(I am on a ladder putting up candy when I see two girls eating from the bulk bin below me. I warn them not to eat candy and direct them to where the bags are. I get called away by my manager and when I look back I see the girls eating candy from their bags.)

Me: “Guys, I already warned you once.”

Girl #1: “Okay, we’re f****** paying already.”

Me: “Let me help you at the front, then.”

(The unofficial rule at our store is if a customer is eating candy while in line, we add to their total weight to make them pay for it.)

Me: “I guess I’ll just add two for the candy you already ate. Do you have a [Store Card] for a discount?”

(They do and their candy comes up to $3.87 but they are upset that I added two grams. They demand to speak to my manager so I send a coworker to get her.)

Me: “Can you move over so I can help the rest of the line?”

Girl #1: “No.”

(However, my manager is, apparently, taking too long so they go to her. I finish with the line as they speak to my manager. I don’t know what they said but my manager brings them back to the front to call her supervisor. I don’t talk to the girls because I don’t want to make them angrier but they just rile themselves up anyway.)

Girl #2: “I’m going to rip your f****** limbs off, you minimum wage b****. I don’t know why you care so much for $11.25.”

(This isn’t what we make by the way. It is clear she’s never worked a minimum-wage job in her life.)

Me: “I’m going to get security. You cannot threaten me like that.”

(I get security but they just stand around and watch. My supervisor is unavailable so the girls take down my badge number and name and leave. After, I speak to the DM about what happened and he promises to back me up if the girls make a complaint.)

Coworker: “See, this is why I just let them steal!”

Me: “But if you just let them steal they’ll walk all over you!”

Coworker: “Eh, whatever. It’s not worth minimum wage.”

(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.)

(A woman is browsing my store when there is a sudden burst of loud, unintelligible screaming out in the hall.)

Customer: “What was that?!“

Me: “It’s a disabled man. His family or caretakers bring him to the mall every now and then.”

Customer: “Oh. Well, you never know, with all those terrorists out there.”

Me: “Okay, then.”