(I am cashiering a customer.)

Me: “Do you have a customer card?”

Customer: *squinting* “Are you a man?”

Me: “Umm, no. Do I look like one?”

Customer: “Are you absolutely sure?”

Me: “Yes…”

Customer: “Okay, I just have to be sure, because my brother just told us he’s gay, and that it was because he was serviced by a man.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “What did you ask for again?”

(I finished the transaction and he moved to leave, but he came back momentarily to ask again if I was “ABSOLUTELY SURE,” actually shouting it at me.)

(I am 17, working as a temporary receptionist for a company where my dad also works. It is my first real job and I am pretty nervous. One of my first calls comes from a client who asks for my dad, but he is currently in a meeting. When I tell the client this, he starts talking about what a great guy my dad is, how smart he is, etc., all the while not knowing that we are related. It is pretty harmless, until…)

Client: “I bet you have a huge crush on him.”

Me: “Well, actual—”

Client: *cutting me off* “Come on, he’s a handsome guy! I’m sure all the girls over there think he’s a cutie.”  

Me: “No, he—”

Client: *cutting me off again* “Oh, it’s okay. You can tell me! I won’t tell anyone.”

Me: *uncomfortably chuckling*

Client: “See! I knew it! You have the hots for him. Ooh, I’m going to tell him!”

Me: “No, you see—”

Client: “You don’t have to be shy! I’m sure he’d be flattered.”

Me: *finally losing patience* “Well, actually, I’m pretty sure I don’t have a crush on my own father.”

Client: “Your father? Whoa! You’re [My Dad]’s daughter?”

Me: “Yes.”

Client: *huffily* “Well, that’s no fun.”

(I offered to transfer him to my dad’s voicemail, which he accepted, but not without letting me know once again that I had ruined his “fun” game.)

(I work at an extremely well-known big box retailer known for having virtually everything and a very lenient price-matching policy. However, if I am told a price that I think is incorrect, I am allowed to ask what store it’s from and make sure it’s not ludicrous.)

Me: *preparing to scan an item*

Customer: “…and that’s [price that seems too low].”

Me: “Okay, sir, and which store is that from?”

Customer: “I don’t have to tell you that! The [Company] policy says I don’t have to tell you!”

Me: “Actually, sir, I can ask, and the store you are asking me to price match must be within 50 miles of this store.”

Customer: “No, it says in the policy I don’t have to, and I happen to know insider information about this kind of thing because my ex-wife is the store manager of one of these stores in New York, so you are wrong. I have the personal phone numbers of all sorts of people in the corporate office, and I can get anyone I want fired.”

(I go ahead and give him the price — it is busy and my supervisor has asked me to send someone home at another register — finish out his order, and give him his receipt while he continues to tell me his story.)

Customer: *becoming more smug by the moment* “Once, a cashier at another store, not here, wouldn’t honor the sign saying the pants I wanted to buy were $3 and told me I’d have to pay $15, and it was 3:00 in the morning, mind you, and I made her get her supervisor. Her supervisor told me that I couldn’t pay $3 for the pants and would have to pay $15, and I asked her if she was sure about that because there are laws in this country that require companies to have truth in advertising, and she said she was just doing her job. I told her I had the personal number of [Executive that does not actually exist], and I would be perfectly happy to call him, and I did, and he screamed at her on the phone and told her she’d be fired if she didn’t make me happy! Then she had the cashier change the price for me.”

Me: “Ah, yes… I—”

Customer: *positively gleeful* “Then, that manager told me I am a horrible person! And if you think that’s bad, when my wife was an assistant manager at a [Company] in California, her boss was a gay man who decided he hated women and sexually harassed my wife, and I called [Executive that doesn’t exist], and he not only fired that man and promoted my wife, he made that gay man unemployable in the state of California!”

(I was completely unable to figure out how to extricate myself from this conversation, which actually took over 15 minutes and nearly cost me my break, and in addition, the person I was supposed to relieve wound up being sent home by the supervisor because I couldn’t get away from this man. I found out later from a friend of mine that he comes in all the time and tries to pull that crap on people, and none of it is true.)

(As I’m sending one of my coworkers on break, a woman stops her. I tell her she’s trying to go on break but the woman says it will just be quick. I shrug and go back to work. A minute or two later, the woman comes up to me.)

Woman: “She didn’t want to hear what I had to say.”

Me: “Okay…?”

Woman: “I just wanted to say I bought a pie here the other day and it was awful.”

Me: “Oh. Well, I can get a manager for you—“

Woman: “No, I don’t want a manager. I just want someone to listen to me.”

Me: “Uh, okay?”

(At this point a line is forming up behind her so I’m kind of trying to get her to buy whatever she has in her hands and move on.)

Woman: “When someone has a complaint you just say, ‘Thank you,’ and move on.”

Me: “O… kay… um… do you want your receipt?”

Woman: “No. I just want someone to listen. When someone complains you just say, ‘Thank you.’”

Me: “Okay. Well, you have a nice day.”

(My voice and tone had not changed throughout this entire transaction, except for me being kind of confused. Then, suddenly…)

Woman: *angry* “Well, you don’t have to get offended!”

Me: “I’m… not?”

Woman: “Well, you were. There’s no reason to get offended. You just say, ‘Thank you,’ and move on!”

(Then, she stormed off. I still have no idea what was going on.)

(I am tending to a line of customers.)

Me: “Next, please.”

(The woman doesn’t move.)

Me: “Miss? You’re next.”

(She looks at me and grunts.)

Woman: “You don’t exist.”

Me: “I’m pretty sure I do.”

(She lets the rest of the line pass by until she is the only one left. I try everything in my power to prove I’m real to her, but she adamantly refuses to believe it, fully knowing I have just served about ten people right in front of her. My manager comes down eventually to ask me something and the woman interrupts.)

Woman: “WAIT! YOU’RE REAL?”

Manager: *bewildered* “Me?”

Woman: “Both of you.”

Manager: “Yes?”

Woman: *to me* “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

(My expression must have been murderous, as the woman actually took a step back, and my manager told me to take a break. When he came down after serving her, he told me she’d said that “weed and crack don’t mix well with me,” and then tried to give my manager a spliff to hand on to me to “calm me down.” My manager politely refused and called the police once she left. We don’t know if they caught up with her, and thankfully, I haven’t seen her since.)