My first ever job was a seasonal worker at a Toys “R” Us. One evening, a young family comes up to my register, a mom’n’dad, and a little girl, probably about five. The mom places a Dora the Explorer backpack on the counter.

I go through the usual script about rewards programs and credit cards, then scan the barcode tag on the backpack, but it rings up as a Yu-Gi-Oh booster pack (a card game) for about $5.

Me: “Well… that’s not right.”

Up to this point, I haven’t even picked the bag up. She has placed it on the counter tag-side up. I assume it’s just a misplaced barcode. Some backpacks have a second barcode inside near the zipper, so I turn the bag to look for it.

That’s when I feel it. 

The backpack is heavy. Way too heavy.

I unzip it and flip it upside down. A pile of toys spills out across the counter. Still in customer-service mode, I look up at her.

Me: “Did you want to get all of these too?”

Customer: “No.”

Then, without missing a beat:

Customer: “I had no idea there were toys in there. My daughter must have put them in.”

The little girl immediately speaks up.

Daughter: “But you put those in there, Mommy!”

The mom stares straight at me like her child does not exist.

Customer: “I just want the backpack.”

Now it clicks. I look back at the barcode tag and run my thumbnail under the corner. It lifts way too easily. The sticker peels off clean, no residue at all, revealing another barcode underneath. I scan it.

Screen: “$49.99.”

She takes one look at the screen.

Customer: “I’m not paying that.”

She leaves empty-handed, dragging her husband and very honest daughter with her.

Me: “Are you paying by cash or card today, ma’am?”

Customer: “Card.” *She hands me a credit card.*

Me: “Ma’am, you need to sign the back of the card.”

Customer: “I’m not going to do that. I don’t want anyone to steal my signature.”

Me: “Ma’am, if you’re uncomfortable signing the card, you can write ‘See ID” on the back so that cashiers like me know to check your ID.”

Customer: “No, because all my information is on my ID!”

Me: “That’s… kinda the whole point, ma’am.”

Customer: “But then someone will steal that, too!”

Me: “Ma’am, the only person seeing your ID in this whole process is me.”

Customer: “Exactly!” *Narrows eyes.*

She ended up paying with cash.

I’m working a quiet shift at the grocery store with one other cashier, a teenage girl at the next till. There’s hardly anyone in the building when a man walks up and stops between our two lanes.

He looks at her, then at me.

Customer: “No way I’m having a brown girl ring through my groceries.”

For a second, I honestly think I misheard him. I grew up in a big city until I was sixteen, and we moved to a small town. This is the first time I’ve ever heard such a vocally racist person (never witnessed anything like this in the city), so it really boggled my mind!

Me: “…Excuse me?”

Customer: “I said I’m not letting her touch my stuff.”

Me: “Then I can’t help you.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “If you won’t be served by my coworker, you won’t be served here.”

He opens his mouth like he’s about to argue. I don’t wait. I turn off my light, step away from my register, and grab my jacket.

Me: “You’ll need to go to a different store.”

My coworker just shrugs and smiles. She’s obviously used to this kind of behavior, sadly.

He stands there in the middle of the checkout lanes with his cart, suddenly having no cashiers at all.

In a store in deep rural Alberta.

The next nearest grocery store was… not walking distance.

The look on his face when I pointed this out was great. The look on his face when my coworker pointed out that she is, in fact, First Nations, was even better.

Had a woman come up to the counter with a bag of bird seed and a coupon that said, in big blue wording, that it was for a different size bag, a different brand, and a different kind of seed altogether.

I explained, but she said:

Customer: “Yes, but I don’t need that kind of bird seed, I need this kind.”

Me: “That’s not how coupons work. You can’t get the discount on another item.”

Customer: “But I should, because I don’t need that kind!”

Me: “I can’t help you, sorry.”

Customer: “You can change it, now that you know I need that kind!”

Me: “No, ma’am, I can’t.”

Customer: “Yes, you can, because I need that kind!”

Me: “And I need this conversation to end, but neither of us is getting what we want.”

I totally got a verbal warning from my boss for that, but it DID end the conversation…

I was working at Bath & Body Works, and we had a bunch of promotions going on. The sale signs would say things like, “Buy 3, get 2 free or Buy 2, get 1 free,” and then in small print, “Save up to $xx.Xx.”

You could mix and match items in certain groups, and some of the items were the same price, but not all of them. The cheaper items in any given group became the free ones. On top of this, we had coupons; some were XX% off, some were spend a certain amount, get an item free. Only one coupon per transaction could be used, but we would do separate transactions per customer so they could use multiple coupons. We really tried to help customers get the most bang for the buck.

One day, in the middle of the Christmas rush, this lady comes up to the counter with three bags of stuff and dumps it out on the counter. She holds up a handful of coupons.

Customer: “If I have these coupons, and the sign says save up to $XX if I buy three of these, then how many sets of this and that do I have to buy for my total savings to equal $XX, including the coupons savings?”

I just stared at her.

Me: *Laughing nervously.* “That’s like a SAT-level math problem.”

Customer: *Deadly serious.* “So? I assume you graduated from high school? I want to check various combinations of purchase groups for the best savings, so wake up!”

Me: “Let me get my manager, ma’am.”

She rolls her eyes as I call him over. She asks him the same question when he arrives.

Manager: “Ma’am, the prices of all items, and the discounts they carry, are all labelled clearly. Feel free to take a seat at the café and figure it out for yourself. We don’t have the time to figure all of that out for you.”

Customer: “It’s your job to tell me what the best deals are!”

Manager: “No, that’s your job. Our job is to sell it to you once you’ve figured it out.”

Customer: “You should get your d*** calculators out and do this for me or it’s bad customer service!”

Manager: “Ma’am, you need to realize that we’re not doing that for you. You expect us to figure out complex math problems, but you can’t figure that out?”

Customer: “…This is terrible customer service! I won’t be coming back!” *Storms away.*

Manager: *To me.* “I’m no good at math either, but I think that’s the correct answer!”