It is just after Easter, and a customer is buying four packets of chocolate eggs. The eggs are on pegs at the top of the shelf. There are some other leftover Easter products on the very bottom of the shelf. They are all BOGOF (buy one, get one free). There are three signs that state this on the very bottom of the shelf, where the BOGOF items are, in big letters. Also on the signs are the names of the products that are BOGOF. The eggs aren’t mentioned in this; therefore, it’s common sense to assume they are not part of it.

Customer: “Why have you charged me extra for these eggs? The signs say that they are buy-one-get-one-free!”

Me: “Oh, no, it’s not the eggs. It’s the chocolate on the bottom shelf, see?”

Customer: “It’s very misleading.”

Me: “I’m so sorry. Let me get the sign and check.”

Customer: *Huffs* “I don’t have time for this! I’m in a rush! I just told you that the signs are misleading! What are you going to do about this?”

Me: “Do you still want the eggs?”

Customer: “No. I’m not going to bother.”

Me: “Okay, give me one moment and I’ll take them off your transaction.”

Because we are short-staffed, I have been given the supervisor’s code and can do the voids myself. Because I’m not used to doing these, though, I am taking a while. The lady doesn’t like this one bit and starts acting a little strange.

Customer: “Why are you being so awkward? I know you’re doing this deliberately! You’ve tricked me into this. You’ve made the signs misleading on purpose, and now you’re deliberately keeping me here because you know I’m in a rush!”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way, ma’am.”

Customer: “Excuse me?”

Me: “I’m sorry.”

I carry on, not as quickly as I’d like, removing the eggs from her transaction. Since she picked four packs up, this means I have to remove four items.

Customer: “I just told you! I’m in a rush! You’re just being slow on purpose! You people always make the signs misleading just to trick me! I’ll just leave my money here, because this is ridiculous and I don’t have time for this!”

Me: “Do you need the receipt?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Okay, you can leave your money on the side. I am very sorry for the inconvenience.”

She then left the shop. It was quite bizarre. I just find it funny that she’d think that. I wasn’t till-based that day, and I had a lot of things to do on the shop floor. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck on the till. I wanted the transaction to run smoothly just like she did!

I am a small village librarian, and I also live in the small village where I work, which means that, to many of the locals, I’m simply “The Librarian”.

A regular patron comes in one morning, furious about having received a late notice. He is adamant that he returned his magazine. Mistakes happen, so I go to check the shelf, as well as any other possible place it could have ended up.

Me: “I’m so sorry, but we can’t find this anywhere. How about I just renew the loan for you, so you can double-check at home and we can double-check here?”

Patron: “No! I know I returned it to you! I got the reminder message two days ago, and I walked over and returned it as soon as I got it!”

Then, I have a small epiphany. [Patron] lives a few houses down from me. Postal service in the past few years has been a joke, and I don’t rely on it any more than I have to. Post is delivered three times a week at best, so unless I’m waiting for a delivery, I only check my mailbox once a week.

Me: “[Patron], did you leave this in my private mailbox?”

Patron: “Of course I did! Why should I have to walk all the way here just to return a magazine?”

I went home and checked my mail, and yes, the magazine was there. [Patron] was told to use the library’s overnight return slot in the future.

I’m getting ready to start my shift. As I’m heading inside, a haggard-looking couple is sitting on the patio and the lady turns to me.

Customer: “Hey, I just wanted to let you know, if you can learn the animal language, you can learn anything.”

Me: “Umm… okay… Thanks for that.”

I just walk inside and clock in.

Me: “So, it’s gonna be one of those nights…”

The general manager later informed me that this couple comes in on a semi-regular basis while pretty strung out and that he’s cutting them off.

Related:
When You Start Each Customer Interaction With “Please Be Normal, Please Be Normal…”

I’m from the USA, but I took a position teaching at a university in Australia. On my first day in Australia, one of my new colleagues asked me if I knew anyone in Melbourne.

Me: “One of my fellow Ph.D. candidates was from here. His name is [Candidate].”

My new colleague paused for a moment.

Colleague: “We’re having [Candidate] and his wife over for dinner tomorrow. Would you like to join us?”

We shared a mutual jaw drop over that coincidence.

CONTENT WARNING: Emotional Abuse

As an adult, I’ve come to the realisation that my mum… wasn’t okay when I was a kid. I could go on for hours about the strange things she said and did, but this one stands out because she got shut down so nonchalantly by an employee that she was quiet for a good hour afterward.

The setting is a small town in Ireland where we were visiting family. I was around fifteen years old, and my brothers were around twelve and fourteen. My mum told us we could wander around town for a time while she went food shopping.

We did so, and then after maybe half an hour, we decided to head over to the supermarket to help her with the shopping. We had each bought a drink in a different shop, and we were sipping them as we walked around. I took a sip when we were in the supermarket, which was apparently a bad idea.

Mum: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Drinking my drink.”

Mum: “What’s wrong with you? The staff will think you’re stealing!”

Me: “It’s fine. I have a receipt from the shop I bought it from, so if anyone asks, I’ll just show them.”

Mum: “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be seen with a criminal! F*** off and drink it outside. You can come back when you’re finished!”

Me: “That’s ridiculous. I’m not doing that. It’s raining and I don’t want to get soaked.”

Mum: “Fine, then. I’ll have the staff kick you out.”

She called out to an employee nearby, some guy who couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old.

Mum: “Excuse me! Excuse me! I need you to kick out this brat; he’s drinking a drink in the shop and won’t leave even after I told him to!”

Employee: *To me, obviously confused. “Uh, did you pay for that drink?”

Me: “Yeah, I have a receipt, I bought it from [Small Shop a few streets away]. Do you want to see it?”

Employee: “No, that’s fine. It’s okay.”

Mum: “So, you’re not going to kick him out?! He could have stolen that drink!”

Employee: “Uh, no… He’s allowed to drink a drink he bought in another shop.”

Me: “See? It’s fine.”

Mum: *To me* “Oh, you think you’re so smart. F*** off back to the car. I don’t want to see you again until you’ve finished that drink.”

Me: “All right.”

I went out to the car and sat in it for about five minutes. Then, I got a phone call from my mum.

Mum: “Where are you?! I need help packing up the shopping!”

Me: “I’m in the car. You told me not to come back until I’d finished my drink.”

Mum: “Don’t talk back to me, you little s***! Get back here and help me bag the shopping!”

I sighed and headed back to the supermarket, where she proceeded to berate me for packing the bags “wrong” and dragged the cashier into the argument.

Mum: “What do you do when someone steals a drink and drinks it while they’re in the shop?”

Me: “I didn’t steal it. I have the receipt from the shop I bought it from.”

Cashier: “People are allowed to drink things in the shop so long as they pay for it. Leave the boy alone, will you?”

My mum then fumed silently for the next hour and locked herself in her bedroom when we got home to have a cry about how terrible and insolent I was. I wish I could explain her thought process, but that was just one of many insane things she accused me of throughout my childhood.