I work in a $2 store that has pretty much everything you could ever need at relatively low prices. We also have a $5 minimum on EFTPOS transactions, meaning that customers have to pay in cash for small transactions. Most people are very understanding about this and either decide to leave the items or go and grab something else. We have a lot of little items that range from about $2 to $5 on the counter for this reason.

One day, a lady comes up to me with a foil tray, generally used for barbecues. I ring it up and the total is $4.50.

Customer: “I’ll pay on card, please.”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but we have a $5 minimum for EFTPOS. If you like, there are several—”

Customer: *Interrupting* “What? That’s ridiculous! I don’t have any cash on me! Look!”

She waves her purse in my face.

Me: “I’m really sorry, ma’am, but there’s nothing I can do as it is store policy. As I was saying, a lot of the smaller items on the counter are very cheap—”

Customer: “This is unacceptable! How can you expect everyone to carry cash on them? Get me your manager!”

The line is beginning to back up, and there are now five or six people waiting. I call my coworker to help me on the other register and grab my manager, quickly explaining the situation.

Manager: “Good morning, ma’am. How can I help you today?”

Customer: “This lady here says you have a $5 minimum on EFTPOS transactions.”

Manager: “Yes, that is correct.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t have cash, so I need to pay by card. You need to do this for me.”

Manager: “I’m really sorry, but we do have a $5 minimum on EFTPOS transactions, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. If you like, I can—”

As he’s speaking, the lady spins on her heel and walks out without a word, leaving her tray on the counter.

Me: “Well, that is one way to make an exit!”

An older lady comes up to my register with a lot of groceries. As I am scanning her items, a young male customer who comes in every morning to get an energy drink gets in line behind her. 

Female Customer: *To me* “You remind me of my grandchildren!”

I’m unsure of how to take this.

Me: “Oh, well, thank you.”

Female Customer: “You know what I like to do with my grandchildren?”

She leans in over the conveyor belt and says with a wink:

Female Customer: “Spank them.”

I am so taken aback, I don’t even know how to respond. I look at the guy behind her, and his eyes go wide open, too. 

I am stammering, trying to think of some way to make this conversation appropriate, but I can’t think of anything. The old lady then turns to the guy behind her:

Female Customer: “You’ll help me spank him, won’t you?”

Male Customer: *Completely red-faced* “Oh, um, I don’t know, yeah, I guess.”

I was so taken aback and embarrassed by the whole conversation that I didn’t even say anything for the rest of the transaction. After the lady left, the other customer — who was apparently okay with helping an old lady spank another young guy — refused to look at me for his whole transaction. I never saw either of them ever again.

Related:
Thanks, But No Spanks

It’s my second day as a bookseller at a large chain bookstore. Right now, we have an event where, when a customer makes a purchase, they can also buy a small paperback children’s book, which the store keeps (with a gift receipt) and then donates to children in need. We’re supposed to ask customers if they would like to donate a book to a child in our county.

I’ve just finished training on the register and a customer approaches. My manager tells me to check him out, so I do.

Me: “Okay, your total is [total]. Would you like to donate a child to… Wait…”

The customer chuckles, and I take a moment to figure out where that sentence went wrong and correct it before finishing the transaction.

Later, I tell my mom about it.

Mom: “There were a few times when you were younger where I would’ve liked to donate a child!” 

Thanks, Mom.

I’m ringing a customer’s items up when she hands me a [High-End Designer] shirt.

Customer: “This shirt doesn’t have a tag but it’s $10.99.”

Me: “I highly doubt that since it’s a [High-End Designer] shirt, but I can look it up for you in the system.”

I look up the item via a generic list of codes we have at the register and it says it’s $20.99.

Customer: “I’m not going to pay that much; that isn’t the correct price.”

Me: “That’s fine. I will look on the floor for something similar.”

Customer: “I looked already; you’re not going to find anything!”

I go onto the floor, and sure enough, I find the same item in a different color. While heading back to the register, I watch as the customer takes a tag from her hoodie pocket and places it between the clothes like it was there this whole time.

Me: “The shirt is $24.99.”

Customer: “No, it’s not.”

To humor her, I take her random tag and scan it to show her it isn’t the real tag and continue to ring up her items. She looks confused at the total.

Customer: “I thought the shirt was $20.99? You looked it up in the computer.”

Me: “No, ma’am, it is $24.99. That’s a generic code to use if I cannot find the item. I wanted to make sure you got the right price.”

She sighed, paid for her items, and left.

Related:
Shirty With The Truth, Part 2
Shirty With The Truth

During the health crisis, I am grocery shopping for the elderly and vulnerable. This is through a charity that gives me a prepaid credit card to buy the groceries. I then collect a cheque from the infirm and deliver it to the charity to pay off the card.

The credit cards are old-fashioned and don’t have chips so I have to slide them in the machine and sign the store receipt.

One time, the cashier asks to see the card. She looks at the back.

Cashier: “The card isn’t signed.”

Me: “No. Well, it’s a prepaid card.”

Cashier: “Right, but it’s not signed. How do I know it’s yours?”

Me: “Umm. Well, I volunteer shop for [Charity]?”

I pull an explanatory letter from the charity out of my wallet — needed when shopping for multiple families so I can get more than the allotted supplies, like toilet paper.

Me: “They fill the cards and give them to the volunteers. When they’re out of money, we return them and they refill them again. We can’t sign them because we don’t know who will get them next.”

Cashier: “Sorry, but it’s a card that’s not signed. I can’t accept it.”

There was a grumpy line forming behind me and we had only scanned the first of three family orders I was buying, and it takes a bit of time to process each.

I paid with my debit card and my volunteer coordinator paid me back with her petty cash. I avoid that cashier now as it’s hard to lend hundreds of dollars to a charity for several days while unemployed.