I’m a self-checkout attendant. When I’m not helping customers, I’m making sure the checkout stations are clean and have enough bags. We’re slammed and I’m bouncing around like a ping-pong ball, scrambling to refill bags in between helping customers. My sole coworker goes to help a scowling woman.

Customer: “She ignored me!”

Coworker: “Hm?”

Customer: “That girl, running around with the bags! I needed help and she ignored me! She’s focused too much on the bags and not enough on the customers!”

My coworker managed to pacify her and send her on her way before coming back to tell me about it. I’m sorry you had to wait an extra ten seconds for my coworker because you slipped my notice?

I’m in line at a convenience store that is known in my town to have an extremely slow cash register, and they have only one cashier, no matter how busy they are. Processing any transaction takes several minutes. If it weren’t right next door to my work, I would never go there because of the wait times, even when the store is empty.

I’m third in line one day, buying something for lunch, and I overhear the woman at the front say she needs to pay for her items in three transactions. I’m filled with dread because this will cause the ten minutes I expected to wait to take twenty.

Lady: “I need these items [which include some sort of alcohol] in the first transaction.”

Cashier: “Sure. I just need to see ID.”

Lady: “I’m seventy-eight years old! Why do you need to see ID?”

Cashier: “Our system requires me to scan the ID for every restricted purchase. I can not continue the transaction without it.”

Lady: “Oh, okay. Let me look.”

She begins rummaging through her giant purse for her ID. It takes her almost five minutes to find her ID so the cashier can process the transaction. When her order is finished, she throws the card, receipt, and ID into her purse.

Lady: “For the next transaction, I need two packs of [Brand #1] cigarettes and these items.”

The cashier rings everything up.

Cashier: “Okay, I just need to scan your ID again.”

Lady: “But you just saw it. I’m seventy-eight years old. Why do you need it again?”

Cashier: “Because our system requires I scan the ID for every purchase. It doesn’t know that you’re the same person.”

Lady: “Oh, okay, just give me a minute to pull it back out.”

She again starts rummaging through her purse to find the ID she just had. Fortunately, it only takes her about three minutes this time. The cashier finalizes that transaction and gives her her change. The lady slowly counts her change before dumping it into her purse. Then, she decides to organize her shopping bags in the cart before looking over the items around the till.

The man in front of me dumps his items on the floor and storms out. The woman in front of him politely asks if there is another cashier available. The lady checking out doesn’t seem fazed at all by this as she continues to hem and haw over the candy and snacks around the counter.

Eventually…

Lady: “Okay. For the third order, I guess I just need one pack of [Brand #2] cigarettes. None of the snacks are appealing to me right now.”

Cashier: “Sure. I just need to see your ID.”

Lady: “Why do you need to see my ID? I’m seventy-eight years old. We just went over this.”

At this, the woman behind me drops her items onto the unused cash stand and also storms out while the cashier gives the same explanation.

Lady: “Oh, that’s right. You said that, but I’m seventy-eight; I forget things. Just give me a minute to find my ID again.”

After another two minutes of searching for the vanishing ID, she finally pulls it out and the cashier finishes the transaction. The woman does not move after its done but instead begins organizing her purse on the counter.

Cashier: “Is there anything else you need?” 

Lady: “Oh, no, I just thought I should probably put things where I can find them.”

Cashier: “Okay, well, will you move aside so I can help the next customer?”

She motions to the woman in front of me, who holds up her basket but cannot put it on the counter without pushing the old lady out of the way.

Lady: “I’m seventy-eight years old. I don’t do anything fast. You all need to learn to be more patient.” 

The woman that was behind the old lady and has been very polite up to this point loses it.

Lady #2: “Because not everyone is retired and bored. I have a few other errands to run before picking up my kids, and the poor girl behind me is just trying to get something to eat. She is obviously on her lunch break, she looks like she is about to cry, and thanks to you, she probably won’t have time to actually enjoy her food. Now move.”

The lady did move her purse from the counter to her cart and took a few steps before continuing to organize her purse, partially blocking the narrow aisle, but at least we could move around her. The cashier checked out both [Lady #2] and me as quickly as their system allowed.

As I left, after almost forty-five minutes in line, the lady was still organizing her purse.

I’m doing my weekly grocery shop at a big-name supermarket. There’s one woman who keeps telling people she’s in a rush and pushing past them to get what she needs, with none of the usual “Sorry, can I just squeeze by you?” or “Excuse me…” pleasantries we like to exchange in this country.

I finish up and am standing in line at the checkout. The rude woman is behind me, making irritated noises and sighing a lot. I’m next in line when another register opens, so I wheel my trolley over, making sure I block the rude woman’s path so she can’t go first. I start unloading my items onto the conveyor belt. 

Woman: “You really ought to let me go first, you know. I only have a few things, and I’m in a rush.”

Me: “Well, seeing as you’ve been so nice to everyone you’ve come in contact with in the shop today… no. You can wait.”

Woman: “But I’m in a hurry! This is my lunch break! I have to get back to work!”

Me: “Sounds like a ‘you’ problem to me. You can wait your turn, and don’t tell me what I ought to do. Even my mother doesn’t get to do that.”

Woman: “How rude of you!”

Me: “Oh, so we’re gonna go there, are we? You’ve consistently been rude to multiple people in this store, pushing and shoving and generally being annoying. You almost knocked one old man off his feet, and I haven’t heard a single ‘sorry’ or ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ come out of your mouth. So, now, you can wait. And I’m done talking.”

Woman: “I’ll get a manager! He’ll make you let me go ahead of you, and he’ll ban you from the store!”

At this point, the man behind the register pipes up.

Manager: “Actually, madam, I’m the manager on duty today. There’s no way I’d have made this lady let you check out first, and I wouldn’t have banned her for no reason. I’ve witnessed your behaviour today, too, and it was shockingly rude. Like the lady just told you, you can wait your turn.”

He turns to me and winks, also slowing the pace at which he’s scanning my things drastically.  

Manager: “How would you like to pay today, madam? Cash? Card? Multiple cards? A bit of both?”

I planned on just using my debit card from my primary bank account, but I get the gist of what he is saying and play along.

Me: “Can I split it between three cards and then pay cash for the remainder?”

Manager: *Grinning* “Of course, you can. It’ll take a little longer, but I always like to accommodate valued customers like you.”

As my Ma says, it doesn’t cost anything to say, “Please,” and, “Thank you,” and, “Excuse me,” and those words get you a long way sometimes.

I work in a large paint store that sells one specific brand. A customer walks up to the customer service desk.

Customer: “I need another can of this paint.”

She presents a can of paint made by a different brand.

Me: “Ma’am, that can didn’t come from our store as we don’t sell that brand of paint, but I’ll be happy to match it to a similar type of paint.”

Customer: “No, I bought it here. Just make me another one just like this.”

Me: “I’m sorry, we don’t carry that brand. The sticker on top looks like it was purchased at [Home Improvement Chain].”

Customer: “I know I bought it here in this store. It was before you worked here.”

Me: “It says [Home Improvement Chain] on it, right here on the label.”

Customer: “Who’s in charge here? I need to speak to them.”

The manager comes over and explains politely that we don’t carry this specific brand of products, never have, and most likely never will.

Customer: “You’re lying to me! Go check the back, and you’ll find a can just like this.” 

We both go to the back and facepalm for a few seconds. Then, we go back and try to explain again that we don’t carry that brand. Finally, she gives up.

Customer: “Well, I still need to buy this brush.”

I ring it up, give her the total, and swipe her card.

The card is declined.

Me: “It looks like this card is expired; do you have the new card or another form of payment?”

At that point, she just flipped her lid. She turned to the manager, yelled at him that I wouldn’t accept her credit card and that she was going to get us both fired, threw the brush on the ground, and stormed off.

CONTENT WARNING: Drug Use 

I’m a cashier at a grocery store in a pretty bad neighborhood — bulletproof glass walls between you and the customers. A customer comes in and asks:

Customer: “Do you sell ziplock bags?”

Me: *Pointing to the sandwich-size zip locks.* “Yes, sir.” 

Customer: “No, I need something smaller, like this…” 

He pulls out a drug baggie filled with a brownish powder. Without us even asking him what it is, he says:

Customer: “You know this s***, man?”

Me: “Uh… cocaine?”

Customer: “Nah, man, that’s heroin. Gotta hustle, man, make a dolla like y’all.”

I couldn’t believe this guy was dumb enough to (1) show us the bag, (2) tell us what it was, and (3) admit to selling it. Even at 4:00 am.

We saw him the next day walking around our store’s block for hours, approaching potential customers. The fact that he was selling this stuff was a deal breaker for us because we’re a few blocks away from a high school. We didn’t want to enable him selling heroin to kids, so we told our manager, who called the cops and left an anonymous tip. I don’t know what happened next exactly, but we heard that the guy got arrested a few days later. We never saw him again.