(My store sells candy individually or by weight. A woman has just set her by-weight candy on the counter when the teenage girl behind her picks up a sucker.)

Teen: “How much is this?”

Me: “Twenty-nine cents, plus tax.”

(She tries to hand me the sucker.)

Me: “I’ll be with you in a moment. I just need to ring her up first.”

(I pick up the woman’s candy. The teen girl attempts to hand me the sucker again.)

Me: “Just a moment.”

(I put the woman’s candy on the scale, and she attempts to hand me the sucker again. This continues to happen with EVERY step of ringing the woman out: weighing the candy, punching the price into the register, giving the woman her total, taking her money, giving back her change, and tying the bag up for her. Finally, I can actually take and ring up the sucker.)

Me: “Thirty-two cents, please.”

Teen: “You said twenty-nine.”

Me: “…plus tax.”

(She paid and left without a fuss, but I have no idea why she simply wouldn’t acknowledge that I was helping the woman standing between us!)

(I’m in a candy store shortly before Valentine’s Day. A customer and her elementary-school-age son come in. She’s helping him find candy he can share with his class.)

Clerk: “Maybe these?”

(He shows her a box of those little pastel hearts that have messages printed on them.)

Customer: “Okay, we’ll get those! But we also need something for the boys.”

Clerk: “Oh, uh… You mean, a candy that’s more… masculine?”

(The clerk looks surprised, probably because this is a strongly LGBTQ neighborhood, so it’s odd to hear someone assigning a gender to something like candy. Still, he tries to help.)

Customer: “Oh, what about these for the boys? Candy cigarettes.”

Clerk: “Uh, uh, okay…”

(She and her son go to check out. After a moment of banter…)

Clerk: “Would you also like to buy some of our Breaking Bad candy crystal meth?”

Customer: “What?!”

Clerk: “Well, uh… to go along with your candy cigarettes…”

(I see a boy come into the store and go right for the candy. I follow him and he detours but comes back to the candy moments later. I see him take candy with his hands, instead of the scoop provided, and no bag, meaning he’s going to steal it.)

Me: “Sorry, no tasting of candy allowed. It’s stealing.”

Kid: “I was gonna pay for it.”

Me: *not believing him* “Oh, really? Well, then, I can help you at the front.” *grabs a bag, puts his candy in it, and gets him to follow me to the front*

Kid: “I don’t have any money.”

Me: “So, you weren’t stealing candy, and you were gonna pay for it, but you don’t have any money? Listen, kid. I’ve gotten people kicked out of the mall for stealing but I’m giving you a chance to pay.”

(Then, some random woman who has been listening nearby pops into the conversation.)

Woman: “I’ll pay. How much is it?”

Me: “The total came to 75 cents.”

Woman: “Here. You know, I don’t like your attitude.”

Me: “Excuse me? I caught this kid stealing—“

Woman: “How did you know he was stealing?”

Me: “Well, he took candy with his hands, without using a bag, and he said he didn’t have any money.”

Woman: “Your attitude is horrible! What’s your name?”

(I give her my name and, despite me wearing a nametag, she spells it wrong.)

Woman: “What’s your last name?”

Me: “I don’t have to give that to you.”

Woman: “What’s your badge number?”

Me: “Let me just call my manager.”

(She rants to my manager, and afterward, he pulls me aside.)

Manager: “You did nothing wrong; don’t worry.”

(That was the first time I saw someone stand up for someone stealing!)

(I’m working the chocolate display case in a candy store when a woman approaches me.)

Customer: “How much are the chocolate pretzels?”

Me: *speaking normally* “Well, they’re sold by weight, but they’re usually around two or three dollars.”

Customer: *angrily* “Well, sorry to bother you!”

(I try to process what just happened while the woman walks over to my coworker.)

Woman: “How much are the chocolate pretzels?”

Coworker: “They’re sold by weight, usually around two or three dollars.”

Woman: “Thank you. I’ll have some!”

(To this day I still don’t understand how I offended her.)

(In 2012, I’m getting ready to move to Louisiana with my boyfriend, and as the moving date gets closer, I’m excited enough that I’ve started yapping about it to customers every so often. Most of them have fairly generic, “Good for you,” “Have fun,” and, “Aw, romance,” type responses. Some of them suggest specific restaurants and attractions I should visit if I’m in the right area. However, one guy’s advice sticks out to me in particular.)

Customer: “Stay away from New Orleans. That’s a murder city.”

(My now-husband’s father lives in New Orleans, and we visit him regularly. I’m pretty sure I haven’t been murdered yet.)