasingly irate. She turns around to look at me.)

Customer: *suddenly yelling* “Isn’t there anyone working on the FLOOR?”

Me: *having to speak much louder than normal due to the distance between us* “My apologies, ma’am. We are a bit short staffed at the moment, but I will see if someone is available.”

(At this point the customer forcefully sighs and throws her arms in the air but stays where she is. I radio to my manager that the customer needed assistance ASAP. Before I can even finish speaking over the radio she starts up again.)

Customer: *yelling to no one in particular* “I can’t believe there’s no one working on the FLOOR!”

(I radio again to my manager, sounding a bit more desperate to have this lady out of my hair, and try to explain the situation. Eventually my manager comes out from the back and walks right up to the customer.)

Manager: *very calmly and with a smile* “My apologies for the wait, ma’am. I have lots of other customers who think they are the most important thing in the world, too.”

(The customer and I kind of looked at him in shock. She mumbled to him the item she wanted and I rang up the transaction trying very hard not to laugh. She left without another word.)

(We sell cigarettes. The machine only takes coins.)

Guest: “Hi, I’d like to buy some cigarettes, please.”

Me: “Sure! Do you have enough change?”

Guest: “I only have this €10 bill.”

Me: “No problem. There’s a change machine right next to it.”

Guest: “I don’t know how that works.”

Me: “Uhm… Okay. It’s really easy. You put the bill in the top part, and coins fall out the bottom.”

Guest: “I’ve never done it before. Can you do it?”

Me: “I’m a little busy. It’s not hard. Just put the bill in the top, and coins fall out the bottom.”

(The guest walks away. I continue with my work thinking that this is the end of it. A minute goes by.)

Guest: “THE D*** MACHINE WON’T GIVE ANY CHANGE!”

Me: “Well, let’s take a look. Where’s your bill?”

Guest: *points to the bill, hopelessly lying on the top of the machine*

Me: “Ah, I see. You have to put this in the bill slot, right here, see?”

Guest: “HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!”