(We have briefs in packets; they normally cost a pack of 3 for £5. On this day, a customer comes with 6 packs.)

Me: “That’s £30 please, Sir.”

Customer: “What? No, they are 3 packs for £5! That sign says so.” *points at the sign, which says ‘3 pairs for £5’*

Me: “Oh! No, Sir, I’m afraid that’s not the case. The sign is referring to the number of briefs in each pack. They are still £5 each.”

Customer: “No, that’s not right! You’re trying to screw me over, you little c***!”

Me: *shocked* “No, Sir, I’m not. If you wish, I can get my manager and he can explain it to you.”

Customer: “You better f***ing do that, b****! I’ll give him a piece of my d*** mind.”

(I ring the bell to call my manager. He has already heard the shouting, and comes quickly. He is a 6′ 5” man who looks more like he belongs in wrestling gear than in a suit.)

Manager: “Is there a problem here?”

Customer: “Yes! There bloody well…” *he goes pale as he takes in my manager, and immediately goes all meek* “er… this girl is trying to… to dupe me.”

Manager: “No, she isn’t. Now, I suggest you pay for your purchases, apologise to my colleague for what you called her, and then leave.”

Customer: *gives me his card and mumbles* “Sorry.”

(I’ve never seen someone leave the store so fast.)

Customer: “Hi, my son needs a book called Ethan for his summer reading.”

Me: “Sure! Do you mean Ethan Frome?”

Customer: “No, it’s just Ethan.”

Me: “Is it by Edith Wharton?”

Customer: *looks at a piece of paper* “Um… yeah, it is, but my son just wrote down Ethan.”

Me: “Okay. Well, he probably just didn’t write down the full title, so let’s go grab Ethan Frome.”

Customer: “No! You aren’t listening to me! It’s not Ethan Frome, it’s just Ethan!”

Me: “It’s really not a big deal. We’ll—”

Customer: “It IS a big deal! You’re calling my son a liar!”

Me: “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to—”

Customer: “My son is a very good student. Maybe you should have paid more attention when you were in school, or you’d know that Edith Whoever wrote a book called Ethan!”

Me: “My apologies. Let me grab that book for you.”

(I go grab a copy of “Ethan Frome” and hand it to the customer.)

Customer: “No! What are you, an idiot? You’re trying to trick me by giving me Ethan Frome when I just need Ethan!”

Me: “Ma’am, Edith Wharton never wrote a book called Ethan. She did write a book called Ethan Frome.”

Customer: “MY SON IS NOT A LIAR!”

(I spend the next five minutes showing the customer all of the books Edith Wharton wrote in her lifetime on the computer. “Ethan Frome” appears on every list, but there is no reference to a book called just “Ethan”.)

Customer: “My son said it’s called Ethan, and that’s what I need! Obviously, you people just haven’t heard of it and you’re trying to make me look like an idiot. I’ll show you! I’ll call the school and get them to read me the summer reading list!”

(She calls the school on her cell phone. The school receptionist informs her that the title in question is, in fact, “Ethan Frome.” The customer turns bright red, and eventually hangs up on the poor receptionist.)

Customer: “None of you know what you’re talking about!” *snatches up a copy of “Ethan Frome” stalks off*

Me: “Have a nice day!”

Manager: “You need to take a ten minute break?”

Me: “You have no idea.”

Me: “Hello, can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, I was in here yesterday and picked up a liquid allergy medication for my dog.”

Me: “Okay, what seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “You didn’t give me the right syringe to give it to them.”

(The customer places a bottle of medication and a plastic 3CC syringe on the counter. I pick up the syringe and the bottle, which instructs the owner to give 5CCs orally, three times per day. I test the syringe to make sure that it’s working properly.)

Me: “I’m sorry, miss, but what problem do you seem to be having with this?”

Customer: “Can’t you see that the instructions say to give 5CCs per day?!”

Me: “I can see that.”

Customer: “Then why did you only give me a 3CC dispenser?”

Me: “Well, we don’t have any 5CC syringes. You’re supposed to fill the syringe up to the 3CC mark, dispense it, and then give another 2CCs.”

Customer: “But that’s not 5CCs.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “That just isn’t going to work! 3CCs plus 2CCs isn’t 5CCs!”

(I decide not to argue with her, so I go back into the back and grab another 3CC syringe.)

Me: “I’m sorry about the mix-up. The doctor is very sorry. He says to give the dog the first syringe clear full. Then, fill this new syringe up to the 2CC mark and dispense that orally.”

Customer: “Well, why couldn’t you have done that in the first place?!”

This story is part of our Take Your Dog To The Vet roundup!

Read the next Take Your Dog To The Vet roundup story!

Read the Take Your Dog To The Vet roundup!

(I work at an aquarium. I am petting one of the starfishes in the touch tank when a middle-aged man comes up to the tank. A coworker working the tank is telling us facts about starfishes).

Coworker: “A really interesting aspect about these guys is that if one of their arms was severed, they could grow another one.”

Middle-aged Man: “So, you mean that if I cut off one of its arms it would grow right back?”

Coworker: “Well yes, but—”

Middle-aged Man: “What if I cut off TWO of its arms? Would they still grow back?”

Coworker: “Well, I’m—”

Middle-aged Man: “I know! I will cut off ALL of its arms! Let’s see if it can rebound from that!”

Coworker: *freaked out* “Thank you for all the interest everyone, but the touch tank is now closed for the day!” *moves all the starfish back towards him and closes the tank*

This story is included in our Aquarium roundup!

Want to read the next story? Click here!

Want to read the roundup? Click here!

(I’m checking out a sleazy-looking customer. He’s buying a gallon of milk. To not waste bags, we’re supposed to ask if people want their milk in a bag or if they’ll just carry it as is.)

Me: “You want your milk in a bag?”

Sleazy Customer: “Heh, heh. No, but I’ll take the milk in your bags. You got a boyfriend, sweetheart?”

Me: “Oh yeah. He works here. One minute…” *over the intercom* “Greg to the front please, Greg.”

(Greg isn’t my boyfriend, but Greg is one of our stock persons. Greg is about six feet tall and has been training for the Marines, so he’s completely ripped.)

Sleazy Customer: *staring at my chest* “I bet he’s a real pansy. I could be a big man for you, sweetheart.”

(I quietly take the customer’s money and give him back his change. Greg shows up to the front.)

Greg: *to me* “What do you need?”

Me: “Hey baby, this guy wanted to meet my boyfriend. He keeps talking about my…milk bags?”

(The customer stares bug-eyed at Greg. Greg, for his part, doesn’t even miss a beat. He just leans toward the customer.)

Greg: “Sir, the last man who sexually harassed my girl? I ripped him apart with my bare hands.”

Sleazy Customer: *turns and runs out of the store*

Me: *to the sleazy customer* “YOU FORGOT YOUR JUG OF MILK!”