After his retirement, my dad spent some time volunteering in a charity shop. He had to deal with all kinds of customer stupidity, but one of the strangest interactions he had was this one.

A woman who ran a local designer clothes shop donated several pairs of gloves to the charity shop. They were new and there was nothing wrong with them, and they were placed on the counter next to the till with a price tag of £5 — significantly less than their retail price.

One day, my dad was serving a woman who was purchasing a few small items. As he rang her up, she started looking through the box of gloves.

Customer: “How much do these cost?”

Dad: “They’re £5 for a pair.”

Customer: *Angrily* “Why are they so expensive?!”

Dad: “They’re new.”

Customer: “I want to talk to a manager! This is a charity shop; you’re not supposed to sell new things!”

My spouse and I went to a big box store to pick up some prescriptions and buy groceries. We finished up shopping and went to the checkout. By this time, I was to the point where I needed to finish up and sit down someplace due to health issues, so I wasn’t paying close attention to the process.

I loaded the items onto the belt while my spouse grabbed the bags and put them into the shopping cart. I prepared to pay and looked at the screen, and it said $270. That seemed a little high to me for the number of items we got, but I went ahead and paid. The cashier seemed like she started to say something to me and then changed her mind, but I didn’t think anything of it. I just wanted to get done and go sit down.

We went out to the car and loaded up the groceries, and I got to sit down, and we headed home. I got a text notification from my credit card but didn’t look at it until we got home — about a twenty-minute drive.

When I finally checked the text message, it said that the total purchase was $424.96! What?! I got the receipt out and, sure enough, that was the total. I looked through the items we had purchased, and the very last one was a tire — for $270! I called the store to see if I could get the refund over the phone or online, but no, I had to drive back to the store.

So, twenty minutes back to the store and up to customer service. The only person there, [Employee #1], didn’t know about my phone call, so she started to look at the receipt. [Employee #2] came over.

Employee #2: “Oh, you’re the one who called about the tire!”

She started to process the refund and started having problems. At about this time, [Employee #3] showed up, so she took over trying to process a refund. She also got an error about the product not being in the system.

[Employee #3] called for a supervisor, who looked at the receipt.

Supervisor: “How did you get charged for a tire? We don’t sell tires at this location!”

Me: “I don’t know. I didn’t buy one!”

The supervisor finally decided that he could put the money on a gift card and then go to one of the cashiers and get cash to give me the refund. Then, he couldn’t get the swipe on the computer to put the funds on the gift card! He tried three different gift cards, and then [Employee #3] said maybe it would work on the other computer. She switched it over and got it to work.

[Supervisor] ran to get the cash, and I finally had my refund!

Apparently, the cashier who had checked us out was new. I had seen her manually entering the UPC from one of our items, and she must have entered it incorrectly, selling me a tire instead of a bottle of vitamins! The supervisor was surprised that the computer didn’t catch her mistake, and I told him about her starting to say something to me but then stopping.

The fun part is that some family members work for the big box store corporation. My spouse had texted them about being charged for a “tire” and one of them texted back saying, “That location doesn’t even sell tires!”

I’m buying my regular morning coffee at my favorite local shop. I pour my coffee and wait in line to pay. I hear them tell the customers in front of me that the card reader is down and that they can only take cash at the moment. Fine with me.

I step up to the counter with my drink and exact change, and the woman who has been in line just ahead of me steps aside but continues talking to the cashier and the manager who’s trying to troubleshoot the card reader.

Manager: “Yeah, I have no idea how to fix it. We’ll have to call tech support.”

Patron: “My dad runs a business, so I’m very familiar with these things. He can read cards from his phone. You should do that, too.”

Manager: “I don’t think that’ll work for us right now, but that’s good to know in case this happens again. We have [Common Small-Business Point-Of-Sale System]; is that what he uses?”

Patron: “Oh, I can call him. He can walk you through setting it up on your phone.”

Manager: “Thanks for offering, but we’d need the boss’s okay to do that. And we might not use the same system. What does he have?”

Patron: “Umm, I think it’s called Point Of Sale? It’s really easy to use. I can show you how it works.”

Manager: “Thanks, but I’m going to go call tech support now.”

I wished the cashier good luck and left at that point, but I wish I’d had time to stick around and see if this very knowledgeable businesswoman was going to call her dad and learn that “Point Of Sale” is not actually the point of sale system that he uses.

I’m working the checkout of a drug store that also sells some food and grocery items. An older man walks up and puts an ice cream bar on my counter. I can tell because it’s cold and has a familiar logo on it, but it’s missing a name and barcode to scan it.

Me: “I’m sorry, but there’s no barcode on this.”

Man: “I just wanted one ice cream, but you didn’t have them as singles.”

I look again and realize that the ice cream is from a box of multiple bars.

Me: “Sir, I can’t sell you one part of the box. You have to buy the whole package.”

Man: “Then bring me one ice cream!”

Me: “The single bars are next to the boxes. If there weren’t any, then we are sold out.”

He looks annoyed and goes back to the freezer. He brings the box he opened and I sell it to him.

The very same day…

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], can you price check these? The register says, ‘Item not found.’”

I look and, sure enough, the items are mini single water bottles that are part of a pack. I address the teenagers that are trying to buy them.

Me: “These bottles are part of a package. We can’t sell them individually.”

Teen: “But I just want two.”

Me: “Sorry, I can’t sell them to you.”

They left without buying the package, of course, so I had to go to the shelf and mark the package unsellable now that it had a big hole where the teenagers had ripped out the bottles. I still can’t wrap my head around how people think it’s acceptable to damage items and not pay for them.

I work at a chain pharmacy store during college. One summer, the store manager asks me to work full-time days on the main register. Basically, I am a twenty-year-old guy working with a group of thirty-year-old mothers.

My relief is supposed to show up at noon, but they ignore my pages and will show up fifteen, twenty, or thirty minutes late. Honestly, I like it since I don’t like to eat that early.

The second week, [Store Manager] comes into the break room at about quarter to one.

Store Manager: “You are screwing up everyone’s break schedule by taking your break late. Everyone is complaining to me about it!”

I start to tell her that my relief isn’t showing up on time, but she puts up her hand.

Store Manager: “NO EXCUSES! I WANT YOU BACK ON MAIN REGISTER AT 12:30 SHARP!”

Okay, malicious compliance time.

The next day, I page my relief every five minutes up until five to noon. Then, I call my backup, who is confused as I am only supposed to call them when I have a line, but I am already walking away with the register drawer to lock it in the office, and I tell them they need to stay on the backup register. I clock out at noon on the dot. Fifteen minutes later, my frantic store manager comes running into the break room.

Store Manager: “WHY IS NO ONE ON THE MAIN REGISTER?! There’s a giant line on backup and she said you just walked away?!”

Me: “You told me to be off the main register at noon sharp, no excuses.”

Store Manager: “I DID NOT!”

Me: “Did you say I had to be back on register at 12:30?”

Store Manager: “YES! THAT’S WHAT I SAID!”

Me: “And is my break a half-hour long?”

[Store Manager] is silent for a moment and then speaks in a much meeker tone.

Store Manager: “Is there any chance you can go ring while I sort this out, and you can finish your break in a bit?”

Me: *All smiles* “Sure, no problem!”

And for the rest of the summer, my relief showed up at five to noon without my having to page her.