I have an Asian coworker who is working at the cashier lane next to mine. Her line of customers is currently shorter than mine. I spot a couple approaching our lines, and they’re about to join the shorter line when the woman speaks up.

Female Customer: “Oh, not that line.”

Male Customer: “It’s the shorter line.”

Female Customer: “Yeah, but that line has a [slur for Asian people] on it. Let’s take this lane.”

I hear them, and I know my coworker hears them, too. Once I get to scanning the items of the racist couple, both lines have died down, and my coworker isn’t currently serving any customers.

Me: “Sorry, I am having trouble scanning this item. Let me call my manager.”

Female Customer: “Ugh. Fine, but hurry!”

To their surprise, I call over my Asian coworker. To add to their surprise, I call her over in Spanish. To their extreme surprise, my Asian coworker responds in Spanish.

Me: *In Spanish* “Can you help me? But… slowly?”

Coworker: *In Spanish* “Sure. Is the item really not scanning, or are you just screwing with them?”

Me: *In Spanish* “Just screwing.”

She comes over, and while we have no other customers other than these bigots to delay, we have a casual conversation about non-work-related topics while we pretend to look at the screen.

Female Customer: “What’s wrong?! Why is this taking so long?!”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, my manager is trying to resolve your issue.”

Female Customer: *To my Asian coworker* “Are we sure you’re the manager? You just look like a regular checkout clerk to me.”

My coworker ignores her and pretends to press some more buttons on my screen.

Female Customer: *To me* “Does she even speak English?”

Me: “She speaks five languages, actually, including English. She just doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Female Customer: “You think you can talk to customers that way, huh? Call for the store manager; I will be talking to him about you both!”

Me: “The store manager is out to lunch, but the owner of the whole store, Mr. Sok, just got back from visiting his family in Cambodia, and I’m sure he’d love to talk to you!”

I can see her pause as her bigoted brain cells try to process that the owner of the store is an immigrant. She overcomes the disconnect of weighing up her racism against wanting to get us into trouble and has us call over the owner.

Mr. Sok (name changed) heads on over and hears the customer’s complaint. It is then that my multilingual Asian coworker finally speaks English.

Coworker: “Please note that this was after she said she didn’t want to use my checkout lane because of the [Asian slur] working it.”

Owner: “Is this true?”

Female Customer: “She’s lying!”

Owner: “Ah, then you won’t mind me pulling the camera footage to confirm?”

Female Customer: *Pauses* “Ugh! You filthy immigrants shouldn’t be allowed to buy up American companies!”

With that, she storms out, dragging her embarrassed-looking husband behind her, leaving behind their groceries. 

Owner: “American company? The store literally has my name on it!”

I am a cashier. The PIN pad has very simple instructions with very few words.

Older Customer: “Why isn’t this working?!”

Me: “It looks like you’re canceling the transaction. After putting in your PIN, you need to confirm.”

Older Customer: “I am!”

Me: “You confirm by hitting the green button on the left.”

Older Customer: “Well, I’m hitting red! On the right!”

Me: “Well… don’t?”

Older Customer: “It’s still not working!”

Me: “Sir, please press the green button on the left!”

Older Customer: “Your instructions should be clearer!” *Presses red*

In Ontario, they have done away with plastic shopping bags. I’m in a dollar store with my six-year-old daughter, and as always, I’ve left my reusable shopping bags in the car.

Cashier: “You can take a box from the pile at the front.”

I send my daughter to pick a box. She picks one with a picture of a toy on it, and it is bigger than needed. I don’t care. The cashier does.

Cashier: *To my daughter, in a rude tone* “That box is too big! Pick the one beside it.”

[Daughter]’s face falls, and she looks so crestfallen. She puts back the box she picked, does not pick another one, and just walks over to me, all sad.

I get the momma bear look on my face and stare at the cashier, who goes over and picks up the smaller box. When she sees my face, she puts down the small box.

Me: *To my daughter* “Go pick the box you want.”

She happily skipped over and got it. The cashier said nothing for the rest of the transaction.

When we got home, the box was turned into a house for one of [Daughter]’s toys.

The moral of the story: let a kid pick whatever box they want… or give out shopping bags again.

Our store policy is to ask everyone for their ID no matter the age. A seventy-something-old woman comes up to my register.

Customer: “Hello, how is your night going?”

Me: “Fine thank you. Oh, ma’am, uh… may I see your ID real quick please?”

Customer: “I don’t have my ID. I left it at home; can’t you tell I’m old enough!”

Me: “Yes ma’am, I can but, it is the store’s policy to see everyone’s ID for alcohol and tobacco purchases.”

Customer: *Getting visibly irritated.* “Fine, if I go home and get my d*** ID will you sell me the wine.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, it is 9:50 pm, you have ten minutes till the store is closed, are you sure you can make it?”

Customer: “I can make it! Just shut up about the d*** ID!”

She leaves and fast forward ten minutes later the store is closed, the drawers have been pulled and I’m now mopping as I see this lady coming back up to the door.

Customer: “Hey! Let me in!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, the store closed at 10 PM.”

I move closer and put my phone on the glass door so she can see that it is 10:10 PM.

Customer: “No! I made it back before ten! Let me in!”

She pulls on the locked door.

Customer: *Screaming.* “You think you’re god but you’re not! You’re just a pipsqueak!” 

She storms off to her car. God carried on mopping.

It’s a busy day at the grocery store, and I am running super late for my break. My manager has come over to force my line to end at the last current customer, and I am finally free to walk to the break room and have something to eat.

I get no more than a few feet away from my checkout when a woman in another line grabs my arm.

Customer: “Stop wandering around and get on a checkout! Look how busy you are!”

Me: “Ma’am, please don’t touch me. Also, I literally just clocked out for my break.”

Customer: “A break? A break?! Look how busy it is! They shouldn’t let you take a break until all the customers have been served!”

Me: “Please take any staffing issues you have up with my manager. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

Customer: “Don’t walk away from me! Serve me right now!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am clocked out. It would actually be against the law for me to serve you right now.”

Customer: “I don’t care! Break the law, or I’ll break you!”

Me: “Wow, first you touch me, and then you threaten violence? Yeah, that’s enough to get you kicked out.”

I see a line of shocked faces from several nearby customers.

Me: “You all heard that, right?”

Customers: “We did!”

Me: “You’re taking up my valuable break time, but I will be more than happy to spend it watching security escorting your entitled rude a** out of the store. So… am I going or am I staying?”

The customer, obviously not expecting my confidence — not to mention the support of nearby customers — backs down, steps back in line, and looks at the floor.

Me: “Wise choice.” 

I took my break. I still reported the incident to my manager, who looked at the CCTV later and took an image of the customer in case we have an issue with them again.