I was buying an extremely small coffee for a friend before school, using a gift card she hadn’t given me the day before. I made small talk with the cashier about how I was buying for my friend, as I ended up having to check my phone for what she had wanted me to get. She thought there were a couple of dollars, enough for the drink she wanted, but there wasn’t nearly enough. 

I have trouble talking to people I don’t know, and I started stuttering as I apologized and asked the cashier to cancel the order, but he just smiled at me and muttered, “Oh, you’re military? And you work here, interesting!” as he applied the discounts, making enough for me to pay. 

It wasn’t a lot, but it has stuck with me as one of the nicest things a person has done for me, and it made both me and my friends day.

(I’m the customer in this story. I’ve just entered the checkout line with my groceries and I notice a young man entering the queue behind me who is about to step into a puddle of brightly-colored liquid. He doesn’t seem to notice the “Caution” sign nearby. I reach over to stop him.)

Me: “Oh, hey, watch out there.”

Man: “What? Oh, jeez. Thanks for that.”

Me: “Yeah, of course.”

Man: *laughing a little* “I didn’t even see that. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Me: “Ah, it happens to the best of us.”

(I turn from my interaction with the man back to my groceries as I notice that the cashier is starting to ring me up. I helpfully put down a divider behind my groceries, as well. I exchange pleasantries with the cashier and begin pulling out my ID for the bottle of wine I’m purchasing. I’m in my 20s with extreme babyface, and I fully expect to be ID’d every time I purchase. The cashier takes my ID, scans it, and looks around me and gets the attention of the man behind me who is now on his phone.)

Cashier: “Excuse me, sir! I need your ID, too.”

Man: “Uh, what?”

Me: “Er, he’s not with me. These are all my groceries.”

Cashier: “Yes, but you obviously know him. I need his ID.”

Me: “I’ve never met this man before five minutes ago. I just warned him not to slip.”

Cashier: *very smugly and self-assuredly* “Yeah, no. You’re together and you’re buying this alcohol for him.”

(I can’t help but wonder how many people are buying entire carts of groceries only to disguise single bottles of wine for underage kids. The guy behind me doesn’t look old, but he does look older than my babyface, for sure.)

Man: “I have no idea who this lady is. And I’m not giving you my ID.”

Cashier: “I saw you guys enter the line at the same time. I can’t sell this to you until he gives me his ID.”

Me: “I’m… not sure what you want me to do here. I have literally never met this man in my life. I don’t even know his name.”

Cashier: “Yeah, are you sure about that? I’m going to need his ID, too, okay?”

Man: “I am not handing over my ID. I. Do. Not. Know. This. Person.”

(The man turns bodily away from both the cashier and me and seems to be gathering his own groceries from the belt to move lanes. The cashier suddenly loses their smug attitude and conviction.)

Cashier: *sounding sad or disappointed* “Oh… Are you guys really not together?”

Me: “I have literally never met him before today. I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to even speak with other customers in line. Am I able to buy this or not?”

Cashier: “Yeah…” *a sad sigh* “I guess, if you guys don’t know each other.”

(The cashier finally let me finish my transaction, but I caught her watching me like a hawk to see if the man exited another line to come speak with me. I never saw the man again and I am now paranoid of who enters line behind me every time I come into that store again.)

(A local shop has a rewards program so I sign up for it, and I am assigned the number 633331. One day, my wife and I go shopping and we’re at the register.)

Cashier: “Number, please.”

Me: “6, quadruple 3, 1.”

Cashier: “Uh?”

Me: “6, quadruple 3, 1.”

Cashier: “Uh?”

Me: “Okay, 6, four threes, 1.”

Cashier: “6431.”

Me: “No, 6,3,3,3,3,1.”

Cashier: “631 and?” 

Me: “6, double 3, double 3, 1.”

Cashier: “6, double 3, 1 and?”

Me: *getting annoyed* “6 double 3, double 3, 1.”

Cashier: “I already have 6, double 3, 1! Next?”

Me: “Please write what I tell you, EXACTLY!”

Wife: “[My Name], calm down.”

Me: “But she’s not writing what I tell her.”

Cashier: “Yes, I am!”

Me: “NO, you’re not! Write what I tell you to write, NOT what you think I want you to write! Now, start again. 6.”

Cashier: “6.”

Me: “Double 3.”

Cashier: “Double 3.”

Me: “Double 3.”

Cashier: “I’ve done that.”

Me: “Double 3!”

Cashier: “I’ve done that!”

Me: “DO IT AGAIN!”

Cashier: “Double 3.”

Me: “1.”

Cashier: “1… Oh!”

(My boyfriend has traveled to America to visit me. While checking out at a shop, he and the cashier are making conversation about that.)

Cashier: “So, what brings you to America?”

Boyfriend: “Him.” *points at me*

Cashier: “That’s nice. Are you planning on doing anything special here?”

Boyfriend: “Not really. I’m just going to relax and spend some time with my sweetie.”

Cashier: “Ooh, did you meet a cute girl here?”

Boyfriend: “No, him.” *points at me again*

Cashier: “…”

Cashier: “OHHHH.”

(We all laughed about it.)

(I am in line at a store, trying to purchase breakfast and a drink for my lunch. The cashier is obviously new at her job, and subsequently is still learning which buttons to press, etc. I am trying to purchase a coffee, a doughnut, and a sports drink.)

Cashier: “Ugh. This drink won’t scan. Honey, can you run back to the display and grab another drink with a clearer bar code?”

Me: “No. I think you’re just putting the scanner too close to the code. Move the bottle back an inch or two and try again.”

Cashier: “No, that’s not it. Get a new bottle.”

Manager: “What’s going on?”

Cashier: “This bottle won’t scan, so I’m waiting on her to go get a new one.”

Manager: “Try again. I think you’re holding the bottle too close to the scanner again.”

Cashier: “Okay… your total is $13.50.”

Me: “No. You punched in a dozen doughnuts, but I only have one. My total should be more like $5.00.”

Cashier: *now angry* “I hit the doughnut button and that’s what came up. That’s what it costs to buy a doughnut!”

Manager: “What’s up?”

Cashier: “She’s mad about being held up in line, so she’s arguing with me about doughnuts.”

Me: “I was charged for a dozen doughnuts when I only have one. I was simply pointing that out.”

Manager: “Did you even look for the ‘individual doughnut’ button?”

Cashier: “No. I just hit the picture of doughnuts.”

Manager: “This explains so much. Here…”

(The manager ended up stepping in and finishing the transaction. As I walked away from the checkout, I saw the people in line behind me start heading for other checkouts rather than have to deal with the new cashier.)