(I’m an electrician, and I’ve been dispatched to a store that has had a car plow through the front of it. The entire front of this small retail location has been boarded over. A manager is in the empty store with me — for security reasons — and I am up a ladder, working on the wiring in the ceiling. We both hear some rattling the front door.)

Manager: *calling* “We’re closed!”

(The rattling stops.)

Me: “Some people, right?”

Manager: “Yeah.”

(Suddenly, there’s a loud tearing crunch and both of us look dumbfounded at a woman, who has ripped several boards off the hole in the front of the store and climbed in.)

Customer: “Hey, your door wouldn’t open. I just need some things real quick—”

Manager: “Ma’am, we are closed. You can’t be in here.”

Customer: “But I just need—”

Manager: “No. We are closed. Does it even look like we can ring you up for anything?”

(Some cleanup has happened, but the shelves are empty and pushed all the way into the back of the store. There are no registers and most of the lights are off. I’m up a six-foot ladder with wiring hanging down around me, and I’m just staring down at this woman with a disbelieving expression.)

Customer: “But you’re here, so you can get me what I need out of the back.”

Manager: “No. We’re closed for business. And you are trespassing. You need to leave.”

(The woman protests, but is eventually herded out the door.)

Me: “What…?”

Manager: “Don’t think about it. The more you think about it, the more the stupid will burn. And we cannot afford an insulation fire right now.”

(The manager found a hammer and hammered the boards back into place. Several more people tried the door that day, but that lady was the only one who ripped a board off the hole in the wall to get in.)

(I am working for security at a college football game, and part of my job is to make sure that all drinks brought into the game are unopened. This event occurs between me and an older man.)

Me: “Is that water opened?”

Man: “No”

Me: “Okay!” *steps aside to let him pass*

Man: *steps close to me* “How do you know I’m not lying?”

Me: *trying to think of a response*

Man: “I’d go to Hell, then, wouldn’t I?” *slowly walks away*

Me: *speechless*

(I work for a popular Canadian coffee chain.)

Customer: “Do you take American? Hundreds?”

Me: “Sorry, we don’t take AmEx or bills larger than 50s.”

Customer: “What? You don’t take American money at all?”

Me: “What? I… Oh, I’m sorry, usually American means American Express credit cards here. Yes, we take American money; we just don’t take any bills larger than 50.”

Customer: “You don’t take American money?” *passes me a Canadian toonie*

Me: “Yes, we do, we just don’t take—”

Customer: “You should. You’d better. Best country in the world. Best money in the world.” *walks off calmly*

Regular Customer: *in line behind him, doing a fake Trump voice* “Best money ever. The very best. There has never been any better money before our money.”

(I’ve pulled up to the speaker to order my dinner from a fast food restaurant.)

Me: “Can I have a number three with a Coke, medium-sized?”

Employee: “Okay, so that’s a medium number three with a Coke. Anything else?”

Me: “Nope, that’s it.”

Employee: “Okay, please pull ahead, your total will be… a bad number.”

(On the screen, it shows the total to be $6.66. I pull ahead to the window and give him my card.)

Employee: “I won’t say the number because it’s a bad one, but you know what it is. Do you want your receipt?”

Me: “No, thank you.”

Employee: “Good choice. Don’t want the devil chasing you down.”

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(My coworkers and I joke that I’m the ghost of the supermarket, because for some weird reason my voice just doesn’t register with customers. I’m not quiet; my coworkers can hear me fine, but with customers, I’ll usually have to repeat myself three or four times, talk in a much louder and higher-pitched voice that normal, or rely on a coworker to “translate.” In this story, though, I’m recovering from a cold and can’t modulate my voice like usual, and I don’t have a bagger to help. The customer has piled her groceries on the belt in heaps and when the belt starts moving, a head of cauliflower falls off onto the floor.)

Me: “Oh, I think one of your veggies fell. Do you want to grab it?”

Customer #1: “What? Did you say something?”

Me: “Your cabbage– wait, no, it’s a cauliflower. It fell off the belt; it’s on the floor right there. You should probably grab it.”

(The customer stares straight through me and goes back to bagging.)

Me: “Ma’am, one of your groceries fell. Do you want your cauliflower?”

Customer #1: “I have enough bags, thanks.”

Me: “Okay, but do you want to pick up your cauliflower? It fell off the belt.”

(The customer doesn’t seem to hear me. Meanwhile, at the lane across from me, [Customer #2] comes up, finds the cauliflower on the ground, and looks at it, confused.)

Me: *to the second customer* “Oh, that belongs to this customer; if you don’t mind handing it to me…”

([Customer #2] ignores me and picks up the cauliflower, looking at it, perplexed. My coworker, who didn’t see this happen, opens up the lane for her.)

Coworker: “Okay, your total is $15.12. Did you want to get the cauliflower also?”

Customer #2: “It actually isn’t mine. I found it on the floor.”

Me: “It belongs to this customer! They dropped it!”

(The store is started to get busier, and it’s noisy. My coworker can’t hear me because their lane is too far away, and neither customer can hear me because of my strange curse, even though I’m speaking as loud as I physically can, and neither customer is more than four feet away from me.)

Coworker: “Oh, I can put that back for you.”

Customer #2: “Actually, maybe I should buy it. I always forget to get cauliflower.”

Coworker: “Hey, it’s fate.”

Me: *to the first customer* “Ma’am, they are buying your cauliflower right now. Do you want to get a new one?”

Customer #1: “I’m using credit.”

([Customer #2] leaves, happy as a clam with her new cauliflower. I sigh.)

Me: “Do you want your receipt today?”

(No response. Of course. The customer turns to leave.)

Customer #1: “Why haven’t you given me the receipt yet?”

(Cue internal screaming… although I might as well try external, since no one would notice, anyway. When I relayed this story to my boss, he told me to log the cauliflower as “left in the basket” in the forgotten items log, since no one would believe “a customer dropped it and another customer bought it off the floor while I repeatedly told both of them what was happening and they ignored me.”)