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?”

(My brother goes to university while working part time in a small restaurant. His boss is a middle-aged man who constantly gets angry over the smallest things, but all in all is a good guy. His restaurant is in a mostly French-speaking area, but his French is bad and he usually communicates with his staff in English. He recently had a lot of trouble finding and keeping waiters. His wife is also sick with cancer and hasn’t got long to live.)

Boss: “Hey, [Brother], do you think you could work the night shift on Wednesday? [Other Waiter] just quit and didn’t give notice, and we have nobody to cover that shift.”

Brother: “Hm… not really. I’ve got a final exam the morning after, and I need the time to study. Can’t [Other Waitress] work it?”

Boss: “No, she’s already scheduled at her other job. You’re sure you can’t do it? It’s just…” *at this point he starts tearing up* “I would work the shift myself, even if my French is bad, but it’s my wife last chemo treatment on Wednesday and I can’t make it back in time. It won’t cure her but it will give her a little more time with us. I’d close the restaurant for the night but business hasn’t been very good lately, and I can’t afford to turn away customers. Please…”

(His boss actually starts sobbing. He’s someone with very conservative values, the kind of person who thinks men should not be seen crying.)

Brother: “Okay, I’ll work the shift under two conditions. First, I serve the customers and nothing else. I’ll bring my books and study during the down times, if there are any. And after we close, I do the bare minimum cleaning and will leave the rest to the morning guys. How is that?”

Boss: “Okay! No problem. You bring your book, and you study while you work! Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me.”

(Since then, his boss has always been very thankful towards my brother. My brother ended up not being able to study much during his shift because there were too many customers. He studied after his shift and barely passed his exam. He never did regret that decision, though. As he told me, sacrificing one good grade was worth it to bring a little peace to someone in a very difficult situation. The only thing he regrets was not being there for the wife’s funeral, as he moved to another city before she passed away.)

(A customer calls in and my coworker picks up. The customer thinks she left a bag here with a purchase in it. My coworker says there isn’t anything left. The customer says she’ll call back to talk to someone else.)

Customer: “Hi, it’s [Customer] calling. About my bag.”

Me: “What kind of bag was it?”

Customer: “It was a white bag. I left it in your store.”

Me: “Unfortunately nothing was found in our store.”

Customer: “Why did the other girl know what the bag looked like?”

Me: “Well, [Product] usually comes in that kind of bag.”

Customer: “I want to speak to your manager.”

Me: “I’m the assistant manager.”

Customer: “Who’s the owner?”

Me: “The head office is in Montreal, if you’d like the number.”

Customer: *yelling* “So, this is how you do business? When a customer leaves their purchases there, you just keep them?”

Me: “I’m sorry you misplaced your [Product]. I understand that’s frustrating. But I absolutely do not appreciate you accusing me or my employees of stealing. Perhaps you set it down somewhere, but I can assure you we did not take it.”

Customer: “Well. I’m going to remember this.”

(A few hours later I get another phone call.)

Customer: “I don’t know if I was speaking with you earlier, but I wanted to apologize. I yelled at you on the phone about my [Product]. I found it in my purse. I just really wanted to apologize for my behaviour.”

(Our grocery store recently added coupons to other stores on the back of our receipts. It helps offset the price of till paper, because other companies are paying us for the advertisement space. Apparently this is a brand-new concept to some. A customer places five blocks of cheese on the counter.)

Me: “All righty, sir, that will be $23.54.”

Customer: “I have a coupon.”

(I start looking for anything indicating a discount, which some of our receipts will print, if you buy gas from our adjacent gas bar. He reaches over and tugs the receipt out of my hand, and turns it backwards.)

Me: *immediately aware of where this is going* “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t see anything—”

Customer: “Right there! $20 off in-store purchase!”

Me: “Sorry, sir, this is for [Family-Owned Music Store], not our store.”

Customer: *tugs the receipts over again* “It’s says, ‘[Our Store],’ on the front! Right there!”

(I kept trying to explain the advertisements on the back to him, and he kept getting angrier, until I finally snapped, “It’s not our store!” He then grabbed his cheese and marched off in a huff, and I was forced follow him because I needed to rescan the cheese to get it off my till.)