(I go into an off-licence close to my house. I am twenty years old. I pick up a bottle of alcohol and go towards the counter.)

Cashier: “ID?”

(I hand my driver’s licence over and she takes one look at it, smirks, and then flings it onto the floor with her fingers.)

Cashier: “You’re too young to buy alcohol. Get out.”

(I look at my driver’s licence incredulously, trying to work out what it was that made her think it was a fake.)

Me: “But I’m twenty. This licence is genuine.”

(The cashier puts her hand on her hip.)

Cashier: “Kid, you’d better get out before I call the cops.”

Me: “I want to see your manager.”

Cashier: “Get out.”

Me: “Please!”

Cashier: “He’ll tell you the same thing.”

(She opens the door and calls for the manager. When he comes down, I tell him my side of the story.)

Manager: “Is this true?”

Cashier: *snickering* “He’s underage, [Manager]! And he didn’t even bother to get a fake ID; he just handed over his driver’s licence!”

Manager: “[Cashier], you’re not in New Jersey anymore; you’re in England. In England, the legal age to drink alcohol is eighteen.”

(The cashier looks taken aback for a moment.)

Cashier: *sneering* “No wonder the city folk are all [alcoholic slurs]!”

(She went upstairs. The manager apologized, saying that his niece was studying in Britain for a year. She was moved to the back after that.)

(My husband and I are customers in this story.)

Cashier: “Crisps or cookie with your sandwich?”

Me: “A white chocolate and macadamia cookie, please.”

Cashier: “Okay, but just to make sure, you are aware that it has nuts right?”

Husband: “Yes? How many people don’t know that the cookie with macadamia nuts in it contains nuts?”

Cashier: “You’d be surprised.”

(I am originally from Connecticut, but I’m attending college in New York State. Since I have no plans to live there after graduation and return home every summer, I have no New York documentation; my drivers’ license and plates are all Connecticut. I’m on a date with a guy who is a NY native, and we stop at a gas station to fill up his bike and buy smokes.)

Me: “A pack of [Brand], please.”

Cashier: “I’ll need to see your ID.”

(Obviously, this is expected, and I am well over the legal age to purchase cigarettes, so I happily hand it over)

Cashier: *handing it back* “No, I need your New York ID.”

Me: “What? I’m not from New York ,though. This is the only ID I have.”

Cashier: “We can’t take out-of-state IDs. It’s the law.”

Me: *by now completely baffled* “Um… I’m pretty sure it’s not. I’ve bought cigarettes in plenty of New York locations before; my ID being out of state doesn’t stop it being valid. Are you seriously telling me that someone, say, on a road-trip through the area, couldn’t buy cigarettes until they returned home?”

Cashier: *snottily* “I’m not getting arrested over this, ma’am. If you can’t show me a valid license, then I can’t sell you cigarettes.”

(By now I’m very annoyed, but my date cuts in.)

Date: “It’s okay, babe. Just go back out to the bike.”

(I resign myself to nicotine cravings and do as he says. When he joins me a minute later, he hands me the very pack I’ve just been attempting to purchase, while pocketing his own, different brand.)

Me: “Seriously?!”

Date: “Yeah. Idiot didn’t even blink when I asked for your brand.”

(So, to sum it up: accepting a perfectly valid license is illegal, but letting someone else buy cigarettes for someone you believe is legally unable to purchase them is okay!)

(I’m at a big box store that sells just about everything. I’m on a tight budget, as I’m not currently working, so I have to be very careful about what I buy. I’ve picked up the items I plan to buy, but can’t help wandering around a bit, looking at all the things for sale. Finally, I get into a checkout lane. As I reach the cashier, we begin to chat.)

Cashier: “How are you today?”

Me: *laughing* “I’m pretty good. I just wish that you guys would stop selling things I want to buy when I have no money.”

Cashier: “Do you want me to page a manager?”

Me: “…”

(I am grocery shopping at my usual place. I bring reusable bags. A couple of them are from the store I am at, and a couple are from a different chain. I am checking out with a cashier I have never seen before. I have put the reusable bags first on the conveyor belt, so she picks them up and says, “You have four bags.” I confirm it, but wonder internally why it matters. Then, as she scans the last of the groceries, the following occurs:)

Cashier: “And you had four reusable bags, so that’s 99 cents each.”

(She picks up the bag they use to scan the bag price into the computer and tries to scan it four times.)

Me: “Wait. Why are you doing this? These bags are old. I brought them with me; I am not buying them. And two of them are not even from [Store].”

Cashier: “We charge 99 cents for reusable bags.”

Me: “Yes, when a customer buys them, but I am not buying them. I already paid for them when I bought them a long time ago. And two of them are not yours.”

Cashier: “I can’t let you have them for free. Reusable bags cost 99 cents.”

Me: “Can I speak to your lead cashier, please?”

Cashier: *rolls her eyes, but calls the lead cashier* “Hey, [Lead Cashier], this lady doesn’t want to pay for the bags.”

Me: “No, I already paid for them when I bought them a while ago. They are mine. I brought them with me.”

Lead Cashier: “[Cashier], I already explained it to you that we do not charge for reusable bags every time the customer uses them. They buy them, and then get to use them as much as they want to. They are their bags now. And as far as I can see, these bags are from [Another Store], so we couldn’t charge for them, anyway. We don’t sell them.” *to me* “Sorry for the confusion. I will clear that for you.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(The lead cashier takes over and finishes the transaction, while the new cashier — at least I assume she is new — stands by and mumbles.)

Cashier: “That makes no sense. The law says we have to charge at least 10 cents per bag. It’s for the environment.”

(I ignored her, and so did the lead cashier at that point, but I never saw that cashier in the store again. I don’t know if she got fired or moved to somewhere where she doesn’t have to deal with customers.)