CONTENT WARNING: Gross

I am checking out a mother and her baby. When it’s time to pay:

Mother: “Here, take this.”

She hands me her baby. Out of reflex and shock, I take the little thing while she inserts her card and pays. Suddenly, the baby projectile vomits all over my hair.

Mother: *Upon seeing the mess* “Looks like someone had an oopsie!”

And with that, the mother just whisks the baby away and leaves with her shopping, just humming happily like nothing has happened.

I close my lane and start power-walking to the staff restroom to deal with my situation when I am stopped by an old lady.

Customer: “Excuse me, I need you to… Uh, hello! I am talking to you!… You’re moving too fast!”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am. I have to clean my hair. Please find another associate.”

And with that, I dash to the sink and clean all the spawn spew from my hair as much as I can. I finally return to the shop floor to find my coworker just finishing with the old lady.

Coworker: “Was that… vomit in your hair?!”

Me: “Yes! So gross! Thanks for helping that customer.”

Coworker: “No problem. You’ll never guess what she was looking for: a hair bleaching kit!”

Me: “I should have stopped earlier. I could have given her a free sample!”

I am shopping in a big supermarket and am using their almost new service: you can scan your products while you’re shopping and then you just come to a till and pay.

Theoretically, it’s supposed to be fully automatic. You select a till, scan a code, pay with your card, and go home.

But as it’s pretty new and some people struggle with the touch screens, there’s a line where you wait for a cashier to explain to you how it works and kickstart the process.

A security cord has been installed around the tills so the shoppers can understand that they have to wait in line and cannot use the tills alone. Because there is a very limited number of cashiers here, there’s a pretty big queue.

I’m patiently waiting when I see some middle-aged guy coming near the open tills and waiting. He seems to want to use one alone but sees that he can’t and has to wait. He looks around. I’m looking at him. He sees me, and I see in his eyes that he KNOWS what is going on but is going to try to act as if he didn’t anyway.

A cashier comes, and I can see that she’s been here all day, can’t take it anymore, and will just accept anything just to not get disturbed. She asks who’s next.

The guy approaches and raises his hand, even though he’s one meter away from the queue containing fifteen people and can clearly see it.

Me: *Shouting* “Excuse me! It’s not your turn. First, it’s this old lady’s turn. Then it’s mine. Then it’s this woman with the two children, then it’s this pregnant woman’s turn, and then another five people, and after all of them, it’ll be yours.”

The guy turns pale and begins to stutter.

Customer: “N-n-no, let me explain to you. You’re all in the queue for till number one, see? You’re just next to it. But I’m not. I’m actually trying to get to the other tills, so I’m not in the same line.”

Me: “Listen, dude. You know exactly what’s going on. You’ve seen the queue, and you’ve just decided to ignore it because you think you’re more important or whatever. You’re not. And you’re going to get in line with everyone else!”

His face got red and he got to the back of the line. The grandma in front of me and the cashier thanked me.

I’m at the self-checkout of the grocery store I frequent often, a few months after our state instituted a law requiring a charge for store-provided plastic or paper bags. There have been signs in stores, notices on the radio, and other notifications about this change for months. The man at the station next to me has the self-checkout worker helping him finish his transaction, and I can’t help but overhear the conversation.

Customer: “But I don’t understand this last question.”

Worker: “There’s a bag fee, so you need to input how many bags you have if you’re using the store-provided bags instead of your own reusable ones.”

Customer: “I didn’t used to have to do this. Why is your store charging for bags?”

Worker: “It’s a new step, yes—”

Customer: *Interrupting* “But why? I didn’t used to have to do this.”

Worker: “There’s a new—”

Customer: “I’ve never had to do this before. Why is your store doing this?”

Worker: “The fee is—”

Customer: “I’ve never seen it before. I don’t understand why your store would do this.”

He keeps interrupting the worker as she tries to answer his questions. She can hardly get a word in edgewise. I interject, speaking firmly but not yelling.

Me: “It’s not the store. It’s state law. It has been for months and it’s the same in every store in the state.”

Customer: “Oh! Well, I didn’t use to have to pay for them.”

He leaves. The worker turns to me and gives me a little hug — which is totally fine; she knows me as a frequent customer.

Worker: “Thank you; he just wouldn’t listen to me, and I can’t be that blunt with customers!”

I was second in line at a liquor store recently. The customer in front of me had his back to me and the clerk was bagging his booze.

Customer: *Mumbles something indistinct*

Clerk: “Do you want this in a bag or against the side of your head?”

This was not an idle threat, as the sales counter was elevated, the clerk was tall, and the jerky customer was a bit on the short side. His head was definitely a tempting target. The customer lowered his head, grabbed the bag, and left. The clerk’s smile returned to her face.

Me: “Here’s my credit card… with no crude comment attached.”

Clerk: *Laughing* “You’re fine, hun. It’s just him that does that.”

I’m ringing up an older woman who is struggling with the card reader. This is something I’m used to, so I try to be patient with her.

Customer: “I can’t find the swiper!”

Me: “It’s right here, this groove in the side.” *Points it out*

Customer: “I can’t find it!”

Eventually, she does find it, but she swipes it the wrong way. I have to swipe the card for her, only for the machine to say it’s a chip card.

Me: “Okay, just put the chip into the reader. This little square right here.”

She tries, but the transaction is cancelled.

Customer: “It asked for my PIN, and I’ve never had to put in my PIN before!”

Me: “If you don’t want to put your PIN in, then just hit the green button.”

At this point, a line has formed.

Customer: “It didn’t work!”

Me: “We’ll try it again.”

Customer: “Can you do it for me just so it gets done?”

I have little choice but to put in her card. I also bag her groceries myself.

Customer: *Passive-aggressively* “Thanks for not helping! Have a good day!”

If that’s how I get thanked for everything I did, then I hope she never shows her ungrateful a** back in my line.