I am shopping in the hardware store where I also work. I’m getting some wood cut for a home project when a customer approaches me.

Customer: “If you’re done just standing around, I need this timber cut.”

Me: “Oh, I’m waiting for my wood to be cut myself.”

Customer: “Well, put it aside! Customers’ orders come first!”

Me: “I’m just a customer like you today. It’s my day off. I’ll be taking this home with me when I’m done.”

Customer: “Home?”

Me: *Laughing* “Well, by ‘home’, I mean the back, where they keep us locked up overnight.”

Customer: “They… keep you locked up back there?”

Me: “Yes. We get let out twice a night for toilet breaks.”

Customer: “Oh! Well… that’s all very…”

Suddenly, I realize that this customer is taking it all very seriously. My manager, who is cutting my wood, has also realized this.

Manager: “Ma’am, he was joking. We don’t keep our staff locked up at night.”

Customer: “Well… I thought maybe you did that to the Mexicans or something…” 

Related:
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!, Part 7
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!, Part 6
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!, Part 5
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!, Part 4
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!, Part 3

Customer: “I want these shoes but in [size].”

Me: “I’m afraid that since those are clearance, we only have the sizes available on the shelves. If they’re not available in your size, we won’t be able to order any in.”

Customer: “All I am hearing are excuses and laziness. You might be able to get away with that in whatever African country you came from, but here in America, we value customer service. Now, let’s try this again. I want these shoes but in [size].”

Me: “Regardless of what country I come from, ma’am, I can’t magic up a pair of shoes that we do not carry for you.”

Customer: “Is that a tone I detect? Get me your manager; I’ll have to tell them how badly behaved their staff are. I do hope you don’t have a visa attached to this job.”

Manager: “Actually, I am the manager, and I have heard everything. Get out.”

Customer: “Excuse me?”

Manager: “You’re a hateful shrew of a person. Get out.”

Customer: “I am the customer!“

Manager: “Get… out!”

Customer: “The customer is always right!”

Manager: “The customer is always right in matters of taste, and you, ma’am, have none. Get out.”

The customer finally left, and my awesome manager gave me a pat on the back and told me to talk like that to any other hateful customers we might get in the store!

I’m in line to check out at a pet store. The guy up at the register has a bag of guinea pig food or bedding or something, and between him and me is someone who looks like he looked up “Grumpy Old Man stereotypes” and used it as a checklist.

Cashier: “All right, your total is [total], we also have these ‘Guinea Dad’ and ‘Guinea Mom’ bumper stickers for just a dollar if you like!”

Guinea Pig Guy: “Ooo, yeah, I’ll take the ‘Guinea Mom’, please.”

Grumpy Old Man: *Scoffs*

Cashier: “All right, here you go, your new total is [total].”

Grumpy Old Man: “PUT IT BACK!”

Cashier & Guinea Pig Guy: “What?”

Grumpy Old Man: “He’s got a f****** beard! It’s bad enough that he’s got some [gay slur] pet like that little rat. Don’t let him act like a woman! Put that f****** thing back!“

Guinea Pig Guy: “…So, anyway, my wife, who is the one who takes care of the guinea pig, would love that sticker, yes. Also, do you guys sell baby food? Someone left their infant here and he’s crying loudly.”

The cashier made a visible effort to not burst out laughing. I made no such effort and doubled over, especially when the Grumpy Old Baby impotently banged his cart a few times and stormed out.

I work in a large pharmacy and cosmetic store. We have a men’s section for colognes and deodorants. A famous brand has recently brought out a new fragrance in your typical “for her” and “for him” range, but the packaging for both looks very similar. A male customer approaches me.

Customer: “I want this one, but the one for men.”

Me: “That is the one for men, sir.”

Customer: “No, this is the women’s. I want the man version.”

Me: “No, it is, sir. See, it says, ‘Pour Homme,’ on the bottle, that means ‘For Men’.”

Customer: “I can’t buy it like this; it’s for girls! I’m not f****** gay!”

He says this last part in a kind of panicked whisper, which is ironically loud enough for my manager to hear. He comes over and brings me aside to talk to me in an actual hushed whisper.

Me: “He’s refusing to buy this version as he thinks it’s ‘for girls’.”

Manager: “Just get the larger vial, slap a sale sticker over the name, and tell him it’s ‘man-sized’.”

I’m sad to say… it worked.

A customer is signing out a car he has rented from our site at the airport. As he is signing the insurance paperwork, I feel I have to mention something. Normally, I wouldn’t, but since it’s a Saint Patrick’s Day weekend, our town is known for partying, and the customer is wearing a big green “Kiss me! I’m Irish!” shirt, I feel compelled to.

Me: “Sir, just to let you know, the insurance is void if any damage comes to the car while you’ve got any trace of alcohol in your system — and I do mean ‘any’. Some people think you need to be intoxicated, but the insurance paperwork makes it quite clear that you can’t have any in your system at all.”

Customer: *Not looking up, still signing forms* “Okay, so, just the one whiskey, then.”

Me: “Sir, obviously you can drink what you want, but I just need to let you know that if you do drink and drive, the insurance no longer covers you.”

Customer: *Still not looking up* “Okay, so, no whiskey, then, just a couple of shots.”

Is he toying with me?

Me: “I’m afraid that will still count, sir.”

Customer: *Handing over all the signed forms* “Fine, just some beers, then.”

Me: “Have a good weekend, sir.”

Customer: “I will have a good weekend because, unlike most of the fake posers in this city, I actually am descended from Irish immigrants. I can handle my liquor! It’s in my blood!”

Me: “Which is exactly the thing that would invalidate the insurance. Please have a safe and responsible weekend!”

Customer: “You wouldn’t know; you’re Black. You guys can’t hold down your liquor like you can’t hold down jobs.”

Me: “Okay… that was uncalled for. Your car is in bay forty-one. Goodbye.”

The customer smirked and rushed off.

Guess who came back on Monday looking terrible and smelling of booze? And guess who had scratched the car on the side so badly that it actually looked like it had been done on purpose? And guess who couldn’t get us to cover the insurance on it because they seemed so intoxicated we actually had to call the police because we’d no doubt just witnessed an obvious DUI?

And guess who said, “I guess I’m holding down my job better than you’re holding down your liquor,” as they were told just how expensive the repair bill was likely to be?