I work in a popular pizza place that also sells wings, breadsticks, and nuggets. A customer has just taken the last of our wings. A lady storms up to me already looking agitated. She doesn’t even let me get out my greeting before demanding eight wings.

I tell her we’re out, but before I can deliver the good news of fresh ones almost being done, she slams her fist on the counter over and over while shouting, “I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!”

She leaves before anyone can say anything else.

I work in electrical sales on the first floor of a large supermarket. I notice a shifty-looking fellow standing beside our display of laptops. There’s nothing too unusual about that; they all run promotional videos and adverts so many people stop to watch them.

As I watch, the man reaches out and deliberately pulls on the security cable for the laptop, immediately setting off the anti-theft alarm. He then takes one step to the side and does the same to another laptop, and then another, before looking me in the eye and walking away.

His calm and deliberate attitude immediately arouses my suspicions, so I quickly reset the alarms and head down the public stairway to speak to our security guard about the strange behaviour.

I am never able to have that conversation; the security guard and the on-duty manager have already stopped the strange customer at the door and are asking him to open his backpack. 

Apparently, the guy was so set on distracting me that it didn’t occur to him that the alarms would have alerted the CCTV operator, who watched him walk away from the laptops, stuff a small appliance in his bag, and walk off while I was occupied.

The story gets weirder.

The strange man decides that he doesn’t want to talk to the security guard and tries to push past. Knowing full well that the man is shoplifting, the on-duty manager grabs him by the coat and turns him around to walk back into the store.

At this point, the man sees me standing nearby and grabs me by the lapel with his free hand, trying to swing at me with the one that my manager is hanging on to! Between the two of us we are able to wrestle him to the ground, the security guard grabs one leg, and another member of staff grabs him by the other; all four limbs are held to stop him from thrashing and growling at us, while another member of staff calls the police.

As the four of us are sitting on this guy as he writhes and roars at us, another customer approaches my manager. I see her coming, and honestly, I think that she is going to try and defend the thief or scold us for restraining him so violently.

No. Instead, she speaks to the manager who is clamped down on the arm of a growling, struggling thief.

Customer:
“Excuse me! I’ve just been to the tills, and your staff gave me far too many plastic bags! I don’t need all of these!”

With far greater politeness than I had expected, the manager directed her to the customer service desk while we waited, on the floor, for another fifteen minutes until the police arrived. I mean, Jesus Christ, lady! Have you no concept of priorities?!

I was in a pharmacy with two pharmacists working. I was waiting in the left line while in the right there was one of “those” customers, a woman who wanted a “spray that heals cuts.” There was previously an antibiotic spray on the market which did something similar but it’s not available anymore.

The pharmacist explains and explains and the woman says that’s not even it; this spray she is talking about basically heals the injury instantly. (NASA would love to have those, probably!) They go back and forth for a long time.

We all watch with sympathy as the scene unfolds. Since I can be a bit of a complicated customer, I also watch and think, “Whew, there you go. You are not the worst one; that one is definitely crazier!”

As I get called up to the pharmacist on the left, I tell her what I need and she turns around to get it for me. I sort of stare into space and get lost in thought and start quietly singing to myself, “Meow, meow, meow…” to the tune of an ad jingle. Before you ask, I have no idea why.

The pharmacist turns around to see me quietly meowing to a melody to myself and, as our eyes meet, I can just see her thinking, “The crazies are everywhere.”

My husband, our two sons — age 15 and 11 — and I are on our way home one evening. Everyone has been either listening to the music playing or lost in their own thoughts for the last 15 minutes or so, when my oldest sits up straight and leans forward a bit.

Oldest Child:
“My favourite shape of the alphabet is the colour nine.”

There is silence for the next few minutes as we run those words through our heads a few dozen times.

Youngest Child:
“What have you done? You just broke everything.”

(I work in a state where my employer, due to stricter liquor laws, does not sell alcoholic products in their stores in my state. I am ringing at the tills, and we have a slow period. During this time, a customer approaches my till.)

Customer: “Whhereh is your alchkoholll?!”

Me: “Alcohol?”

Customer: “Yeshhh… Beeeerr?!”

(Noticing that he is from Florida, where they sell liquor in this chain of stores, I answer:)

Me: “I’m sorry. But we don’t sell alcohol here, in this state.”

Customer: “Oh…” *sad, crestfallen puppy face*

(He wandered away, weaving a bit through lines of tills, and I decided to keep an eye on him, since I was the only male cashier up front. Finally, he spotted a bag of plain old potato crisps. Eyes darting from his head, he rushed over to the display. Picking up the bag lovingly, he held it gently to his nose and inhaled. Putting the bag down, he now wore an enraptured look of sheer joy and ecstasy as he walked the whole way out of the store.)