For the fourth Saturday in a row, I am the only cashier on duty and I have a ridiculously long line. We are badly understaffed in the first place, and we had both a call-out and a no-call, no-show. I’m doing the best I can. 

A group of people comes to my register with three large items, so I expect it to be a fairly simple transaction. It is, until one of the men holds up two credit cards. One is red and one is blue.

Customer: “Pick one.”

Me: “What?”

Customer: “One is mine; one is hers.”

He nods to the woman who I presume is his wife.

Customer: “Pick the one I pay with.”

Me: “Sir… I literally don’t care.”

Customer: “Pick one!”

I glance at the line, hoping he’ll take a hint, but he’s insisting I select the card he uses. In the interest of getting him out of my life, I pick the red card.

Customer: “D***! That one’s mine!”

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Next Saturday, I’m considering calling in sick.

I once had a customer attempt to give me some pennies so I could give them back a whole bill after I’d already counted out their heap of change. My till was already closed, and I’d been instructed not to do such exchanges in that case, so I declined.

Customer: “You just don’t know how to do it, do you? Can’t even do basic math.”

He came back regularly, and every time, he would wait until I’d counted out his change and closed the till and then try to give me a nickel or such to round it out. The whole time, he’d smirk or mutter under his breath about how stupid I was.

I explained the situation to my boss, and he said to go ahead and swap out the coins for a larger bill. The next time the customer came through my line, his change was, of course, a heap of coins. I waited for him to offer me the two pennies to swap out for a dollar bill, but he just smirked at me.

I closed the drawer, and a split second later, he threw two pennies at me. But I was prepared. I whipped out a dollar bill and slid it toward him.

Me: “Here’s your change, sir. Have a nice day.”

The look on his face was priceless. He never came through my line again.

I was an assistant manager at a store and was covering the registers on a slow weekday morning. A woman came in and handed me her shopping list. This was a store that sold things for the home, food, and wine.

Most of the things on her list were wine, so I smiled and said:

Me: “You can meet the head of the beverage department in the beverage section.”

She rolled her eyes.

Customer: “I know cashiers aren’t very smart, sweetie, but there’s a reason you’re on that side of the counter and I’m on this side of the counter. I need you to go retrieve these items for me.”

I’d gone into the store to get some sundry items. No self-checkouts were available, for whatever reason. No biggies — I went to the manned checkout. The operator scanned the item and I tapped my card. The machine told me that the process had not completed correctly, so I tapped again.

Checkout Operator: “Don’t worry; it has gone through.”

She pulled the receipt out and started writing on it.

Me: “Yes, thank you. I don’t—”

Checkout Operator: “See, it’s like a woman.”

Me: “Yes indeed. I don’t need—”

Checkout Operator: “See? It’s temperamental.”

Me: “Ahaha. Thank you, I don’t need my—”

Checkout Operator: “Temperamental. Like a woman, see?”

Me: “Yes, indeed. Hahaha. Thank you very much. I won’t need my receipt.”

Checkout Operator: “Oh, okay. Why don’t—”

Me: “Thank you very much, bye.”

Me: “Your total comes to [total].”

Customer: “I don’t have that on me right now. I’ll just come back to pay.”

Me: “All right. I’ll keep th—”

I cut off as the lady just picks up the items and attempts to walk out.

Me: “Ma’am! You can’t leave with the items. You have to leave them here!”

Customer: “Oh, it’s fine! My son is a cop!”

Me: “That’s lovely, but the items can’t leave the store if they’re not paid for.”

Customer: “My son is a cop! I’m not going to just not pay! I’ll come back!”

Me: “Okay, I’m sure that’s true, but I still can’t let you leave with unpaid merchandise. If I let you do it, then I have to let everyone else do it and most people wouldn’t come back.”

Customer: “Well, I’m not most people! My son is a cop!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I understand, but I’m not willing to lose my job over this.”

Customer: “FINE!”

She jammed her debit card into the machine angrily.

Seriously?!