(I’m watching a guy in front of me in line during this one. He’s wearing cargo pants, with tons of pockets.)

Cashier: “…and that will be $27.10.”

Customer: “Sure. Hold on.”

(He proceeds to reach into his pocket and comes up with a wallet.)

Customer: “Wait, wrong one.”

(He puts the wallet back, reaches into another pocket, and comes up with a second wallet.)

Customer: “Nope. That’s not it, either.”

(He puts that wallet back and retrieves yet another wallet.)

Customer: “S***. Give me one more second.”

(The guy then goes through two more wallets before finding the correct one, completing his purchase, and leaving the store as if nothing has happened. I am now looking at the cashier.)

Cashier: *looking at me bug-eyed* “Am I the only one who has no idea what just happened?”

Me: “I have so many questions.”

(Certainly something you don’t see every day!)

(I served a customer half an hour ago, and while I am serving another customer, she comes stomping up to me, receipt in hand.)

Customer: “What’s this?”

Me: “A receipt?”

Customer: “YES! And do you know where it was?”

Me: “Did I serve you?”

Customer: “DUH!”

Me: “I either gave it to you or put it in your bag.”

Customer: “The latter! And now I’ve just spent the last half an hour turning my car over looking for it! What kind of service is this where you hide your customer’s receipts from them?”

Me: “Madam, I always ask if you want the receipt in your bag before handing everything over. If it was in your bag, you would have answered for it to be put there.”

Customer: “This is absolutely disgraceful. I’m tempted to put in a complaint about you! What would’ve happened if I had lost it?!”

Me: “I can see your customer number on the receipt, so all we would have to do is scan your membership card and pull up the appropriate transaction saved to it.”

Customer: “You save all that?”

Me: “Just the items and method of payment, for auditing and returns without receipt.”

Customer: “Oh, my God!” *sprints down the full length of the store and out the front door in a mad panic, screaming about the government stealing her identity*

Current Customer: *turning to me* “What the f*** was that?”

Me: *shrugs and continues with the transaction*

(I am a pharmacy technician. At the pharmacy where I work, we have those special shopping carts for small children, shaped like cars. I’m helping a family — a mom, teenage daughter, and a preschool girl, roughly four or five — with one such cart. They have a few items to ring out besides their prescriptions. I notice the little girl is holding something in her hands. Thinking it’s a toy her mom promised to buy her, I point it out to her sister.)

Me: *pointing at the girl* “Are you buying that, as well?”

Sister: “Buying… Oh, where did you get that?! May I see that? Thank you. We’re just going to put that over here.” *puts it on the counter, clearly not buying it*

(It was a bottle of shampoo, by the way. On closer inspection, the sister pulled out — I kid you not — over twenty more bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and other hair care products. The little girl must’ve grabbed everything when they drove through the beauty section. The sister was apologetic and everything, just glad I said something, as some of the stuff was really pricey, and everything in her car easily came out to over $100. The kid’s going to have really expensive tastes when she grows up!)

(I am in the elevator in a building on my campus which I rarely set foot in, going to the fourth floor. The elevator stops on the third floor and a half-dozen people get off. There’s a fancily-dressed woman in her forties standing maybe ten feet away, looking a little bit confused. She looks at all the people leaving the elevator and going off, some walking right by her, but she doesn’t attempt to speak to any of them. After they’ve left, she looks at me, still in the elevator.)

Woman: “Do you know if there’s a restaurant in this building?”

(I pause as I think about it, but realize I just have no clue and shake my head.)

Me: “No, I don’t.”

(The elevator doors start to slide closed and I think nothing more of it. The woman then runs over to the elevator, forces the doors back open with her hands, and sticks her head in while looking at me very intently.)

Woman: *very frantically and unnecessarily loudly* “What? What?! I didn’t hear what you just said! WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

(Wide-eyed and alarmed, I rear back away from her.)

Me: “Uh. I don’t know. I said I don’t know. Sorry.”

(The woman stares at me for several beats, very skeptically, and in a kind of crazed way, while still forcibly holding the elevator doors open.)

Woman: “Oh. Well.”

(She stares at me skeptically some more, then finally, very reluctantly, steps back and lets the elevator doors go. I keep on looking at her in alarm, then start to repeatedly press the “close doors” button in the elevator to try to get away from her as fast as possible. Lady, really, I don’t care what your issues are, but the one person who’s stayed in the elevator, with the doors about to close, is really NOT the best person to try to ask for directions.)

(The winery for which I work is very small, but serves a wide variety of wine from our own private label — whites, reds, blushes, fruits, as well as dessert wines and ports. Please note that there are MANY wineries in my state, most of which serve their own private labels, as well. Two women walk in and sit at our service bar.)

Guest #1: “I would like a bottle of [Other Private Label] Chardonnay.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but we only serve our own private label.”

Guest #1: “And what is that?”

Me: *not sure how she missed the business name, which is prominently displayed everywhere* “[Our Place] Winery. We make all of our own wines on site.” *hands her a menu*

Guest #1: “Well, I want something semi-sweet, like a Chardonnay.”

Me: “We do have a Chardonnay, but it is a dry, full-bodied wine, not so much a sweet or semi-sweet.”

Guest #1: *to [Guest #2]* “Ugh. I don’t know why we came here. They don’t know what they’re doing.” *to me* “Well, what do you have that’s semi-sweet and white?”

Me: “Let’s take a look at the menu.”

(I take a few moments to describe our semi-sweet and sweet whites, from driest to sweetest, including flavour descriptions.)

Guest #1: “Well, I guess I have to get something. Let’s start with that first one you mentioned and work our way through to the sweetest. Just a little bit, because I might not like it. I don’t know why you don’t have [Other Winery] wines here.”

(I go to the cooler and pull out the first three wines she mentions.)

Guest #1: “NO! Don’t pour them all at once! If I like one, I won’t want to taste the rest!”

Me: “That’s fine; we only pour one tasting at a time. I’m just pulling out the bottles to make it easier.” *pours first tasting [Guest #1] picked out*

Guest #1: “This is awful. Purely awful.”

Me: “That’s okay. You don’t have to like all of them. I’m sure we’ll find something for you!”

Guest #2: *trying tasting* “This is pretty good. Can I get a glass of this?”

Guest #1: “How can you even drink that swill?” *tries tasting the other wine* “Oh, God, this is even worse! Do you not know how to make wine?”

Me: “I’m sorry you don’t like that one. Is it too sweet?”

Guest #1: “It tastes like vinegar and awful!”

Me: “Let’s try this one. It’s very sweet.”

Guest #1: *trying tasting* “It’s better, but still not sweet. I don’t think you understand sweet. I guess the sweetest one will have to do. Just pour me a glass, and I’ll deal with it.”

(I pour the glasses for [Guest #1] and [Guest #2], and give them some crackers to enjoy with their wine. I come back and check on them a few minutes later.)

Guest #1: “I figured out if I pour all the wines together, they taste halfway decent. Has anyone ever thought to do that?”

Me: “Oh, yes, our guests make cocktails from the wine all the time. In fact, I have one guest who likes to mix [dessert wine] with [specialty wine].”

Guest #1: “YOU HAVE DESSERT WINE?!”

Me: “Yes. It’s very sweet; some folks compare it to a ‘syrupy sweetness.’”

Guest #1: “Give me that.”

(I pour her a tasting, which she gulps down.)

Guest #1: “NOW THAT IS A SEMI-SWEET! GIVE ME ANOTHER!”

Guest #2: *samples tasting* “Oh, God, that is strong.”

Guest #1: “WHY DIDN’T YOU GIVE THAT TO ME IN THE FIRST PLACE?”

Guest #2: “You asked for ‘semi-sweet,’ not ‘sweet as h***’!”

Guest #1: “I’m going to buy a bottle of that, because I’m sure as h*** never coming back to this place again, with their vinegar swill crap!”

(After complaining about all of our semi-sweets, insulting our product, mixing six different whites together, and finally enjoying our dessert wine, she decided to leave behind her entire glass of wine after purchasing one of our most expensive — and sweetest — bottles of wine. I guess there’s no pleasing some folks!)