One day, I am shopping. I get a bunch of ingredients for soup and eggs benny, get to the checkout, and… realize that I forgot my freaking debit card. Stupid online shopping, getting me to take it out of my wallet.

I am very apologetic, and I ask if they can hold my groceries, what time they close, and what time it currently is. I have about thirty-five minutes before they close, and it takes me fifteen minutes just to get home, so I need to hurry.

I. Haul. A**. And I actually do manage to get back to the store just a few minutes before they close, and I get in line to patiently wait for my turn.

After a few minutes, I get to the front, smile, and tell them:

Me: “I just had to run home to get my card. My groceries should be just behind the counter.”

Cashier: “Oh, we only keep them for fifteen minutes, so we’ve already put them back.”

Me: *Pauses* “Excuse me? I just ran all the way home and back because you said you would hold them for me.”

The cashier starts to get pissy.

Cashier: “Well, we can’t just hold onto food forever.”

Me: “And I get that, but you don’t think that would’ve been good to know before I ran all the way home and back?!”

Cashier: “Well, it’s not my fault!”

I wave toward the store.

Me: “So, can I go get my groceries?!”

Cashier: *Sarcastically* “Oh, sure, I’ll just stay half an hour past closing.”

I said nothing and went to grab a basket since all I could think to say were variations of “not my f****** problem”. I quickly retraced my steps and got most of my groceries; I wouldn’t be able to make soup without another trip, but I would be able to make eggs benny as planned.

I got back to the cashier, and she did have the good grace to thank me for being quick. She also agreed with me that the original cashier should have told me the fifteen-minute time limit before sending me on a thirty-minute round trip. Because she had made such a big deal about how late I was going to keep her, as soon as I exited the doors, I checked the time: 21:02. I had kept her past close by a whopping two minutes.

I am at the cash register in a small local chain supermarket. As I approach the front of the line, I notice a box of candy bars with a sign saying, “Two for £1,” on display behind the cashier. Since I like that brand, I figure, “Why not?” It is then my turn. I point to the box.

Me: “And can I have two of those, please?”

The cashier picks them up and holds them in the air.

Cashier: “These aren’t scanning at that price.”

Me: “Okay. Can a supervisor override it, then?”

Cashier: “No. That price is wrong. They’re actually a pound each.”

Me: “Well, perhaps you should take the sign down, then, if it’s wrong? It’s kind of false advertising.”

She stares at the sign.

Cashier: “I don’t do the signs.”

There is a long awkward pause.

Cashier: “Do you still want them?”

I’ve gone into a popular Canadian fast food chain to get some food on my way home from work.

Me: “Hi. Can I please get a grilled chicken sandwich with cheese and bacon, with a [side] and [drink]?”

Cashier: “No problem, that’ll be [price that’s almost $10 more than what it should be].”

I look at the order screen and see she’s rung in the chicken sandwich combo without cheese or bacon, and a separate bacon cheeseburger.

Me: “Sorry, no, just the chicken sandwich combo, with cheese and bacon on it.”

Cashier: “Right, a grilled chicken combo and then a bacon cheeseburger.”

Me: “No. Just the grilled chicken. I want the cheese and bacon on the grilled chicken. Just the one sandwich with [side] and [drink].”

Cashier: “Yes, that’s what I have here. The grilled chicken sandwich combo and a bacon cheeseburger.”

Me: “That is not what I’m asking for. I just want one grilled chicken sandwich, and I want the grilled chicken sandwich to have cheese and bacon on it.”

Cashier: “So, two grilled chicken sandwiches and a bacon cheeseburger.”

Me: “No. There is only one chicken sandwich. That’s the only sandwich I want, and I want it with cheese and bacon on it.”

Cashier: “So, you want the bacon cheeseburger as a combo, too?”

I’m seconds away from just walking out.

Me: “There is no bacon cheeseburger. At all. I do not want a bacon cheeseburger. I just want my grilled chicken sandwich to be made with cheese and bacon on it.”

Thankfully, another employee can sense my agitation and comes over. I repeat my order one more time in front of the second employee. They can definitely tell I’m annoyed, but I’m still maintaining a polite, if firm, tone.

Employee #2: “[Cashier], they want cheese and bacon on the grilled chicken sandwich. Not a bacon cheeseburger.”

Cashier: “That’s what I put in!”

Employee #2: “Just let me do it.”

They shoo the cashier away and start ringing everything in properly.

Employee #2: “Sorry about that. I have no idea why that happened.”

Me: *Starting to relax* “It’s okay, I don’t mind clarifying my order, but I really don’t know how else I could have said it.”

Employee #2: “I understand. Thank you for letting me help make it right.”

I don’t necessarily hold it against the first cashier, but if someone is saying they didn’t order something, why keep insisting you’re correct?

I used to coupon. A lot. For this particular transaction, it is only digital coupons, no paper ones. I collect all my items, get to the checkout, and enter my phone number. The cashier hits total, and about $12 worth of stuff is roughly $.50.

I pay with my card, and as the cashier hands me my receipt, she notices how cheap it is. For background, this woman hates me, hates couponers, and is just an all-around pain. Every. Time. Cue this wonderful exchange.

Cashier: “Well, that’s obviously wrong; it’s too cheap. I’m going to have to return all of your stuff.”

Me: “You aren’t. I have already paid. It was digital coupons, and I have done nothing wrong.”

Cashier: “You have to give me the receipt, then, and I’m going to write down every UPC and every coupon. This is like stealing.”

I’m a bit annoyed, and I just don’t want her to follow me outside, so I comply. I give her the receipt and stand there for about ten minutes while the cashier writes, muttering nasty stuff half under her breath.

A manager finally comes up.

Manager: “[Cashier], what are you doing?”

The cashier explains the situation.

Manager: “[Cashier], you do stuff like this to her every time she comes in. They are digital coupons. That’s what they do. She is fine. Give her the receipt and leave her alone.”

The cashier argued for a second before inevitably giving me my receipt, and I promptly left. I was pretty mad about the cashier’s behavior, but hey, at least the manager was cool.

Related:
The Couponator 35: Dog Food Day Afternoon
The Couponator 34: Blast From The Past
The Couponator 33: The Double Cross
The Couponator 32: Attack Of The Rulebreaker
The Couponator 31: Saved By The Next Generation

This story is for nocturnal workers — people who work night shifts like me. I work a “nine-to-five” job, but it is 9:00 pm to 5:00 am. I get home from work when most people are just waking up.

Some people just don’t understand the difference between nocturnal and diurnal work shifts and work hours versus sleep hours.

Example #1: “Um, when you call me at twelve noon, that is the same as me calling you at twelve midnight.”

Example #2: “No, my sleep pattern does not magically change on my two days off.”

Example #3: “Hey! I am trying to sleep here!” (A “Midnight Cowboy” movie reference.)

Example #4 happened to me last week. I was driving home from work and stopped off at a twenty-four-hour supermarket. Where I live, you cannot legally sell alcohol between the hours of 2:00 and 6:00 am.  

The time was 6:10 am. The supermarket was empty of customers. There was only one cashier. I picked up a few items, including a six-pack of beer. The cashier balked when they saw the beer.

Cashier: “I can’t sell you the beer.”

Me: “Why not?”

Cashier: “We can’t sell alcohol between the hours of 2:00 and 6:00 am.”

Me: “Yes, I know that, but it is after 6:00 am.”

I pointed to the large wall clock showing the time: 6:10 am.

The cashier still couldn’t seem to understand why someone would be buying alcohol at that time of the morning. I waited a few minutes while the cashier walked away to check with the manager. The manager walked over with the cashier. He told the cashier to ring up the beer because it was… after 6:00 am.

The manager was just finishing up his own late-night shift, and the cashier still didn’t understand why someone might want to have a beer after work at 6:00 in the morning.