I used to work for a Christian retailer for many years, and whoo-boy, could I tell some stories. This one sticks in my mind, however.

One of my coworkers, a young unmarried female, fell pregnant — a bit of a no-no to our customer base. To assist her, she was retrained for a different department which had limited contact with the shop floor. One day, however, she needed to get something from the counter and a female customer spotted her.

Immediately, the customer exclaimed:

Customer: “Oh, you’re pregnant! That’s so exciting! Your husband must be so pleased.”

I could see my coworker have a mini internal struggle as to whether she should lie or tell the truth. She chose the latter and advised the customer that she was not married.

The customer’s countenance immediately changed and she began raging about sin and how terrible this girl was, etc. I bee-lined over right away and politely asked my coworker, now close to tears, to please pop out back for a moment as the manager was looking for her.

As soon as she left, I whirled on the customer and let fly.

Me: “How dare you judge that girl! You have no idea the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy! She may have been raped for all you know! Or divorced. Or any number of things. You have no right to judge her whatsoever.”

I let fly for a few more moments before the customer, who at least now looked properly chastened, left the store.

As soon as she left, my manager popped out from the next aisle, having heard the whole thing.

Manager: “You know, I technically should reprimand you for speaking to a customer like that.” *Pauses* “I won’t, though. Well done.”

We never saw that customer again.

I am wearing a Darkwing Duck T-shirt. The shirt doesn’t actually mention Darkwing by name or feature his likeness, but it does mention St. Canard, the name of the fictional city the show is set in. I’m male and in my early forties.

I am at the store and go to the register with my cart. The clerk is a young man in his late twenties with flamboyant hair and a small nose piercing. I unload the items onto the belt, and as the previous customer takes their shopping and walks away, the clerk turns to me and notices my shirt.

Clerk: “Hey, nice shirt! I love that show!”

Me: “Thanks! You’re the first person to—”

Rude Customer: *Behind me* “WILL YOU STOP F****** CHATTING AND GET MOVING?! Some of us have THINGS TO DO!”

This outburst is a bit random as it has literally only been a few seconds since the previous customer left. The clerk starts scanning my items, but the rude customer gets even angrier.

Rude Customer: “HURRY UP!”

It has been less than a minute since we started.

Rude Customer: “F****** f**s keeping me waiting!”

The clerk just looks at me, winks, and turns to the rude customer.

Clerk: “I am the terror that flaps in the night. I am the cashier doing his job and won’t tolerate rudeness. I am… refusing you service!”

The customer starts screaming, but luckily, a passing manager has heard everything and with the help of the security guard is able to get the rude customer out of the store. My items are bagged and I pay and am ready to go.

Me: “Thanks, DW!”

Clerk: “Never fear, citizen! The Clerk of St. Canard will always protect you!”

Best clerk ever!

Tonight, a lady called in to make reservations for next month.

Customer: “I need two rooms for four adults for the first weekend in April. I think I saw online the rate was $81. Can you help me with that?”

Me: “I sure can! Was there a specific discount you were looking for, like AAA?”

Customer: “It sure was the AAA rate. And thanks for doing this; now I don’t have to fuss with the ding dang computer. Now, I want one room with a king bed and the other with two beds. I think the two beds are more expensive, but that’s okay.”

Me: “I show that two queens are the same rate as the king for those dates. Do you have a rewards number you want to attach to the reservations?”

Customer: “The two beds are the same price? That’s even better! I do have one of your numbers, but I don’t know where it is. I think I have it saved in my ding dang phone. Don’t worry about it, hun.”

Me: “You said your name was [Customer]? What city and state do you live in?”

Customer: “Oh, I’m from [City], [State].”

Me: “Okay, Ms. [Customer], I found your rewards profile right here.”

Customer: “Aren’t you a clever one! Thank you!”

I finish up the reservation and confirm her email address for the confirmation.

Me: “Would you like to write down your rewards number? That way you can log in with the app to see your reservations and check in.”

Customer: *To her husband* “FRANK! The girl said I can use my phone to check in!” *To me* “Yes, dear, I’d like that number. You have been so helpful and kind. We can’t wait to stay there.”

I hung up the phone chuckling as she started shouting at Frank again about the hotel.

Everyone who works in a restaurant has had campers before, and that can be especially frustrating on a Friday night where you have a limited amount of tables. However, tonight I was feeling laid back and trying not to walk too much as I have a sprained toe, so I have only three tables when I usually have five. I was not worried because my foot is swollen; this weekend was going to suck regardless.

Out of my three tables, I had two women sit from 6:30 to 9:00, and I believed they cashed out around 7:15 with a $40 check. I returned their change and new receipt; they tipped well. I was totally not stressed about it because I didn’t want to walk on my swollen and sore injured foot and they did tip well. I did offer more water after they cashed out and they said they were fine. I got cut around 9:00 and started helping my closing bartender.

The busser came over to me and handed me $50.

Me: “Where is this from?”

I had two open tables where $50 wouldn’t make sense.

Busser: “It’s from table [number], and they just left.”

These ladies paid me double to sit at the table and I’m grateful. I could have lost the chance to make money on that table but instead, I got extra money that I don’t have to tip out on.

Ladies, you know what’s up and I appreciate what you did.

I am third in the queue at a local supermarket. At the counter, there is a lovely, polite, elderly lady with the telltale jerking movements of Parkinson’s. Her voice is a little slurred, soft, and monotonous.

Lady: “I’m sorry I’m so slow. Can I just get these?”

She puts through five items, mostly lunch stuff.

Cashier: “No worries, not a problem at all! Would you like a bag?”

The next customer cuts in.

Man: “Well, I’m f****** worried! You shouldn’t be allowed out in public like that.”

He gets up in the old lady’s face.

Cashier: “Stop that immediately!”

Man: “Listen, b****, I shouldn’t have to wait in line because some old f***** can’t handle her highs!”

Meanwhile, the old lady is calmly putting her stuff in her bag… except for a can of soda which she holds in her hand.

Cashier: “Excuse me. That is my mother, and she has Parkinson’s Disease; it is a neurological degenerative condition that causes those movements.”

The manager can be seen approaching but is still a few moments away.

Man: “Like f*** she is! She’s just high!”

The lady opens the now very well-shaken can of soda and proceeds to drop it at the man’s feet, causing it to spurt upward in a jet of foam and thoroughly soak him.

Lady: “Oh, I’m terribly sorry! I have Parkinson’s disease. There was a spasm in my hand and I let go of it. I’m soooooo sorry!”

The other customer shouts for a bit and then gets thrown out by the manager.

The elderly lady then waits at the end of the checkout to speak to her daughter after she finishes serving me, and that’s when I notice her mischievous grin.

Me: “You totally meant to do that, didn’t you?” *Smirks*

Lady: “H*** yeah, I did!” *Smiles sweetly* “I may have Parkinson’s, but I can still deal with an a**hole or two!”