(Our bookstore has several locations. I used to work in a mall in my hometown, but for about four months I have been working in our store in the next town over. I am shopping in the mall, and I wait in line in a store that’s not too far from the bookstore.)

Customer: *in line behind me* “Excuse me. Do you carry [Series of Books] at [Bookstore]?”

Me: *a bit confused, as I don’t know her* “Uh, yes. We do.”

Customer: “Great. Do you have [Title]?”

Me: “I’m sorry. I really don’t know. I work at a different location now, so I don’t know the stock of this location.”

Customer: “Oh. I thought you knew. I will call them when I get home, and ask.”

Me: “All right.”

(I just thought, “…OR you could just go and have a look.”)

(My store has baskets of candy placed on the register counter for associates to suggestive-sell to customers. I see a small child nearly tipping the basket over trying to see what is inside.)

Me: “You want to know what’s in that basket?”

Little Girl: *nods*

Me: “Spiders.”

Little Girl: *jumps back* “Ew!”

Nearby Coworker: “I am never letting you near my kids!”

(The little girl’s mom thought it was funny, though.)

(I’m browsing through a well-known bookstore that also has a music section. As I’m walking down one of the center aisles, I pass by a display advertising a special line of reprinted vinyl albums the store is bringing in for an event. There are three guys, all around fifteen or sixteen years old, standing in front of the display. I’m in my late twenties, but I’ve always appreciated classic rock, Motown, etc. As I walk by them, I hear this gem:)

Teenager #1: “This is cool!”

Teenager #2: “Yeah, I didn’t know AC/DC made vinyl!”

(Cue me stopping mid-step and swiveling my head around like a deranged owl. I’m trying to decide if I should say something or save myself the headache and keep walking.)

Teenager #3: “I guess they can put anything on vinyl these days.”

Me: *under my breath as I keep walking* “Nope, not worth it.”

(Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who heard them. I saw an employee on the other side of the aisle looking like he wanted to bang his head against the wall. Ah, youth.)

(I am working at the registers with a line of people. A man on his phone comes to the registers and puts his books on the counter without acknowledging me or pausing in his conversation. He puts a finger to his lips when I greet him. I stifle the urge to sigh, and ring up his items.)

Me: “Your total is [total], sir.”

(He turns his back on me and continues talking.)

Me: *louder* “Your total is [total], sir.”

(He sticks a finger in his other ear and walks to the farthest point of the registers with his back to me. I turn to the lady who is next in line with huge eyes, look down at the pile of books in front of me, then gather them all up and set them on a shelf behind me. I suspend the transaction and call the lady forward.)

Lady: “Don’t worry, hun. He’s a rude jerk.”

Me: “Thanks, ma’am. Sorry for the wait.”

Lady: “Don’t apologize, dear. You aren’t responsible for his bad manners.”

(I get through three customers before he comes back and cuts in front of the rest of the line. He stares while I retrieve his books and redo the transaction, and then he wordlessly pays and walks off. I get through my line and a manager approaches.)

Manager: “A man just complained that you ignored him and helped three people before helping him.”

(I explain the situation, and the manager merely frowns.)

Manager: “Well, you know, some customers don’t appreciate you stopping their transaction.”

Me: “And the twelve customers behind him would not have appreciated being forced to wait for him to come back. Do you want one complaint, or twelve?”

(The manager just sighed and walked away.)

(I’ve worked for this store for around three years, in three different locations. Tonight was the first time I’ve ever encountered a customer that made me want to take a shower after speaking to him. About five minutes before my shift ends, a customer calls and asks about a kids’ book called “Trick or Treat.” I know we haven’t received our stock of Halloween books yet, but I figure I can go ahead and order him one.)

Me: “Do you know the author’s name?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Okay, do you know if there’s any special character or animal associated with it, such as [Popular Children’s Book Character #1] or [Popular Children’s Book Character #2]?”

Customer: “No, it’s just called Trick or Treat.“

Me: “Well, unfortunately there’s many books with that title, so without a character or author I can’t order it for you.”

Customer: “Try [Author].”

Me: “She does have a book called Trick or Treat, Smell My Feet. Is that the book you’re looking for?”

Customer: “What’s the title?”

Me: “Trick or Treat, Smell My Feet.”

Customer: “Wow, really? What’s the description?”

(I pull up the blurb and tell him the first couple of sentences. He asks me to repeat the title and then the description once more. Alarm bells start ringing in my head and I remind him that the book is not in store and that we won’t have any Halloween books for a couple of days or more.)

Customer: “Right, I guess I’ll try again in a few weeks. What about books on torture?”

Me: *pause* “In the… children’s section?”

(Yes, I did say it exactly like that. This being my second day at this new location, my new coworkers definitely give me some strange looks at this point.)

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Sir, the children’s section won’t have books like that.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. What about in your historical war reference section?”

(Those alarm bells from earlier are now a full-fledged siren. Around a year or so ago, I heard a story about a guy who would call stores until he got a female worker and then ask them to describe different books, which was later determined to be his kinks. These books included torture books, especially foot torture. Now I’m just looking to get off the phone in as quick as a manner possible.)

Me: “We don’t have any in the store, unfortunately; do you have an author in mind?”

Customer: “What about [Author]?”

Me: “Unfortunately, my system doesn’t pull anything up for that author.”

Customer: “Oh, that’s too bad.”

Me: “Have a great night, sir.”

(I hung up the phone, called my manager, and told him I was leaving, and clocked out before the phone could ring again.)