I am working the cash register at a pharmacy with a corner store attached. This elderly customer approaches the register. As it’s early morning on a Monday, the store is dead.

Me: “Find everything you’re looking for?”

He stops dead in his tracks and looks at me like a French bulldog looks at a steak.

Customer: “As a matter of fact, no. I want to get a bottle of multi-vitamins, and they’re locked up.”

Now, normally, I would leap at a chance to leave the penalty box that is the front register. However, the vitamin lockbox is the one lockbox that only the manager has a key for — the exactly one key, so that’s never a point of failure.

I put on my apologetic face.

Me: “Oh, I am sorry, sir. If you go back to the case, there is a Customer Service button. Hit that and the person with the keys will come to help.”

Instead of smiling and going to do as I suggested, he chooses to get indignant.

Customer: *Grumpily* “What? Why can’t you help me?”

I do my best to repress a heavy sigh.

Me: “Because, sir, I do not have the key for that box.”

So he grumbles the whole way, something like, “Razza-fragga, I’m a veteran. Grumble-mumble, I’m no thief.”

I ignore him and head back to the register to wait for his return.

Eventually, the sound of the service button being pressed is heard overhead. Good. All is right in the world. Right?

Right?

Well, it takes my manager three cycles of the alarm going off before he arrives at the lockbox. I can hear the old man from clear across the store.

Customer: “What took you so d*** long?”

Eventually, the old man makes his way back to my register. This time, having learned my lesson, I do not ask if he found everything. I just go through the normal questions. “Do you want a bag?” “Are you a member of our rewards program?” All those time sinks.

Once he is finished, he snatches the bag off the counter. He again looks me in the face and grumbles:

Customer: “Ya shoulda asked if I found everything.”

I’ve had just about enough of this guy, so I break out… Mr. Nice Guy.

Me: “Oh! Oh, I am so, so sorry, sir! Please excuse me!”

I start to flail my hands around as if I am partially trying to fan off my face.

Me: “I had already asked and I had helped you. I thought you had found everything. Please forgive me, sir.”

The old guy was so unprepared for such a response that he just stood there, blinked, and then slowly walked out of the store.

The power of groveling.

This is during the mask mandate. I’m a cashier and I notice I start to get a bit shaky and hungry. I buy chips to eat while I do not have customers in my line. I’m eating and have my mask down while I do, because I can’t eat through a mask. A male customer comes up and shoves the large “please wear a mask” sign into my face and walks off. About ten minutes later:

Manager: “I just had a customer complain that you weren’t wearing your mask.”

Me: “Did they mention I was eating? You can check the cameras. My blood sugar dropped.”

Manager: “He did. You’re not in any trouble at all. Just giving a heads-up it happened, and he walked out saying he’s never shopping here again.” *Walks away*

How much of a jerk do you have to be over someone eating potato chips for their blood sugar and complain I wasn’t wearing a mask at the time? Sorry I don’t put holes in my mask that’s meant to protect me to eat or drink.

Back in the late 2000s, I use to work for a supermarket chain in my state where I would switch between cashiering and scanning departments. This chain of stores would occasionally have the cashiers ask all customers if they wanted a donation to be made to any school in the county by having the store donate about 6-10% of the bill to the school of the customer’s choice.

During one cashier shift, I was dealing with a small rush that hit my lane and going through orders as quickly as possible. As I got to this gentleman and his two kids, I greeted him as I have been with everyone and scanned and bagged up his items without incident.

Then, I asked if he had coupons, he said no, and I asked if he wanted to donate to a school. Immediately, he lost it. He went into a full, angry rant at me.

Customer: “How dare you ask me to give more money to this store? I put my kids through school with my own money, not relying on others!”

I couldn’t get a word in edgewise as he spewed more irrational hatred at me (I can’t remember whatever else he said), threw his money at me to pay for his things as I managed to get out his total for the groceries, and stomped over to the customer service desk. He then proceeded to yell at the manager for what I did to him and scream that he wouldn’t be coming back again. His kids didn’t do much except carry the groceries out behind him.

The customers behind him reassured me that I was just doing my job and hadn’t done anything wrong. Once the rush was done, I walked over to the customer service desk and asked the manager about that guy. She told me she’d heard the whole ordeal between me and him and that he was in the wrong; he was probably blowing off steam on me since I wouldn’t do anything to retaliate. I never saw the guy again during the time I worked there, and I never even had any complaints lodged against me by anyone.

I’ve worked in retail for a little over five years now. I work at a local gift shop, and it’s pretty small, so we don’t get too many rude people, but I still have some interesting stories since I also live in a small town.

A customer walks in holding a large jug of laundry detergent, and since we’re just a gift shop, I know he’s not trying to make a return or anything, so I wonder what he’s carrying it around for. He shops around for a bit and grabs a few items to bring up to the register. I scan everything while he starts to chat with a coworker of mine.

The total ends up being $20 even, and he then hands me the jug of detergent. Of course, I’m confused, wondering if he is trying to barter with me or something. He must notice the confused look on my face because he elaborates before I can ask.

Customer: “The money is in there, my dear.”

Even more confused, I take the jug from him and it’s HEAVY. I open it and it is completely full of quarters.

Me: “Uhh, is this all you have?”

He simply nodded and continued to talk to my coworker, so I had to stand there and count out $20 worth of quarters. I was thankful that there were no other customers because it took a good few minutes, mainly because I had to dump quarters out onto the counter since the jug was one of those ones with a small pour spout on the top.

Once I was finally done counting, he thanked me and went on his merry way, taking his quarter jug with him. He was definitely nice and stuff, and honestly, it wasn’t even a big deal, especially since small change is always more than welcome. I’m just thankful I didn’t have to count out $20 in pennies.

The pharmacy I work at requires us to ask for the customer’s name and date of birth when they’re picking up a prescription. This is so we make sure we have the correct patient and don’t give them the wrong prescription by mistake.

My coworker helped a man who, when she asked for his date of birth, just gave her the month and day. When asked for the year, he said, “Every year,” like she was stupid. His prescription wasn’t quite ready, so he’s sitting in our waiting area while it’s finished. I’ve just called his name to come to pick up. I’d overheard his conversation with my coworker, so I’m prepared for him to pull the same stunt when I help him.

Me: “Okay, [Customer], will you just verify your date of birth for me?”

Customer: “It’s January fifth.”

Me: “And what year was that?”

Customer: *Thinking he’s clever* “Every year!”

Me: *Deadpan* “You were born every year?”

I specifically asked for your date of birth, not your birthday, smarta**.