A friend and I, both aged eighteen and looking rather younger, are going to a grocery store to buy party supplies, and my mom asks me to buy some beer. We get to the checkout and notice a sign next to the register.

Sign: “You need to be eighteen to buy alcohol. All people who look younger than forty will need to show their ID. No exceptions.”

I pull my ID out, but then I realise that the cashier has already bagged our stuff and is counting our change.

Me: “Wait, aren’t you going to check our IDs?”

I point at the sign. The cashier stares at the sign for several seconds, then at us, then back at the sign.

Cashier: “Why?”

We look at each other, confused.

Friend: “It says there that you have to check our IDs for the beer.”

We try to hand her our IDs, but she doesn’t even move or acknowledge it.

The cashier stares at the conveyor belt.

Cashier: “Can you keep moving? You are holding up my line.”

We looked at the non-existent line, shrugged, and grabbed our things. As we were leaving the store, we spotted a manager walking over to the cashier looking ANGRY. We never saw that cashier again.

My sister and I are shopping at a recycled craft store that is mostly stocked with supplies that have been donated. For some reason, they have a bunch of weird plastic baby dolls. My sister suddenly decides she needs to buy this creepy, naked, plastic baby. We take it to the checkout with everything else and the cashier picks it up and looks at it.

Cashier: “This guy, huh?”

He turns it to look at the price.

Cashier: “Three dollars?! I’m not going to let you pay that much!”

He took the price down to a dollar.

There is a convenience store that I pass every day during my commute. I’ve never gone inside it before, but I develop a hankering for a soda on the way home one day, so I decide to give it a shot. There is nobody inside except for one cashier, whom I presume to be the owner.

I go over and pick out my soda. While the shelf advertises them at two for $3, I only want one. I don’t mind paying the regular price, but it is nowhere to be seen. I take my soda up to the counter to pay.

Cashier: “You have to buy two of these sodas if you want the deal.”

Me: “I know. I only want the one, though.”

Cashier: “You can’t buy only one. You have to buy two.”

Me: “I understand. I don’t mind paying the normal price; I just want to know what the normal price is.”

Cashier: “You have to buy two! You can’t buy one!”

Me: “I understand! I just—”

Cashier: “No, you do not understand! Get out of my store or I’ll call the cops!”

I gave up at this point and left empty-handed. I got my soda fix at a fast-food place just up the street. If anything, at least I now have a partial explanation for why that convenience store’s parking lot is almost always empty whenever I pass it on my commute.

(A store I frequent is having a “stock-up sale”; canned and packaged goods are all on a cheap price, but “Must buy five” or “Must buy ten,” etc. I’ve gotten quite a few things and I get up to the register when the clerk starts scanning. I notice she’s doing something… wrong.)

Me: “Um, you scanned too many of those.”

Cashier: “No, I swiped it five times.”

Me: “Yeah, you swiped it forward five times, but it caught it on the backswing another three times.”

Cashier: “No, I only swiped it five times!”

Me: “It shows eight listed; I only have five!”

Cashier: “Whatever.” *grabs the next product and does the same thing*

Me: “Aaaand now that one shows seven. You scanned two extra!”

Cashier: *already getting to the cans of soup* “Dude, don’t try to scam me out of free stuff.”

Me: “Wait! Those are all different; you can’t just—”

(The cashier finishes up, and yes, she over-scanned the soup, as well as two other batches of items.)

Cashier: “Your total is [about $20 more than it should be]; cash or credit?”

Me: *pause* “Yeah, I’d like to talk to a manager?”

Cashier: “You’re not getting free things.”

Me: “I’m not paying for more than I bought, either!”

Cashier: “Look, dude, you’re the fifth person to try this scam on me today. I didn’t fall for them; I’m not falling for you.”

Me: *pauses to think* “Ah, I see. Okay, then, credit.”

(I pay the overblown amount, separate out the bags that have the excess or incorrect products, and go straight to the customer service desk.)

Me: “Hi, I was just over on register five and—”

Customer Service: “RRRRRGH! Let me guess. She over-scanned your order?”

Me: “And also scanned twelve of one can, instead of two each of five, completely screwing up your inventory!”

(The customer service lady apologized, and she had to void almost half my receipt and rescan all the soups. I apologized that she had to go through it, but from her reactions it sounds like I wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. On a related note, it’s been a couple of months and I haven’t seen that cashier again.)

(I work a second job delivering pizza after my day job. One night, my wife texts me and asks me to bring home some items from the grocery. Since it’s almost midnight, I go to the supermarket just down the street from my pizza store before they close. After getting the items, I go to the one lane that’s open, which is attended by a cute woman in her twenties. She addresses me in an overly friendly manner, like we’re old acquaintances.)

Cute Cashier: “Hi, [My Name]! How’re you this evening?!”

Me: *slightly taken aback* “Um… I’m good.”

Cute Cashier: “I haven’t seen you for a while, [My Name].”

Me: *still wondering how I know this woman* “Well, I usually shop at the [Store] near my home in Maryland.”

Cute Cashier: “Oh, you’ve got quite a drive home, [My Name].”

Me: “Yeah, I wouldn’t make it to that store before they closed.”

Cute Cashier: *finishes checking me out* “That’ll be $10.24, [My Name].”

(I hand her cash and take the receipt.)

Cute Cashier: “Bye, [My Name]! Drive safe!”

(I walked away, still confused as to how I knew this woman. I looked down at my items, and then I noticed: I was still wearing my delivery uniform which had my first name embroidered on it. I turned around and pointed at my name; [Cute Cashier] nodded to confirm she was just messing with my mind.)