(I am the stupid customer here. I am at a mall, where I have just opened a new bank account. I decide to do some shopping an a popular store when I remember that I still need to cancel my old account. I decide to do this over the phone.)

Bank employee: *on phone* Okay, we’re almost done. Do you know there’s a fee to cancel?

Me: yes

Employee: Normally we would take the fee out of your current balance but it appears that you don’t have any money in your account.

Me: Oh, I transferred it to my new one. Can I pay by credit card?

Employee: Of course. Your total is [fee], please state your credit card number.

Me: *loud and clear* It’s [number]

Employee: Now I need your PIN.

Me: 1234.

(I finish the transaction and hang up. An employee at the store I’m in comes up to me.)

Store employee: Excuse me, I heard you from 2 aisles down and I would highly recommend you freeze your credit card and change your PIN.

(Yes, I had just stated all my credit card information as loud and clear as I could in the middle of a crowded store. Luckily I was able to change my PIN before anything happened.)

(I work in a large professional music store in Vancouver and we serve all types.)

Me: “Hey, what can I get you?”

Customer: “I’m the guitar player for Melissa Etheridge. I need some guitar strings.”

Me: “Oh, okay. Cool.”

(I notice his tour tag around his neck that he apparently needed to wear outside the concert venue for our enjoyment.)

Me: “What kind of strings do you need?”

Customer: “Guitar strings, bud.”

Me: “Okay, what kind of guitar strings?”

Customer: “Six-string.”

Me: “Acoustic or electric?”

Customer: “What do you mean?”

Me: *puzzled* “Do you need strings for an electric guitar or an acoustic guitar?”

Customer: “Electric.”

Me: “What brand and gauge of string do you want?”

Customer: “Yuppers. Electric.”

Me: “Do you want Ernie Ball? D’Addario’s?” 

Customer: “I don’t know. Whatever.”

Me: “Do you use a particular brand?”

Customer: “’Lectrics, usually.”

Me: “Okay… What gauge?”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “What gauge do you use? Lights, Extra Lights, Medium…”

Customer: “Dude, they’re not cigs, they’re strings.”

Me: “I know that but they come in different gauges, depending on what you like. I use lights, for example.”

Customer: *cocky* “Oh, so you’re a player? Ever play in concert? Like in front of a ton of screaming fans?”

Me: “I’ve played some cool gigs, but nothing like Melissa Etheridge. Maybe a thousand people at most.”

Customer: *laughs condescendingly* “Dude, that’s pretty bad. Small-time.”

Me: *annoyed* “Well, at least I know what gauge I use. That’s gotta be worth something. How is it that you play with Melissa Etheridge but you don’t know what strings or gauge you use? Are you sure you play with her?”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “Let’s go over to the guitar area and maybe you can show me some licks.” 

Customer: “Dude, I don’t have time for that. It’s not guitar lesson time.”

Me: “Surely you’ve got two minutes to whip off some licks? Here, just wait and I’ll get a guitar.”

Customer: “Dude, I gotta go here. I gotta get back.”

(He starts leaving the store.)

Me: “What about the strings?”

Customer: *out the door* “No time!”

(Turns out he was most likely just a roadie as he certainly wasn’t the guitar tech, who would have known about such things.)

(I am working the closing shift alone in the meat department, which means rushing between cleaning and sanitizing the back and filling and arranging the displays in the customer area for the morning. While bringing out meat to fill the cases, I see two young foreign women — who I take to be students from the local college — puzzling over the steaks.)

Me: “Can I help you find anything?”

Student #1: *in broken English* “Yes, we’re wondering why these—” *pointing to the top display* “—are so much more expensive than these—” *pointing to the lower display*

(I explain the difference between the more expensive “grilling” steaks that you can just slap on the BBQ — sirloin, T-bone, etc. — and the less expensive “marinating” steaks like the round cuts that, well, need to be marinated to make them more tender. I give them advice on how to do this, suggest slow cooking as an option, and basically offer them all the help I can, realizing they are students on a tight budget and with no obvious culinary skills. After about ten minutes, they seem to get it, and I hurry off to continue stocking. As I’m returning to grab more meat from the back, they stop me.)

Student #2: *with a quite bewildered expression* “About these outside round steaks… Do you have to cook them outside?”

Me: *sighing* “It’s not necessary, but we do recommend it.”

A beautiful tall lady walks in, with glorious blonde hair, fur coat to the floor, and with a machismo-bitch thing going on.

“Hello there, how’s it going? Do you have an appointment today?”

With her nose turned up, takes off her majestic fur coat, hands it–no, sticks it to my face-and says “Uh-huh. Yes. Yes. Table for two, please. Yes?” in a thick Russian accent.

“I’m sorry?”

She looked around the salon full of clients with foils in their hair and towels on their shoulders, stylists milling around with scissors and brushes, and the works. Seemingly unfazed by this and now irritated, she barked at me again, “For two! Table for two, please! Right away! And I’m having dinner with the gentleman. He’s here, yes?”

(Oooooh, girl. First of all, turn down the attitude. And secondly, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about)

Guess she had a date. With THE gentleman.

“Oh, I’m sorry but this is a hair salon…” I said.

“What?!!!” She looked around one more time, her face slowly turned red as she realized where she was. “Ah! No! Oh my God! Sorry! So sorry!” she said, all embarrassed and now all friendly. She quickly snatched her fur coat from me and stormed out, before I could finish saying “…perhaps you meant to go to the restaurant two doors down?”

Did she have a blind date? Did she get punked? Is it normal to dine out with foils in your hair in Russia? Do servers there cut your hair while you eat?

So many questions.

(I’m a customer in a popular chain drug store looking at their makeup section when [Old Lady #1] and [Old Lady #2] come looking for lipstick.)

Old Lady #1: “Do they have our lipstick shade here?”

Old Lady #2: “Oh, I hope they do.”

(They look in silence for about two minutes and [Old Lady #1] turns to me.)

Old Lady #1: “Excuse me, young lady? Could you help us find [Lipstick Brand] in [shade]?”

Me: “Oh, of course!”

(I scan the lipsticks and find the shade they need.)

Me: “Here it is! This is the one you needed, right?”

Old Lady #2: “No, no! That’s not it! We got it in a different packaging!”

(One of the employees walks up.)

Employee: “Excuse me, ladies, can I help you find anything?”

(Seeing as they’ve been helped, I slither away to another aisle. I come back when I hear some slight yelling.)

Old Lady #1: “No, you dumb twit! I told you that’s not the package our lipstick comes in!”

Employee: “As I’ve told you, multiple times, this is a new packaging but it’s the exact lipstick you’re looking for.”

Old Lady #2: “What don’t you understand? This is not our lipstick!”

(The employee, visibly irritated, pulls the lipstick out of the package and puts a swatch on her hand.)

Employee: “You see, ladies? This is the exact lipstick shade you needed. Is it not?”

(The two old ladies look rather embarrassed, take the lipstick, and scuttle off.)

Me: “Well, that was a handful.”

Employee: “Tell me about it.”