(I order a cake and prepay for it. When I go to pick it up, I realize I’ve forgotten my receipt. The receipt is a simple printout that describes the cake, lists the customer name, and states how much was paid.)

Me: “Hello! I’m here to pick up an order for [My Name].”

Worker: “Do you have your receipt?”

Me: “No, sorry. But I have my ID and credit card.”

Worker: “You need to go home and get it or pay for the cake again.”

(My home is an hour away.)

Me: “So, you don’t have any kind of record?”

Worker: “Nope.”

Me: “So, someone could order two identical cakes, pay for one, and come back later to reuse the first receipt?”

Worker: *silence* “I’ll go see if my manager can look in our records book.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(We have a totally self-entitled regular who seems to think he is our one and only customer. A few days ago, he berated a new employee because she didn’t remember what he usually takes and made a mistake, too, after he started berating her, simply because she was nervous. We all don’t like him, but of course, we still have to be — and are — polite when he orders. I should note that our counter is split; one half is for coffee and snacks, the other half for bread and the like. He lines up at the snack half because he wants his coffee. After a few moments, I see him sigh and head over to me on the other half, because I currently have no customers; he is obviously trying to get served faster. However, I’m currently preparing some stuff that has to go into the oven next and I absolutely hate what this customer is doing, so…)

Me: *still fumbling with my baking trays* “Hi. I’ll be with you in just a moment; I only have to finish this!”

(I deliberately take my time. After I’ve finished the first tray, I “remember” I need to bake something else, too, and put this onto a tray, too. My coworkers instantly realize what I’m doing and pretend to be busy elsewhere. Then, I put everything into the oven, set the timer, and turn to my customer. Meanwhile, he would have already had his coffee if he just hadn’t had to switch sides to save time.)

Me: *fake smile* “I’m sorry that took so long. What can I get you today?”

Customer: *without so much as a hello, please or anything* “A coffee, small. The usual, you know!”

(I know I’d been kind of an a**hole, but after that, I thought he indeed deserved what I did, and all of my coworkers agreed.)

(I haven’t done much retail work, but the one thing I did was as a cashier in a bakery. One day an elderly lady comes in carrying half a loaf of bread in a dish towel. I should note that shrimp salad is a sort of cheese-like spread with tiny chunks of shrimp in it.)

Customer: “Excuse me, but I bought this bread yesterday and it has a hole in it.”

(She then unwraps the half-loaf and shows it to me. It does indeed have an air bubble around the size of a coin.)

Customer: “I was wondering if I could have a refund?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. But I can’t give you a refund, as you have already eaten part of the product.”

Customer: “But my shrimp salad falls through the hole. Do you think you could give me a new loaf, then, in return for this one?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that, either.”

Customer: “Oh. Well, then, can you write a note to the baker himself, and tell him that this bread had a hole in it?”

(I promised her that I would, and she left with her hole-y bread. Bless her heart, she was so sweet and patient about it, and I really wanted to just give her a new bread, but I knew I couldn’t.)

(I work at an old bakery where my grandmother used to work. Most of my coworkers either worked with my grandma while she was still alive or frequented the bakery as children. I have an angel heart tattoo on my arm. Two male customers come in; one reeks of alcohol.)

Customer #1: “Hey, angel, give me something sweet and I might do, as well.” *wink*

Customer #2: “We’ll take five chocolate, and three almond cookies.”

Me: *trying to keep calm and handing them the order* “Okay, that’ll be [price]. Cash or credit?”

Customer #1: “That pretty face deserves a lot of cash. Here you go, angel tits.”

(I put on my best customer service smile and extend my arm to take the cash, but he slaps it away and tries to shove the bills in my cleavage. Keep in mind that I’m wearing a high-neck shirt.)

Me: “Okay, that’s enough, buddy. This can go one of two ways: you either keep your hands home before you lose them, pay, and get the h*** out, or… you get escorted out with no food and a harassment charge. What will it be, honey?”

Customer #2: “Just go sit in the car, man.”

([Customer #1] mumbles something and walks out.)

Customer #2: “You have to forgive him; he’s drunk.”

Me: “Being drunk doesn’t give him an excuse to act like a jacka**. Enjoy your cookies while they’re intact and please never come back unless both of you are sober.”

(He quietly pays and walks out. My manager approaches me, laughing.)

Me: “Am I in trouble?”

Manager: “H*** no. That reminds me of the times when [Grandma] was here.”

Coworker: “Except no one walked out with a boot tattooed on their a**.”

(And I thought my respect for Grandma couldn’t be any higher.)

(My brother and I own a small bake shop. We give a discount to students, but people are always trying to scam us to get the discount when they don’t deserve it.)

Me: “Okay, your total is [amount].”

Customer: “But what about the discount?”

Me: “Are you a student?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Then you don’t get one.”

Customer: “What about the family discount?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “The owner’s my kid brother. Family gets a discount here. Didn’t they tell you when they hired your stupid a**?”

Me: “One sec.” *turns towards the kitchen* “Yo! [Brother]! Come out here for a sec.”

(My brother, who is 6’5″ and built like a train, comes out and towers over my “brother” and me.)

Brother: “What?”

Me: “Apparently, I’m not the eldest. Meet our older brother.”

(The customer is starting to look pretty nervous now.)

Me: “Now, he’s our brother, and we should treat him with respect, but apparently, I didn’t do a good enough job explaining the discount. Could you assist?”

(My brother has a slight language disorder, so he doesn’t mince his words, and he does not suffer fools gladly. Now very grumpy, he turns towards our would-be brother.)

Brother: “Is he a student?”

Me: “Nope!”

([Brother] crouches down and looks the customer dead in the eye.)

Brother: “No. Discount.”