I am shopping in a small store. They are selling flower seeds to support a charity. To get these, you must ask at the till — no idea why. I am patiently waiting for the elderly man in front of me at the checkout.

Man: “I couldn’t find everything I was looking for. Could you help me?”

Cashier: “Sure thing! What were you looking for?”

Man: “Some of those flowers for the [Charity] effort.”

Cashier: “Oh, those are here at the till. How many bags did you want?”

The cashier holds up a bag.

Man: “Bags?! I wanted flowers!”

Cashier: “These are flower seeds: you plant them and flowers grow.”

Man: “This is bulls***! I’ve never heard of such a thing! You advertise flowers! Why won’t you give me g**d*** flowers?!”

The cashier starts calling the manager, but I interrupt.

Me: “Those are baby flowers, sir.”

The manager ended up coming over, but the man seemed to have finally caught on. He bought one bag and left. I heard he later got blacklisted from the store because of the way he shouted at that poor employee. Good riddance!

While on vacation in a different city, my family and I decided to buy a biscuit that the city is known for. While I’ve encountered plenty of upselling strategies (who hasn’t?), this was an… interesting new one.

Me: *Holding a gift box to the cashier* “Just this, please.”

Cashier: “Would you like to buy a second one? It’s only MOP70 more.”

Me: “No, thanks.”

Cashier: “But your purchase will come out to MOP500, and two boxes cost MOP570. You’re losing out!”

Other Employee: “It’s true, you know. I can help you get another box, if you like.”

Because the product happened to be the most popular, a stack of them was also on the counter next to the cashier, with a price tag reading “MOP375” that could be clearly seen from where I was standing.

Me: “I’m still going to decline.”

Cashier: “But it’s not worth it to buy just one box!”

This back-and-forth went on for a bit until my father cut in.

Dad: “Actually, forget it. We have a bus to catch, so we’re in a hurry. We’re just not going to buy anything.”

Cashier: “Okay, one box it is, then. Tell you what: we’ll even give you the employee discount.”

Interestingly, the total after the discount was the exact amount on the price tag.

I was once the only person working during a really busy day during the prep season for a holiday, and I did my best to greet every customer, ring them up in a timely manner, and wish them a good day. But I had about six people who wanted me to walk them to the items they wanted, three people who wanted me to do their shopping for them, and about a dozen elderly customers who couldn’t walk very far or very fast, so in between them and the line of eight at the register, I missed a few customers.

I got a phone call soon after the busiest part of the crowd calmed down, and the lady on the other end wanted to complain about me, not knowing I was the one who was at the register.

Lady: “She greeted only the white customers and only wished the white customers a good day, and then she made me use the self-checkout!”

I worked in a predominantly white neighborhood; every day I got about 90% white customers and 10% other ethnicities. We also had two self-checkouts and only one employee, so a lot of customers chose the self-checkouts. I never forced anyone to use them, but I always opened them up as an option if the line got long.

Me: “My apologies, ma’am. There’s only one employee right now, and over thirty customers to help. I didn’t mean to let anyone slip through the cracks. And race was definitely not a factor in choosing who to greet, I swear. I simply did not have the opportunity to greet every single person.”

Lady: “Then it’s your fault for being the only employee! You need to treat every customer like they’re the most important person, and you really made me not want to come back!”

Me: “Again, I apologize, ma’am, but one of our employees died two weeks ago, so we’re short-staffed at the moment.”

Lady: *Quietly* “Don’t let it happen again, or I’ll call corporate!”

A few years ago, I was heading to class to take a final in my music history class and forgot a scantron (a form where you fill in the bubbles for multiple-choice tests). I stopped by the college bookstore, grabbed a scantron, and ran up to the counter. This is when I met “her”. “Her” was a woman in her mid-fifties with wrinkles on her face that can only come with holding a constant scowl on your face for decades.

When I pulled out my card, she pointed to a sign that said there was a $10 minimum. Yes, $10. The scantron was about twenty cents. I can totally get a $5 minimum, but $10? Come on.

Well, I didn’t have any change in my pocket, but there was a “take a penny, leave a penny” jar. So, I reached over and grabbed a couple of dimes someone was kind enough to leave.

Employee: *Putting her hand over the jar* “You can leave change, but you can’t take change.”

At this point, I figured I could either get really upset or play the game she wanted.

Me: “I understand. There are a few more items I still need.”

I proceeded to go the the furthest corners of the store and pick up about $200 worth of small items from the highest, lowest, and most inconvenient spots in the store. The entire time, “Her” had a wicked smile on her face like she’d won.

I walked up to the counter with my basket, paid, and signed for the items. Then…

Me: “I’d like to return everything but the scantron please”.

She was livid! People don’t usually yell at me, but she completely lost it. She ended up calling the campus police and the other workers.

When the campus police arrived, they informed her that what I had done was completely legal. “Her” couldn’t handle it but had to refund me for everything but the scantron.

Campus Officer: *Smirking* “Please don’t do that again.”

Me: “Yes, sir!”

I was about twenty minutes late for the final, but I ended up making an A.

I am an assistant manager at a budget store beside the quiet end of the busiest street in town. One day, while I’m helping my cashier check people out during a rush, I hear a question that almost always leads to suffering.

Customer: “Are these really $1.75? Everything around it was $8, so it looks like a really good deal.”

I glance over to the other register and recognize the woman asking the question. She’s been a problem almost every time she comes in, and she’s holding a pair of Marc Ecko slides that I know aren’t on sale. I see where this is going. I’m still ringing up customers when the shoes get scanned. My cashier gives her the bad news.

Cashier: “They’re ringing up at $8. Do you still want them?”

Customer: “But that’s not what the label said where they were hanging; that should be $1.75.”

She goes from asking to telling real quick — always a GREAT sign that this is going to turn to s***. 

I’m called upon to check the price on the shelf. I finish ringing up my customer and have my cashier put the problem customer’s order on hold so she can ring people up until I get back.

I see the problem immediately.

Customer: “See?” *Points at the label* “They should be $1.75.”

Me: *Bewildered* “Ma’am, this label is for a different product entirely.”

These shoes were hanging from a peg. Any time we get new products, we either scrape off the old label from the peg or, if there aren’t too many old labels on it, we just put the new one on top. This section was redone earlier in the morning by the store manager.

Customer: “But the price says $1.75.”

Me: “Ma’am, this label is for dental floss. New labels were put up today; someone must have moved the label for these shoes.”

Customer: “So, how much are they, then?”

Me: “The Marc Eckos are $8.”

I suspect this woman saw the two-year-old floss label peeking out and removed the shoes’ label before checking out. This kind of thing has happened with her before, but we don’t have cameras, so we haven’t caught her yet.

Customer: “But that’s false advertising! You have to sell them for $1.75!”

Me: “No, ma’am, the product advertised by this label is a ninety-pack of little flossers, as is clearly written. These shoes cost $8.”

Customer: “So, can I have them for $1.75?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “How much are they, then?”

I can’t believe I have to repeat myself.

Me: “Those shoes are $8.”

Customer: “But that’s false advertising. The label says $1.75.”

I might be wasting time here, but she has more stuff in her basket than anyone who was in line. I figure that if I get stuck in an endless loop with this woman, nobody else will have to wait nearly as long as they would if she just finished checking out.

My answer doesn’t change.

Me: “That’s right, but the label also says these shoes are dental floss.”

Customer: “So…”

She pauses, perhaps realizing she won’t get anywhere with this.

Customer: “How much are the shoes?” 

Me: “The shoes are $8.”

Customer: “But that’s false advertising!”

Me: “It would be if this was a ninety-pack of flossers. These are shoes, ma’am. You can still buy them, but they cost $8.”

She gives up.

Customer: “Fine, I’ll take them.”

When I head back up, my cashier asks me what happened.

Me: “The label was for floss, not shoes. We can’t bring it down.”

I helped clear out the last few people in line, and I could hear the woman complaining to her son about our “false advertising” as they finished checking out.

I think they filed a complaint the next day, but I’d already reported the ordeal to my boss. Corporate was on my side, and I never saw that customer again.