(Black Friday at [Bookstore] is never very crazy, because we don’t usually do special deals or anything. All the employees bring food for a potluck dinner on Black Friday so that we don’t have to brave the crazy streets to get lunch. Out of the ten years I have worked there, they have only done an early bird special one year. The first 100 sales of a particular ereader are to be heavily discounted. We open at seven am and I am scheduled to come in at six to help open the store. When I get there at 5:50, there is already a line of about 30 people standing outside and waiting so they can get their cheap ereader. I walk up to the front door, wearing my name tag and carrying a crockpot full of food for our potluck. When I knock on the locked door for someone to let me in, a customer steps out of line and loudly clears her throat.)

Customer: “Um, excuse me. They aren’t open yet, and the line is back there.” *points to the back of the line of people*

Me: “Yes, obviously I need to get in the back of the line, because I just wear this name tag because it’s pretty. And this crockpot full of food? It’s a snack for later on.”

Customer’s Husband: “Um, honey? I think she works here..”

Customer: *blinks* “Well, there’s no need to be rude about it. I would like to speak to your manager, young lady. Your smart a** will be fired by the time I’m done with you.”

(My manager has unlocked the door to let me in and has heard the majority of the conversation.)

Manager: “I’m her manager, ma’am, and I’m sorry, but there is absolutely nothing I can do about what an employee says when they are off the clock.”

(She then let me in and closed the door in the customer’s stunned and offended face. Guess who ended up ringing the same customer up for her purchase later that morning? I was very pleased to tell her that she had misunderstood the ereader sale. It was the first 100 ereaders purchased that were discounted, and that the first 100 people in the store were not guaranteed a discounted ereader. I had sold the 100th ereader to the person in front of her in line.)

(I work in a very popular book store as a cashier. There is a wall between me and the kids section, but I can see a toy being thrown up and down.)

Child: *as loud as they can yell* “HERPES! HERPES!”

Child’s Mother: “NO, BABY, IT’S, ‘WHOOPEE!’”

(I work in a used bookstore that sells books and media. We often have large coffee table books for a dollar or two. A lady comes up to my register with an armload of large books and I ring her out.)

Me: “Would you like a bag or two for these?”

Customer: “IT’S YOUR ISSUE!”

Me: “Y…yes? Would a box be better? I can make a box!”

Customer: “IT’S YOUR ISSUE! IT’S YOUR ISSUE!”

(She waves off a box and quickly becomes exasperated, as if we are forcing her to buy this giant pile of giant books. I put them in a couple of bags. She’s still not happy.)

Customer: “HOW DO I CARRY?! IT’S YOUR ISSUE!”

Me: “I can help you to your car. Where are you going?”

Customer: “HOW FAR?!”

(I then realized that she was walking, and imagined carrying her books around town. I repeatedly asked where she lived but only got, “IT’S YOUR ISSUE,” in return. She came back a few more times and yelled, “IT’S YOUR ISSUE,” at different booksellers, to the point it became a catchphrase at the store. Was she on a personal crusade against bags? Or books? We still see her occasionally, but she has stopped buying large amounts of large books.)

Customer: “Excuse me. Do you have a notary public?”

Me: “No, sir. I’m afraid not.”

Customer: *smirks* “What, libraries don’t have notaries?”

Me: “I wouldn’t know, sir. This isn’t a library.”

Customer: *stops smirking* “It’s not?”

Me: “No, sir. It’s a bookstore. We sell books; we don’t loan them.”

Customer: “Well, do you know where I can find a notary around here?”

Me: “At nine pm, on a Sunday night? No, sir.”

Customer: *slinks away*

(I work in a bookstore. School is about to start, so we’ve had a lot of people coming in looking for dictionaries for their children. Usually this is not a complicated request, until this lady comes in.)

Lady: “Hi, I’m looking for a dictionary?”

Me: “Of course. They’re just over here.” *starts walking toward dictionaries*

Lady: “So, um… Is a dictionary the same as a thesis?”

Me: “You mean a thesaurus?”

Lady: “Yeah, that.”

Me: *shocked that she has no idea what a thesaurus is, or even what it’s called* “Um, no. Not at all. A dictionary tells you what a word means, and a thesaurus gives you other words that mean the same thing as that word.”

Lady: *still seems really confused* “Oh… Okay… So… Do I need both, then?”

Me: “I… couldn’t say. That’s really up to you.”

Lady: “Well, they only told me to get a dictionary. I thought they were the same thing.”

Me: “We do have packs that come with both, but if they only said to get a dictionary, then that’s probably all you need.”

Lady: “So, I don’t need to get both? But what if she needs it?”

Me: *deciding enough’s enough* “No, you won’t need a thesaurus. Just get the dictionary and you’ll be fine.”

Lady: “Oh, okay. Thank you for your help!”

(I’ve never had so much trouble with what should have been a very quick and simple request! Who on earth doesn’t know the difference between a dictionary and a thesaurus, or what either of them are for? And why did anyone send her to pick them up if she had no idea what she was looking for?)