(The store I work at sells chocolate liqueurs. Because they are alcoholic, I cannot sell them to anyone who doesn’t have an ID on them. A couple of young women come up, and seeing the liqueurs by the register, put a couple in with their purchase.)

Me: “I’ll need to see some ID for those.”

Customer: “Oh, I left my ID in the car.”

Me: “I can hold onto your stuff while you go get it.”

Customer: “I don’t want to go all the way to my car and back!”

Me: *moving the liqueurs aside* “All right. I’ll just put those back, then.”

Customer: “But, I want them.”

Me: “I’ll need to see your ID.”

Customer: “It’s in the car!”

Me: “I can hold your stuff for you while you go get it.”

Customer: “Look, I LOOK old enough to drink, don’t I?”

Me: “Yes…”

(Smiling, the woman nudges the liqueurs back into her pile of stuff. I promptly nudge them back out.)

Me: “My underage sister LOOKS old enough, as well.”

Customer: “But I want those!”

Me: “I’ll need to see your ID.”

Customer: “It’s in the CAR!”

(I work in a kiosk candy shop located in a popular shopping mall. Because of the location in the middle of the floor, some people don’t realise that we’re closed. I am cashing up after a long day. The gates that close off the kiosk have been closed and padlocked. The entire shopping centre has been closed for a good 15 minutes.)

Customer: “Are you still open? I know exactly what I want so I’ll be quick.”

Me: *thinking this guy is messing with me, I play along* “Yeah, sure, but only if you can manage to get over the gate.”

Customer: *to his friend* “Yo, they’re still open! Give me a hand getting over this gate!”

Me: “Ah, sorry, I was just kidding around with you. We actually closed over 20 minutes ago. I’m just running late.”

Customer: “But… I can still get lollies, right?”

(Whenever we have customers that don’t see past their own nose, I always have a bit of a joke with them and they laugh along. This was the first customer that actually thought I was serious.)

(I’ve just finished ringing up a woman whose teenage son was holding her purse for her while she paid. Once I close the register and hand her her change, I turn away to deal with some small chores behind the counter.)

Woman: “Give me my purse.”

Son: “… It makes me look beautiful.”

(I look back in time to see the son trying to run away, as his mother attempts to wrestle the purse from him.)

Son: *desperately clinging to purse* “It makes me look gorgeous!”

(I’m ringing up a man and a woman. The woman is wearing a shirt and a couple of rubber bracelets that reference running in Boston.)

Me: *indicating her shirt* “You from up north?”

Woman: “Hmm? Oh, no. That was just a run I was in.”

Me: “Ah. I used to live about an hour out of Boston.”

(I finish ringing them up and hand the woman her change.)

Man: “You don’t sound like you’re from Boston.”

Me: “Well, I pick up accents pretty quick, and I’ve been in Louisiana for a year, so I guess I wouldn’t sound much like I’m from Boston anymore.”

Man: “I mean, you’re polite.”

Me: *laughing* “You haven’t seen me in the car!”

(I work in a candy store. Our credit card machine has been out of service for a couple of days. We have a sign at the register, but I’ve been trying to let everyone know as they come into the store so that I don’t have to sort and restock large purchases when they turn out to not have enough money. I’ve just told a woman and her kids that the machine is broken and we’re taking cash/checks only.)

Woman: “Oh! Well, I do have some cash on me, so we should be okay.”

(She turns to her children.)

Woman: “I don’t have a lot of money, so we can all only get a little bit of candy, okay?”

Middle Daughter: *outraged* “Do you know how expensive I am in stores like this?!”

This story is part of our Kids-In-Candy-Stores roundup!

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