(My mum is waiting for me in a popular coffee shop. She grabs a coffee while she waits for me to get off work nearby. After a while, she needs the restroom, so she leaves the table for a few moments. When she returns:)

Random Customer: “Hey! Cheeky cow! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Mum: “What?”

Random Customer: “You can’t just drink someone else’s coffee, lady!”

Mum: “What are you talking about? This is my coffee.”

Random Customer: “Er, no, it isn’t. I’m getting you kicked out!”

Mum: “It is my coffee. I just went to use the ladies; that’s all.”

Random Customer: “Yeah, right.”

(The random customer then cuts the queue to rant at the barista about my mum. The barista looks over, and tells the man that my mum did indeed pay for the drink, and is entitled to drink the coffee she paid for.)

Random Customer: “But I was here! She just walked up and started drinking it!”

Barista: “Yes, because she paid for it. You walked in just after she got up to go to the restroom. It is her coffee; now leave her alone, or you’ll have to leave.”

(This apparently embarrassed the random customer enough to shut up. Later, Mum dropped her walking stick to the floor, and the same random customer who accused her of drinking someone else’s drink came over, picked it up for her, and walked off without another word.)

(I work at a large grocery store chain, often as the guy watching self checkout. It’s a busy sort of night, all the other lanes have a line, and self check has three people there, when a man shows up with an armful of items. I watch him proceed to run each item by itself, in separate transactions, in order to get $100 cash back each time. After the seventh item, the machine starts resorting to giving out smaller bills for a portion of the change, and then on the eight item it gives the man an error message.)

Customer: *immediately turns to me* “What sort of system are you running here?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir?”

Customer: “It’s not giving me my money! What sort of system are you running?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. Let me check it.”

(I walk up to the machine and log in; all the while this man is standing so close I can feel his breath on my neck. Just as I thought, the machine is overdrawn.)

Me: “No more money left in the machine. Here, let me take you over to my drawer.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! How can there not be money in there?!”

(I look at him, honestly unsure whether or not he’s joking.)

Me: “Well, sir, we fill it up a certain amount each night.”

(I make a quick call for one of my managers and hit the button to call for a drawer opening, and while I’m waiting for that I put the closed sign on his register.)

Customer: “So? What’s your point?”

(He’s getting more and more angry the longer it takes me to open my drawer. I can’t technically do it myself; it requires approval, and since we’re pretty busy it’s taking longer than usual.)

Me: “Well, sir, you’re not the only one getting cash back out of that machine, and you got over seven hundred dollars.”

Customer: “Are you going to give me my f****** money or not?!”

Me: “I’m trying, sir, but I have to wait on my boss to open my drawer.”

Customer: *starts fidgeting, and glaring at me* “Just give me my f****** money!”

Boss: *finally shows up* “Hey, [My Name], what seems to be the problem here?”

Customer: “This a** refuses to give me my money!”

(I quickly get out of the manager’s way so she can open my drawer, and she hands him his money which he practically rips from her hands.)

Customer: “F****** finally! You a**holes really need to learn to put the g**d*** customer first!” *kicks a nearby self check machine on his way out* “And fix these d*** things!”

(Everyone, including me, my boss, and the other customers in self checkout watch him go.)

Me: “What do you think?”

Boss: “He’s on something.”

Customer #2: “Or he’s a d**k.”

Customer #3: “Both.”

Customer #2: “Oh, yeah, or both. Probably both.”

(I am a customer in a grocery store that offers free childcare while you are shopping. I have just dropped off my child, filled out the forms, and taken the pager. I turn to leave the window and find an older woman customer right behind me.)

Customer: “You can’t leave your child here. They don’t get paid to watch your kid. In my day we watched our own kids.”

Me: “This is the childcare. They do watch your child.”

Employee: “Yes, ma’am. This is free childcare while you shop.”

Customer: “They have actual jobs! You can’t leave your child here!”

(I walk around the woman to start shopping. She begins to follow me.)

Customer: “Don’t you walk away and leave your child here! I will call the police!”

(I ignore her and keep walking. She follows, but I see the store manager coming my way.)

Manager: “Is there a problem here?”

Customer: “Yes! She just dumped her child on one of your employees and expects them to watch the child while she shops.”

Manager: “Ma’am, that’s what the childcare is for. We watch your child while you shop.”

Customer: “Well, in my day…”

(I manage to get down the next aisle and continue my shopping. A few minutes later I end up at the end of a completely different aisle where this customer is now berating a stocker.)

Customer: “I can’t believe your manager wouldn’t do anything. I’m going to need the corporate contact number.”

Stocker: “Ma’am, for the record, I’m only working here because the store on [Street] had to close their childcare center because it wasn’t used enough. I’m going to college, and that store was closer to me. When the childcare center closed, I had my choice of being laid off or coming here to work stock. Are you really telling me you want my coworkers to lose their jobs in the childcare center? Really?”

(She finally wandered off, grumbling under her breath. I still don’t know why she thought it was terrible to leave my child in the childcare center where the employees are, in fact, paid to watch them.)

Customer: “Hi. What size scoops do you have?”

Me: “We have a kid-size scoop, which is half of a single scoop, a double scoop, and a triple.”

Customer: “And that’s only for bowls?”

Me: “Nope! The same sizing goes for all cones and bowls.”

Customer: “Okay, I’ll have a shallot scoop of butter pecan in a regular cone.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “A shallot size of butter pecan.”

Me: “Do you mean a single scoop?”

Customer: “No, a shallot.”

(I am still in training and wondering if there is actually a shallot size that I have not learned about.)

Me: “Um, okay.”

(I go to get a regular-sized single scoop and hand it to the customer.)

Customer: *looks at cone, and up at me, strangely, pays, and walks away*

Me: *towards other coworker* “Um, did you guys not tell me about a shallot size?”

Coworker: “No… what’s a shallot?”

Me: “A little onion!”

(I work at a grocery store just outside of a large town. The town itself has a bad enough reputation with drugs; do I need to mention the drunks? I’m working when an older man stumbles out of a car parked in front of the door. Note that you can see into almost the whole store because of giant windows.)

Coworker: “Oh, great.”

Me: “What?”

Coworker: *whispering* “See that guy who just walked in? He comes in pretty often, and he’s always drunk.”

(I cringe, hoping I won’t have to ring him through. Unfortunately, I have to, but my coworker stays with me because this is the first time I’ve had to deal with a customer in this state.)

Customer: *unintelligible mumbling then drops his credit card on the till*

Me: *ignores mumbling and rings through items* “Sir, you need your card to pay; you’re using [Credit Card]?”

Customer: *stares*

Me: “Sir, your card.”

Customer: *continues staring then mumbles something about cigarettes*

Coworker: *manages to decipher his gibberish* “You’re looking for [Brand of Cigarettes].”

Customer: *slurs something in agreement*

Coworker: *leaves for two minutes then returns with the cigarettes* “Sir, your card, right there; you need it.” *points to card*

Customer: “O-Oh! Yee…” *takes the card and can’t seem to figure out how to put the card in* “You do it…”

(I smile nervously and insert the card into the machine. The customer miraculously remembers his PIN — no idea how because he is HAMMERED — takes his groceries and leaves.)

Me: “[Coworker]… He really can’t be driving when he’s drunk… Have you called the police?”

Coworker: “I have; they won’t do anything about it. It’s ridiculous!”

Me: *cringes as I watch him fall over onto a bunch of seasonal flowers* “He just crushed the mums.”

Coworker: *flinches, glaring out the door* “Yeah…”

Customer #2: “Was that guy… drunk? Is he okay?”

Coworker: “He was hammered.”

Customer #2: “Geez, why does this town have so many problems?”