About ten years ago, I worked at the service counter of a local grocery store. One of the cashiers was a young woman who was a senior at a local Catholic high school, so she would have been about seventeen or eighteen. She was an honors student there, so I figured she was kind of smart, too.

One evening, about a week before Christmas, she came stomping up to the service counter.

Cashier: “You’re old. Explain it to me.”

Okay, not the best way to start a conversation. Maybe she’s not as smart as I thought. For the record, I was forty-five at this time.

Me: “Sorry, explain what?”

She waved her hand around.

Cashier: “All this. The shopping, the cooking, and all the decorating. Why are all these people doing all this?”

Me: “Probably for the same reason your family does. Most people just want their families to have a nice Christmas.”

Cashier: “But they can’t all be Catholic.”

Me: “I’m sure they aren’t. What does that have to do with anything?”

Cashier: “Well, Christmas is a Catholic holiday.”

I was surprised to hear this at my advanced age.

Me: “Uh, Christmas is a Christian holiday, not just a Catholic one. Christians of all stripes celebrate it — not always like you or me, but it’s a holiday for all Christians.”

Cashier: “Are you sure? That doesn’t seem right. I’ll have to ask at school tomorrow.”

She walked away, still mumbling about how that didn’t seem right. Considering that she was an honors student at her school and hadn’t realized Christmas is not just a Catholic holiday, I wasn’t convinced about the answer she would get.

But I’m old, so what do I know?

My wife is pregnant and pretty far along. She’s matching the stereotype and getting all kinds of cravings at all kinds of times. One night at around 11:00 pm, she gets a craving for cheese sticks, salami, peanut butter, and a very specific chocolate and peanut butter candy.

I head to the store to pick up the items. I know from experience that when she asks for that candy, it’s going to be a rough night for my wife, and we won’t be going to bed any time soon since I want to stay up and help however I can. Knowing we will be up, I decide to pick up a bottle of a certain beer I like that happens to be a chocolate stout.

I go to the checkout, and the cashier tries to make small talk.

Cashier: “How are you this evening? Getting some midnight snacks?”

Me: *Chuckles* “Something like that. I got sent on an urgent run.”

Cashier: “Quite the mix you have here. This all going in one dish?”

Me: “No clue; this is just the list I got from my wife. Pregnancy cravings can be pretty random, I suppose.”

The cashier freezes in place mid-scan and gives me a glare like she is trying to make me spontaneously combust.

Cashier: “THIS IS BEER! HOW COULD YOU BE BUYING BEER?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT ALCOHOL CAN DO TO A CHILD?!”

The rant continues for quite some time without me being able to get so much as a word in. Eventually, I’m able to flag down another employee who looks like they might be a manager of some kind. He asks me what is going on, and I explain that I am just trying to buy groceries and the cashier is going off on a rant.

Manager: “[Cashier], why don’t you let me take over this transaction?”

Cashier: “BUT HE IS BUYING ALCOHOL FOR A PREGNANT WOMAN! HE IS TRYING TO POISON A CHILD!”

Manager: “Did you ever consider that maybe the beer was for him?”

After that, the cashier got a look of confusion on her face as if someone had just given a lecture on calculus to an eight-year-old.

Thankfully, I was able to pay and head home. I saw the cashier still working at that store later on but never anywhere near the registers.

I was recently shopping at one of the big box office supply store branches in town. One of the items I was looking for was a small headset with a microphone for use with my tablet or phone for calls, etc.

I found a suitable one on sale for $30, so I took it to the checkout with my other purchase.

Cashier: “Hi, how are you today? Find everything you need?”

Me: “Yes, fine, thank you.”

Cashier: *Picking up the headphones* “I have to inform you that these headphones are non-returnable once the package is open.”

Me: “Ooookay… I guess that makes sense if people have already worn them and decide to return them. But they are returnable if they are defective, correct?”

Cashier: “No, unless you purchase a protection plan for $7.95.”

Me: “What?”

Cashier: “They are non-returnable — period — unless you purchase the plan. Then you can return them for exchange or refund if there is a problem.”

Me: “So, if I open the box and they are defective, the store won’t do anything unless I buy the plan which is almost a third of the cost of the item to begin with?”

Cashier: “Correct. It’s policy, and we’ve been instructed to clearly inform every purchaser to avoid confusion.”

Me: “Look, I understand having a policy that bars people from returning used headphones simply because they change their minds, but a defective product is returnable, and the only way to tell is to open the box!”

Cashier: “No, sorry.”

I slid the headphones back to the cashier.

Me: “Then I’m not purchasing these here. If you are collecting feedback, then please inform management that this retailer needs to change policy.”

I paid for and took my other purchase. The receipt clearly stated, “Any opened headphones, earphones, and earbuds cannot be returned at any time.” I understand the rationale of the policy, but unless you have an exception for defective merchandise, forget it.

The kicker to the story? My other purchase was a new budget-priced unlocked phone to replace my wife’s seven-year-old one. It had a return policy of thirty days unopened or fourteen days open box as long as all original contents are in the box. The sales guy assured me we could set the phone up completely and try it out, and if my wife didn’t like it, we could return it for a full refund within the fourteen-day window. And the phone cost six times the price of the headset I wanted.

I’m buying a gift card. The cashier has admitted that she is new and doesn’t know what to do, so she calls someone over. The supervisor who comes is completely dismissive. She tells the cashier that she can just do it herself, gives her a set of instructions, and walks off.

I work with the cashier and she seems almost there, but then, she panics saying the register is frozen. She calls the supervisor back. At first, she’s confused, and then she’s angry.

A manager then comes to take a look.

Manager: “I’m not sure what you’ve done.”

Supervisor: “What did you do? I told you to wait!”

I see that the cashier is close to tears.

Me: *To the manager* “Okay, that’s not what she said. I can even tell you what she told her to do.”

At this, the supervisor starts glaring at me with deer-in-the-headlight eyes. I recount the instructions, and the manager sighs and leans under the counter. He produces a mouse and starts clicking.

Manager: *To the supervisor* “You showed her how to bypass the manager’s menu, but that only works if you’re set up as a supervisor.” *Handing me the gift card* “Here. For free, as thanks. I’ve been wondering how so many gift cards were being sold. That trick was supposed to have been removed years ago.” *To the supervisor* “We’re going to the office.”

I haven’t seen the supervisor there since. I see the cashier at the checkout from time to time. She seems a lot more confident.

My wife and I went to an outlet mall in one of our state university towns. We went into a national brand shoe store to look for a pair of casual shoes for me. I found a pair and bought them. The clerk took my cash, gave me the change, bagged the shoes, and left to chat with a coworker, as there was no one else in the store at the time.

Shortly, I returned to the register with a problem with my change. After trying to ignore me, the clerk finally, with eyes rolling, came to find out what I wanted.

Clerk: “Is there something else I can help you with?”

Me: “You gave me the wrong change.”

Clerk: “No, sir. I know I gave you the correct change.”

Me: “No, ma’am, you didn’t.”

This went back and forth a couple more times until I got more forceful.

Me: “No. Let me show you. I still have the change in my hand. The ticket says the shoes cost $60 and coins. I gave you a hundred and the coins and you gave me 3 twenties back.”

Clerk: *Wide-eyed* “Oh, I gave you twenty dollars too much.”

Me: “Yes. You came back to me with a defensive posture before you knew what my problem was. Change your attitude until you find out what is going on with the customer. I know the drawer being short would come out of your pay.”

Clerk: “Yes, that’s right. I’m sorry, but thank you for being honest.”