A local convenience store has two registers. One has orange signs all over it that say, “NO CHECKS.” The other at the opposite end of the counter has green signs that say, “CHECKS ACCEPTED HERE.”

I walk in to get a drink and a snack and find a couple somewhere in their fifties standing at the register that says, “NO CHECKS.” The attendant is from somewhere in India, and the customers are white.

Male Customer: “I know you know how to speak English because you’ve been doing it the whole time we’ve been here.”

Attendant: “Yes, sir, we just can’t—”

Female Customer: *Waving a checkbook in his face* “Then let us pay!”

Attendant: “Yes, ma’am, but this register will not take checks.”

He gestures to the signs all over the register he is standing at and then over to the other register.

Attendant: “But we can over there.”

Male Customer: “I’m about to call the police and tell them you’re refusing us service!

I step up.

Me: “Hey, you’re paying with a check?”

Female Customer: “Yes!” *Slaps her checkbook on the countertop* “He will not take our money!”

Me: “Maybe because you aren’t paying attention.”

Male Customer: “Excuse me?”

Me: “If you’d take five seconds to look around, you’d see that the signs at this register say they can’t take checks, but that register is decorated with all kinds of things saying that they can take checks.”

The couple looks back and forth at the registers and then steps over to the other register. The attendant moves to the other register and gives me a small nod of thanks.

Male Customer: “Well? What are you still doing here?”

Me: “Just making sure you’re being respectful until you’re gone.”

Male Customer: “You’re not respecting us!”

Me: “You haven’t earned it. It’s his job to be polite to you regardless of how awful you are, but I can be as honest as I want.”

The man turns his back to me, but he doesn’t say anything else. The attendant still talks to them with a smile, thanks them for their business, and wishes them well. The man tries to check me with his shoulder as they walk toward the exit, but he misses. He turns back at the door and glares.

Attendant: “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to talk to customers like that.”

Me: “I worked at [Large Retailer] for years. I’m sure I can relate.”

The attendant gave me 20% off my purchase that day, and now every time I come in, no matter who is behind the register, they all know me as “the girl who talked back.”

I work at a bulk shopping store. Self-checkout has been replaced with what they call “express” — the same machines but we scan all your groceries by hand. Due to store busyness, a coworker of mine is directing people to open registers because no one can actually pay attention.

Coworker #1: “Next member, please; the middle register is open.”

Customer: “…”

Coworker #1: “Ma’am, the next register is open.”

Customer: “What?”

Coworker #1: “We’ve got an open register for you just there.” *Points to an open employee*

Customer: “Speak up next time; I’m tone-deaf!”

[Coworker #1] gave a noncommital “huh” just to end the interaction, which apparently this person took as laughing at their condition.

This began a tirade, highlights of which included yelling at [Coworker #1] for “discrimination” and yelling that he should be fired for “making fun of them.”

The customer then moved to the open lane and continues to complain to [Coworker #2] about [Coworker #1]’s “attitude problem”, saying again that he should be fired. Not to be finished so easily, though, the customer tracked down a manager, again demanding that [Coworker #1] be fired and threatening to “sue the store for their discrimination.” They finally left the building, huffing the whole way out.

I’m still waiting for that lawsuit, but luckily, they haven’t been back yet.

A customer comes up to me with a lottery scratch card.

Customer: “Hi. My grandma bought me some scratchcards for my birthday from here, and this one says I won $10,000. Is she pulling a prank?”

Me: *Scanning the card* “No, she isn’t! This is a winning card. Congratulations!”

Customer: “Wow… so, what happens now?”

Me: “We’re not authorized to deal with that much money, so you’d need to contact the lottery guys. Their number is on the back of the card.”

He thanks me, and normally that would be noteworthy enough. A few days later, he’s back.

Customer: “Hi. Do you remember me?”

Me: “I do, and congratulations!”

Customer: “Thanks! So, I used about $3,000 to pay my grandma’s credit card bill, but I have $7,000 left. Could I use it to pay for customers using food stamps?”

Me: “I… I’m not following.”

Customer: “My grandma and I were on EBT, uh… food stamps for a while, and it was rough. We’re a bit better off now, especially now that the credit card is paid off! I want to help others on food stamps. I was kinda hoping I could, like, camp out today and offer to pay for the groceries of your customers on food stamps.”

I was NOT expecting that, and so I have to call my manager. My manager’s response:

Manager: “Well, we can’t stop you.”

And so Mr. Scratchcard does just that! He hangs out at the small café near the checkout lanes with a coffee and a book, and whenever a customer comes by with an EBT card, he offers to pay for their groceries himself. There is confusion, smiles, tears, and hugs.

He is there all day, and at the end of the day, my manager approaches him.

Manager: “You’re going to go down in memory at this place for a very long time.”

Customer: “I still have over a thousand dollars left, though! Oh, well…”

Mr. Scratchcard was back a week later to finish up the rest.

That was almost twenty years ago now, and it remains the single kindest act I have ever seen.

My store used to use cards with a barcode to identify members. Over the last several years, we have switched to using phone numbers instead. A couple comes to my register, and the wife holds out her card. I scan it and the computer says, “ERROR: NO ACCOUNT FOUND.”

Me: “Oh, looks like your card was deactivated. Our system has been phasing out the cards for a while now. I’ll have to use your phone number.”

Wife: *Holds out the card again* “No, it’s here.”

I could argue this, but to please her, I scan the card again.

Me: “Sorry, your card has been deactivated. No worries, though; you still have an account.”

Husband: “Why is it not working?” 

Me: “[Store] has been phasing out the scan cards for a while now. Some cards were immediately deactivated, but some have been hanging on. But you still have a membership under your phone number.”

Husband: “Okay.” *Gives their phone number*

Me: “Yup, there you are! You can throw away those key cards.”

Wife: “So, we need new cards?”

Me: “We aren’t using the cards anymore — only the phone number.”

Wife: “But I have a card.”

Husband: “It’s fine. We got it.”

I scan their purchases and they pay, the wife glaring at me the whole time.

Wife: “How will we get the discounts without an account?”

Me: “You do have an account; it’s just under your phone number instead of on the card.”

Wife: “We were just here last week, and it worked. What did you do?”

Husband: “Nothing! Stop fussing!”

Me: “Have a nice day. Thank you for shopping at [Store].”

They leave, and I think that is the end of it. Unfortunately, the woman comes back a few moments later. She thrusts her card in my face, interrupting a current transaction.

Wife: “I want a new one!”

Me: “Ma’am. We do not issue cards anymore. It is only your phone number.”

Husband: *Coming in after her* “Leave the girl alone!”

Wife: “Not until she gives me a new card!”

Husband: *Rolling his eyes* “She already gave it to me. I have them, okay?”

Wife: *To her husband* “Good!” *To me* “You should be fired for your behavior!”

I said nothing. The husband gave me an apologetic look.

I work in a restaurant in a hospital. We have a glass counter with some sandwiches, some cakes, and a few other things. I’m white but I am fluent in Spanish thanks to being interested in the language in high school.

For the last few weeks I have seen a family (mother, three kids) come by at almost the same time every day, so they obviously have a very sick relative, I am guessing. The mother and kids speak only Spanish to each other, and the kids always run into the restaurant and stare at the cakes through the glass before their mom grabs them, and they end up sharing the cheapest meal we offer.

Today, I hear the kids talking about the chocolate cake (in Spanish) and how good it looks. The mother comes up with her usual tray of pizza and a soda cup. The cup is meant for one person, but I always look away when I see all three kids sharing the Coke. But this time, I say:

Me: *In Spanish* “Hi, ma’am. We need to sell all of our chocolate cake today. Would you like three free slices?”

She looks shocked — but not because of what I said but because I said it in Spanish.

Customer: “You can speak Spanish?!”

Me: “Yes, a little! I love the language! Would you like those chocolate slices? On the house?”

She looked at me long and hard and then started tearing up. She nodded a little, and I rang her up for her pizza and soda with three free chocolate slices and a staff discount.

The smiles on those three little faces were worth it.

I don’t know what that family was going through, but those kids were always so well-behaved, and it was the least I could do to help them through a rough time.