I’m a dark-haired, broad-shouldered, bearded man who is very obviously in his thirties, not (generally) easily confused with a diminutive form of a youth. So, you already know that the story is all downhill from here.

Entitled Woman: “Boy! Boy, c’mere!”

I look up from my crouch, a box cutter in my hand. It’s 9:04 am on a Monday morning; we’ve barely been open long enough to clear the boxes we’re stocking from the truck into a passable path for shoppers. A tall woman snaps her fingers impatiently from eight aisles (some forty feet) away. And this is how my day is starting.

Entitled Woman: “Boy!”

You have got to be s***ting me.

Me: “Ma’am?”

I slip the cutter into my vest pocket and stand up. I’m also trying to keep my tone neutrally audible, non-confrontational but hearable from SUCH A DISTANCE as I begin to pick my way toward her.

Entitled Woman: *Snapping her fingers again* “Boy!”

Bless her heart, in the southern United States way.

Me: “Yes? What can I help you with?”

I approach her as she stands in the middle of our Fall Seasonal Valley, which is filled with faux pumpkins and maple leaves in bright oranges, muted reds, and brown-toned golds.

Entitled Woman: “Do you have any more of these?”

She thrusts an ad copy in my face — our Sunday ads often vie with magazines for their heft and abundance — and points to the Christmas trees display. The photo features a large, pre-lit, and flocked tree photoshopped into absolute (unachievable) Winter Wonderland perfection. It also has a bright red-and-white bubble declaring, “Introducing our newest tree, coming November 1st!” Today is October 19th.

This will not go well, I know it. Allow me a moment to don a combat helmet and dig a trench.

Me: “No, ma’am, I’m sorry. We don’t have those trees in yet; we’re expecting them on one of the coming trucks, either next Monday or the Monday after. I’m sorry about that.”

I try to have a kind tone and apologetic smile as I look her in the eyes. War is immediately declared.

Entitled Woman: “Ex… cuse. Me?”

Me: “Ma’am?”

Entitled Woman: “It’s right here — in… print… — that you have this tree. Why would you advertise it if you don’t. Have. It?”

She speaks in clipped, slow tones as if I were an errant toddler who just soiled the rug with a mud pie.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but if you look closely at the ad, see, here? There’s an announcement bubble.”

I point to the bright spot of color.

Me: “It says, ‘Coming November 1st.’ We won’t be putting up the Tree Forest until at least next week; we still have so much Fall around.”

I gesture to our surroundings with a deferential — and hopefully amused, not irritated — look on my face.

Me: “But don’t worry; Christmas is coming!”

She makes a sound that can only be described as a strangled, angry sigh.

Entitled Woman: “Let me speak with your manager. This is some false advertising bulls***.”

Me: “I’m so sorry you feel like that. Let me see if our store assistant general manager, Ms. [Manager], is free.”

I press the microphone on the radio earpiece I’m wearing.

Me: “[Manager], would you be able to meet a customer at the Fall Seasonal Valley? She has some…” *Pauses, searching for the right word* “She has some concerns regarding the promotional ad and our Christmas trees.”

Manager: “She does know that they don’t go out for another two weeks, right?”

[Manager]’s sensible and naturally polite voice, thankfully, can’t be heard outside of the crackling earpiece by the Entitled Woman.

Me: *Grimace audible in my voice* “I do believe that that may be the root of her concerns. She wanted to speak with you.”

Despite the years of training and her generally sweet nature, I can picture [Manager] rolling her eyes with exasperation; I’m pretty sure I can hear the eye roll, actually.

Manager: “Ah. It’s already one of those days, isn’t it? Of course, it is. Let her know that I’m on my way.”

Her voice takes on that strained, false chipperness retail workers have ingrained and branded onto our souls.

Me: “Ma’am, Ms. [Manager] is on her way; I’m sure that she’ll be able to answer your concerns.”

I smile and turn away. I’m pretty sure I bared my teeth just as I said that, despite my best efforts. And it’s not even 9:15 in the morning.

Ten minutes later, [Manager] joins me in the Floral Department

Manager: “Well, that was a giant timesuck.”

Me: “That fun, eh?”

Manager: “How hard is it to read the bold print superimposed over the picture you’re obsessed with?”

Me: “Judging from that woman’s demeanor, I’d say selective literacy is her superpower.”

Manager: “With a bonus talent for being both condescending and incredibly obstinate.”

Me: “Wow. We hit the jackpot with her, didn’t we?”

And then our earpieces vibrate. The war is not over. Prepare for the second volley.

Young Cashier: *Nervously* “I need a sign check. A customer says that Fall Baskets are supposed to be 50% off, but it doesn’t ring that way when I scan it.”

Both [Manager] and I turn and look down the adjacent aisle at the display of Fall Baskets.

Me: “Want me to answer or do you?”

Manager: “I got the last one; it’s your turn.”

I stick my tongue out at her cheekily before answering, as [Manager] stifles a giggle.

Me: “I’m over here, and the signs say, ‘Buy One Get One 50% Off’. Did she get two or just one basket?”

Young Cashier: “Okay, hold on.”

She’s still holding her mic button down as I hear a tinny, angry voice declare, “That isn’t what the sign said!”

Me: *Taking pity on the poor cashier* “If you want, I can grab a second, cheap basket and bring it and the sign up to you?”

Young Cashier: “Um…”

She sounds frazzled, and I can still hear the indistinct voice of the Entitled Woman in the background being abrasive and impatient.

Me: “Just to be safe, I’m on my way.”

I roll my eyes to [Manager] as we exchange a world-weary look. I pass several milling customers as I make my way up to the front of the store, all smiles and determined shopping; they’re in their own worlds and happy to be there. It just takes one.

Me: “Here you go, [Young Cashier].”

I set down both a small basket and the sign at her register.

Entitled Woman: “Oh, of course, you’d be the one.”

Me: *Fake chipper voice* “Hullo again. As you can see by the sign, you have to buy two to get the discount on the second one.”

The Entitled Woman mutters something indistinct, and I get the distinct impression that my ancestors have been maligned. It’s obvious that seeing an Employee With A Spine, working for a Manager With A Spine is not making her day. She simply MUST comment on me showing up as a backup for the helpless register cannon fodder she thought she could just rip through and get her coveted discount.

Me: *Still in a fake chipper voice* “Glad I could clear that up for you.”

It’s the only thing that comes to mind that isn’t a biting retort or scathingly-delivered, profanity-laced rip.

I continue on past [Young Cashier], offering a quick (and hopefully reassuring) shoulder squeeze as I step up to the counter to type my codes into a register.

Me: “I’ll help the next guest on five.”

I’m on autopilot — smiling, scanning, smiling, faux small-talk, smiling, bagging, smiling, and wishing customers a good day out there in the real world — when a sharp intake of breath breaks my lack of concentration as the last of my customers walks away.

Entitled Woman: “Excuse me.”

Volley three in the war. Here we go.

Me: “Yes, ma’am? What can I help you with?”

Entitled Woman: “That young lady.” *Points at [Young Cashier]* “I want to complain that that young lady said these [Brand] markers weren’t on sale, and yet…”

She pauses and suddenly glares, all beady eyes and pursed lips, to gesture emphatically with the tin in her hand.

Entitled Woman: “When I went back there, the sign clearly said that the packs were indeed eight dollars and not seventeen.”

She thrusts the package at me.

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. Let me scan it and see what’s going on.”

I pull the scanner and watch my screen to see what it says.

Me: “Ahh, here we go.”

I point to the large screen above her head where the results are displayed.

Me: “On our side of the screen, until we hit ‘TOTAL’, it won’t show the sale price, but if you look at the price as it shows on your side, it has the sale pri—”

Entitled Woman: *Interrupting* “Well, why doesn’t it say that on my receipt? Eight dollars really is a huge difference in price. It really is. I don’t know why it wouldn’t; that’s such a difference.”

Me: “Well, let me see; we can scan the receipt and return it so that—”

Entitled Woman: “Oh.”

Her frozen movement reminds me of a computer locking up; she was halfway to handing me the receipt when she simply stopped.

Entitled Woman: “Well, then. It says right here on the receipt the sale price.”

Of course, it does. I do my best not to grit my teeth in a grimace instead of a retail smile.

Me: “As I was saying, she probably could only see the screen on our side of the register which shows the—”

Entitled Woman: *Interrupting again* “See, you were wrong.”

This time she’s waving the receipt at [Young Cashier], her hand inches from [Young Cashier]’s shocked face.

Entitled Woman: “You said it was full price and it wasn’t. You were wrong.”

Me: “Ma’am, as I was trying to tell you—”

Entitled Woman: *Turning back to me, her eyes boring into my face* “She really doesn’t know what she’s doing. She needs a lot more training.”

Me: “As I was saying, she could only see—”

Entitled Woman: “Eight dollars is really a big difference.”

The line is gone, and the queue is empty of customers, and all [Young Cashier] and I can do is stare at her as she triumphantly waves the receipt while she walks out into the parking lot. Neither an acknowledgment nor an apology would ever pass those puckered lips.

Young Cashier: “Wow.”

Me: *Very tired and resigned* “You have that right, [Young Cashier] — just another fun day in retail!”

I work at a retail store that recently came out with a phone app, which has new coupons every week. Our boss is really pushing us to get customers to download the app and encouraging a bit of competition between everyone to get the most downloads each day, but I haven’t had much success. Most people aren’t interested in another app on their phones, and even for those who are, there are a few hoops to jump through when registering on the app. I talk to loads of customers about it each day, but I average maybe one download per day, well below the goal of five. Honestly, it’s been a bit disheartening.

This week, there are two relevant coupons on the app. The first is that if you spend $50 in the store, you’ll get $20 in store credit to use on a future purchase. The second is a free snack or candy item. I tell one of our customers who just walked in about the deal and how to download the app, and she’s very excited about it. About half an hour later, she approaches me at the register.

Customer: “Thank you so much for telling me about these deals! I can’t wait to get my $20!”

Me: “No problem.”

I notice that she doesn’t have any snacks or candy to purchase. I gesture to the candy bars for sale next to the register.

Me: “Don’t forget about the free candy!”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, so I probably won’t bother. Unless you want it.”

Me: “…Well, I wouldn’t turn it down if you offered.”

Customer: “Sure! Which one do you want?”

The customer then grabbed my favorite candy bar, added it to her purchase, used the coupon to get it for free, and gave it to me. Honestly, it made my whole week! I may not have the most downloads, but for getting the most free candy, I’m officially in the lead.

I’m working part-time as a cashier on the express lane — twelve items or less. Since it’s a weeknight, most of the customers have larger orders, so there are only a couple of people in the express line. As I am checking a customer out, I notice a man at the end of the belt starting to unload a nearly full cart of items.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, this is the express lane.” 

You would think I had cast aspersions on his parentage. He’s furious! Fortunately, the night manager is nearby and offers to check him out at another register (so he doesn’t have to wait in line).

Customer: *Snarling and pointing at me* “Not until she apologizes!”

Me: “Sir, I am sorry that you can’t count to twelve.” 

Got a write-up. Worth it.

I work in a store that has a lot of thefts. Calling security is never an option because they take ten minutes to arrive, even when there was a fight at the registers that ended up requiring the police and multiple ambulances.

Because of this, people get away with a lot of things, to the point that we have a recurring customer who’s stolen more than he’s ever bought.

This isn’t that customer, but the other week, I was serving a customer who asked to take cash off his EFTPOS (electronic funds transfer at point of sale) card. Not a big deal, but it failed so many times he said to just cancel the order and just walked out while I cancelled the cashout order. That’s when I realised that he also took out the entirety of his cart — about $50 of deli meat.

Of course, I knew I was going to get written up and just marked it as a loss. At least we know what he took.

A few hours later, he came through again, his order at $400 now, full of a lot of premium silverware, cosmetics, and the like. Plus, he wanted cashout. On the same card as before.

I said sure and put his groceries on my other side, so he wasn’t in arms reach of any of it, before setting up for the cashout.

Instead of using his card, he immediately asked:

Customer: “Why did you move the bags?”

Me: “I’m looking to clean the area while you finish your purchase.

That was a lie, but I couldn’t tell him that I suspected he was a thief.

I didn’t even mention the previous shop, but he immediately started yelling at me.

Customer: “Give me my bags! You’re refusing to sell to me because I stole earlier!”

I hadn’t mentioned it at all.

It took a few minutes for the manager to arrive and take over the man’s shop. Turns out his card still didn’t work, and with a huff, he just left.

So, I got two write-ups that day — one for a $50 loss and the other for suspecting a thief — but I got praised by Loss Prevention, so it was a roller coaster of a day.

This year, I was one of the late Christmas shoppers. I decided to look out for the last gifts at the mall, so off I went.

While I was browsing, I noticed a small jeweler that somehow had a lot of people. I decided everyone would like some trinkets and went in. The reason it was so packed was that there was a 50% discount on a selection of jewelry.

I was weaving in and out between customers, checking out what the shop had. I decided on two silver rings and pearl earrings. I joined the somehow short queue and waited for my turn.

When I arrived…

Cashier: “Sorry, ma’am, those two ladies were in front of you!”

I looked behind me to see two women looking at the cashier.

Me: “Oops, my bad. I’ll wait, then.”

So, that’s what I did. Good for me, because I noticed a pair of earrings that were cheaper and prettier.

When it was my turn, I apologised again for unknowingly cutting in front of people. The cashier smiled.

Cashier: “It’s all right. The place’s so packed, it’s hard to tell who’s in line and who’s still browsing.”

Me: “I used to work in a bookshop. December was hellish. Too many people for just us three, and so rude sometimes. I remember someone actually whistling to get my attention. Thankfully, my manager chewed him out.”

As if on cue, a customer started yelling:

Customer: “Hey, I need some help here!”

The cashier sighed and called her coworker.

Cashier: “That’s the same here. Black Friday, Christmas, the Winter and Summer sales, we’re always so packed.”

We kept making small talk while she was ringing me up. Right after I paid, she whispered with a smile, “Stay exactly as you are, all right?”

I will, don’t worry.