(I drop off a prescription at the pharmacy counter.)

Pharmacist: “We’re pretty busy. Do you want to wait or come back in about an hour?”

Me: “I have some other errands to run. I’ll come back around 1:30.”

Pharmacist: “That should be fine.”

(I come back about 1:40. The woman ahead of me in line at the pick-up counter is obviously angry and snarking at the shy, young pharmacist. Eventually, she steams off.)

Me: “Hi. Do you have a prescription ready for [My Name]?”

Pharmacist: “I’m so sorry. We’ve been really busy. It will probably be another fifteen minutes or so. Would you like us to deliver it to your home?”

Me: “Oh, no. That’s fine. I’ll just run over to [supermarket] and come back.”

(About twenty minutes later:)

Pharmacist: “We’re just getting your order together. Do you mind having a seat for a couple of minutes?”

Me: “No problem.”

(A few minutes later, she calls me up to get my prescription.)

Pharmacist: “Thank you so much for being so patient. I’ve already had two people yell at me today.”

Me: “No problem. It’s not like it was your fault.”

Pharmacist: “They don’t seem to care about that. Thank you so much again.”

Me: “Hope your day gets better.”

(I’m helping out a friend who is managing a booth at one of the biggest video game swap meets in Canada. It’s pretty busy, and people are offering quite a few high-value trades. We have a bin of common, relatively cheap NES games at the front; the most expensive is Super Mario Bros 3 at $30. A kid, about 12, zones in and grabs it as soon as the swap meet opens.)

Kid: “How much for the Mario?” *ignoring the sticker price on it*

Me: “It’s $30, sir.”

Kid: “Can you do $15?”

Me: “Sorry, no can do.”

(The kid puts it back without saying a word, but he roams around and browses our tables a few more times. Eventually, he comes back with a tacky Chewbacca bobblehead that’s probably worth a few bucks.)

Kid: “Hey, can you do a trade for this?” *waves the Chewbacca bobblehead in my face*

Me: “All trades have to go through my boss. I’ll let you talk to him.”

Boss: *comes up after a minute* “Hey, what do you have there?”

Kid: “Will you trade this Chewbacca bobblehead for Mario 3?”

Boss: “Sorry, I’m not really interested in taking toys.”

Kid: *pause* “So, will you trade this for Mario 3?”

Boss: “Sorry, but no.”

Kid: “How about if I trade a game with it?”

Boss: “Depends on what you bring me.”

Kid: “What if I trade two games with it?”

Boss: “It still depends on what you bring me.”

Kid: “So… will you do $15 for this and some games?”

Boss: “I’d still need to see which games.”

(My boss then walked away, and the kid just gave a frustrated look and wandered off. He came by at least one more time, still holding that Chewbacca bobblehead. I know he’s a kid, but he was still old enough to know no means no.)

(The store where I work is going out of business, so everything is currently a final sale. We are under court order to not do any returns, exchanges, or anything of the sort. It’s stated all over the store, as well as on the receipt, plus every cashier tells the customer before they make a purchase. On this day, we have already dealt with a power outage before we started working and some technical issues once the power was back. Before we open the doors, many of us notice a woman standing with one of our bags. We know what’s going to happen and since I am the most senior employee at the cash, I tell them I’ll handle it once she is inside. When we finally open the doors, she comes right up to the side of the registers. My coworkers look over at me, so I go to her.)

Customer: *looking like she will cry at any moment* “I got this coat yesterday, but I’d tried on a medium and thought it was small. So, I took a large and tried it. It fit, but then I put it back, and then I grabbed it again, but I guess I took XL by accident. I wanted to just exchange it for the right size, please.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there’s absolutely no returns or exchanges or anything like that anymore.”

Customer: *still looks like she might cry, but her eyes are clear* “What? Can I talk to your manager? Maybe she could help.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but these aren’t the manager’s orders. We are under court order and cannot do any returns or exchanges. It’s all over the store, and we tell everyone for exactly that reason.”

Customer: *completely changes her mood; she is now mad* “Well, that’s just great! You know what? I’ve been shopping here for years, and I will never shop here again!”

Me: “Well, we are going out of business, so really, it doesn’t matter.”

(The customer then stormed off. My coworker was still working on opening the doors when she walked out, and she told us later that the customer was calling us all sorts of names and swearing at us. I thought it was funny, as did most of my coworkers.)

(I work in a toy and game store that specializes in board games and other novelties. One of our sections is for adults — mostly drinking games, shot glasses, and other adult novelties. One of the items happens to be a pair of metal handcuffs that can be locked and unlocked with a key. They are definitely not a toy for kids.)

Kid: “Do you have handcuffs?”

Coworker: “Uh… technically, yes. But they’re not a toy. They’re metal.”

(The kid’s mom catches on pretty quickly and laughs. The kid, of course, does not understand.)

Kid: “Well, can I see them?

Mom: “No, they’re not meant for kids. We’ll look somewhere else.”

Kid: “Who are they meant for?”

Coworker: *getting desperate* “They’re, um… decoration. They’re not toys. You wouldn’t want to use them. They might get stuck, and you don’t want to have metal handcuffs stuck on you.”

Kid: “What are they used for?”

(The mom can’t hold back a laugh at this point.)

Mom: “They’re not used for anything. Let’s go.”

(The family left, though the kid still seemed disappointed to not get a pair of toy handcuffs. When they were out of the store, my coworker and I burst out laughing. We sometimes get kids asking about toy handcuffs, but none of them asked for as much detail as this kid.)

(My coworker is taking orders for the drive-thru and a customer comes through.)

Coworker: “Welcome to [Coffee Shop]. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “I want a chicken wrap.”

Coworker: “What wrap would you like?”

Customer: “A chicken wrap.”

Coworker: “What type of wrap would you like?”

Customer: “Chipotle chicken wrap.”

Coworker: “With the crispy chicken or the grilled?”

Customer: “Chipotle wrap.”

Coworker: *getting annoyed* “With the grilled or the crispy chicken?”

Customer: *mumbles something about potato wedges*

Coworker: *getting louder and more annoyed, though still maintaining a chipper customer service voice* “Would you like the grilled chicken or the crispy? I need to know what kind of chicken you would like to continue the order.”

Customer: “Also potato wedges.”

Coworker: *snapping* “Do you want the grilled or the crispy chicken, or I can decide for you?!”

Customer: *mumbles something* “Crispy.”

Coworker: *back to chipper voice* “Great! Crispy chicken. Would you like anything else?”

(The customer finishes their order without incident.)

Coworker: “All right, that will be [total] at the window.” *turns around to face me* “Oh, my God! Did anybody hear that?”

Me: “I just heard you kept talking about what chicken they wanted.”

Coworker: “That was infuriating.”