(As I am leaving Major Retailer, the alarm goes off. I immediately pull my cart back from the doorway and turn to the associate stationed there to monitor the alarms. She asks me to come over to the side so she can check my purchases for a “decoding error.” I figure it is probably the computer speakers I have just picked up – it certainly isn’t the bags of chips from the grocery department.)

Security: “No need to be nervous. This happens all the time.”

Me: *smiling* “Oh, I’m not nervous. I know I didn’t steal anything.”

Security: “Oh, thank heavens. So many people get upset when this happens.”

Me: “Well, I know it’s not your fault, and I’ve worked retail before so I know what those customers are like.”

(She checks my receipt and tests the speaker box, which does indeed set off the alarm again, and makes a note for management to explain the alarm, then wishes me a good night.)

Me: “Have a good night yourself, and hopefully you won’t get yelled at before your shift ends.”

Security: *laughing* “I’ll be happy if I don’t get yelled at for ten minutes, because that would make a new record for today!”

(I work for a cell phone accessory shop inside a mall as the primary repair technician. Appointments are made through a third-party call center, and then an email with details is sent to our store; we don’t interact with a customer until they show up. A woman shows up at our kiosk with a sheet of paper in her hand.)

Customer: “I’m supposed to drop off my husband’s phone to be fixed. He said the place was here in the mall, but I can’t find it.”

(I realize that she believes we were an actual shop and not a kiosk. I check our appointments.)

Me: “We can certainly help you out. We have an appointment scheduled at 12:30 for [Husband]. Is that him?”

Customer: “I’m pretty sure this isn’t the place. He said it was called [Store], by Starbucks.”

(She obviously can’t see Starbucks behind her.)

Me: “Yes, that is us. It’s a little early, but you can still drop off—”

Customer: “No, I’m definitely sure this isn’t the place. Thank you for your help.”

(She leaves, and presumably finds another phone repair shop because she didn’t come back. Four hours pass and a man walks up to the kiosk.)

Man: “Excuse me; I’m here to pick up my phone. My wife dropped it off earlier.”

(I ask for his name, and he tells me. I realize that his wife was the woman from earlier. I inform him what happened. He rolls his eyes in disbelief.)

Man: “That woman couldn’t find water if she fell out of a canoe! I told her exactly where you guys were, and even drew her a map!”

(I had wondered what that paper in her hand was.)

Customer: *to my coworker* “I would like a half-dozen plain glazed donuts.”

(My coworker packs them up in a box sized just for the half dozen, and then turns to start ringing the customer up.)

Customer: “Uh, EXCUSE me, I asked for a HALF DOZEN donuts.”

Coworker: “This is a half-dozen, ma’am.”

(He opens the box to show her.)

Customer: “Oh, my god. A haaaaaaaalf dooooooozen. Why can’t they hire people who speak English. You there!”

(She is snapping her fingers at me, and I come over.)

Customer: “I ordered a half-dozen donuts and this [racist slur] gave me six!”

Me: “A half-dozen is six.”

Customer: “Oh, my god, are you an idiot!? There’s ten in a half-dozen!”

(She pulls out her phone, muttering comments about how dumb I am and racial comments about my coworker. She flashes a screen with the search “how many are in a half dozen,” and then hits enter. It comes back with six, and she turns a bright shade of red.)

Customer: “Oh, my god. Oh, my god, this is bull-s***.” *she turns to leave the store, and then stops at the door and turns to my coworker* “Go back to where you came from! I hope you are deported!”

Coworker: “I’m from New Jersey.”

(There’s a guy that orders the exact same sandwich from our deli every few days. This was the first time I helped him. Usually one of the ladies who recognizes him will just start making it when they see him but none of them were there when he got there.)

Me: “Hello, can I help you?”

Customer: “I want a sandwich on wheat bread with mustard and mayo, but scrape it off, and lettuce and turkey. Cut it in half and wrap each half in plastic wrap.”

Me: “Okay.” *I grab one of the sandwich order forms and write it down real quick before I forget* “I’ll have it done in a few minutes.”

(I make the sandwich following the instructions to a T. I tag the package with the sandwich in it and wish him a good night. He leaves. He comes back a few minutes later looking furious.)

Customer: “Excuse me. There’s supposed to be bread here.” *he’s pointing to one of the halves which obviously has bread on it*

Me: “There is bread on it.”

Customer: “No, there’s not; it should be right here but it’s not.”

Me: “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

Customer: “You see this? That’s meat; it’s supposed to be bread!”

(We go back and forth a few times until I stop to process what exactly he’s trying to ask me. In the middle of it he scoffs and storms off. Before he got too far, I have an idea and stop him.)

Me: “Wait, sir. Do you want me to move the bread over?”

Customer: “YES!”

(I took the sandwich from him and un-wrapped the plastic. I moved the bread over the QUARTER INCH it slid off of the meat and very carefully wrapped it back up so it wouldn’t move again. I handed it back to him, and then he very happily walked off.)

(We have a policy where you must present a receipt if you filled up your gas tank before returning your car. Some cars take a while to move off of full.)

Customer: “Hi, I’m returning my rental car! It’s full of gas!”

Me: “Great! Do you have the receipt that shows you bought the gas?”

Customer: “Uh, no. You can see it’s full.”

Me: “Well, you drove 50 miles, so there will be a fee if you don’t have your receipt.”

Customer: “But it shows that it’s full of gas!”

Me: “Driving 50 miles used roughly two gallons of gas that you didn’t replace. I’ll need to charge you if you didn’t refill the tank.”

Customer: “Oh, no. You see, it didn’t USE any gas! It’s still on full!”