When I am a young and penniless student, I attend summer language courses in Oxford, and on the weekends, we are driven to London and let loose in the city. I use these trips to take advantage of the huge discounts at the so-called “mad barking sale”, spending my yearly tape budget there.

It’s our last London weekend, our plane leaves tomorrow, and I’m at the desk with my new purchases, a return, and a defective case. As a theft prevention measure, the store only has empty cases on the shelves and cashiers fill them with the cassettes at the desk.

Me: “Hello. I’m buying these tapes…” *puts the empty cases on desk* “…and I’d like to return this one, as I bought two by mistake…” *puts a full case on desk* “…and I’d also like to have this case exchanged, as it has a hairline crack, if possible.

I put an empty case on the desk, as the cassette is in my Walkman, being played.

Cashier: “Sure, we can do that.”

We exchange some small talk as the cashier quickly goes through the operations of filling and changing cases and presents me with my purchases already in a bag and the total. I pay and thank her.

Me: “Hope to see you again next year!”

Cashier: “You, too. Have a safe journey!”

Once at home, I got a look at the bill and realised that the cashier had both deducted the price of the returned tape AND put it in the bag with the rest of my purchases, changed the cracked case and put a new cassette in it, and discounted a few items that weren’t on sale at that. Now I surely hoped to see that cashier again

The extra cassettes made two of my friends very happy, but when I went back to the music store the following year, the cashier did not work there anymore. Bummer.

When I first worked as a cashier, I had a one-day training with a test at the end.

My teacher put a huge kitchen machine onto my desk and asked some questions. I thought he wanted to test my knowledge about our guarantee and refund policies, so I answered all his questions. He thanked me, put the machine into his cart, and left… without paying.

He distracted me so much I didn’t notice.

It was a huge laugh! And I’ll never forget not to get distracted by customers!

My favourite clothing shop has a strict refund/exchange policy: fourteen days, with a receipt. No receipt or over fourteen days, no refund, no exchange. They do have an extended Christmas return policy which starts in November, where you can return items up to seventh January but for exchange only.

In mid-November, I bought my mum a shirt for Christmas. About a month later, she showed me the lovely shirt she’d just bought herself. Yes, it was the same one! I went back to the shop to exchange the one I’d bought. The cashier took one look at the receipt and tossed it back at me.

Cashier: *Rudely* “You’re way outside our return date.”

Me: “I can return it up to seventh January—”

Cashier: *Interrupting* “It’s fourteen days. You should have brought it back earlier.”

Me: “You’ve got extended returns for Christmas. It says so on the receipt. I want to exchange it for this.”

I’d picked out another shirt for the same price.

Cashier: “You’re too late.”

Just then, a manager stepped up by the cashier; she had heard a bit of our conversation.

Cashier: “She wants to get a refund but she’s too late.”

Me: “No, I want to do an exchange, and I’ve got until seventh January to do it.”

The manager looked at my receipt

Manager: “Yes, that’s fine. Just scan it in.”

Cashier: “It won’t work; it’s a month old.”

Manager: “The returns are extended because of Christmas. Just scan it.”

Cashier: “But it won’t work; it’s outside fourteen days.”

The manager sighed, stepped around the cashier, and ran the exchange for me. As I was packing up my bag and leaving, I heard the manager say:

Manager: “Right, let’s go over this one more time. And this time, please listen.”

I was looking after a friend’s child and had three of my kids with me, so I had a double pram, one child on a scooter board on the back of the pram, and the tiny baby in a sling. I needed to go to this kitchenware store as something essential for cooking dinner had broken and needed replacing.

It was one of those stores where the entire stock and then some is out on the floor. There are huge, teetering piles of saucepans and boxes of drinking glasses all over the place and the cashier is right at the back. It’s dangerous for someone in my position, but the kids were being awesome and I was feeling positive.

I told all the kids to keep their hands in the pram and explained that we’d do this quick shop and then head to the playground. I then carefully navigated my way through the maze to the desk.

I spoke to the cashier, found what I wanted, and was about to pay when one of the kids picked up something small from the huge pile of tempting, colourful trinkets at the counter.

Me: “Oops, [Kid], put that back down, please.”

She put it down, immediately, without my having to intervene.

The cashier snapped loudly, right at the two-year-old:

Cashier: “You don’t touch things in here or you’re going to be in big trouble! I’ll be very, very mad if you touch!”

Me: “Um… I’ll do the parenting, thank you. I think we’re done here.”

I started to reverse my load back through the maze, putting my wallet back in my bag and leaving my item on the bench.

Cashier: “What? It’s my shop! How about showing me some respect?!”

Me: “Ah, how about showing your customers some respect? We won’t be shopping here again.”

She kept shouting after me until we were out of sight. Passersby were staring.

Luckily, the supermarket next door had what I needed. That shop has had about five “closing downs” and “reopened with new management” in the last few years. I still can’t bring myself to go back.

I go shop at a grocery store. At checkout, the total is $31.69. I pull a $100 bill out and ask the cashier if this is okay. He says yes and takes the bill. The receipt prints. He counts out sixty-eight dollars and then turns to me.

Cashier: “I don’t have the 31¢ in my drawer for your change. I’ve paged a manager; when she gets here, I can give you your change.”

I get 69¢ from my pocket and hand it to the cashier.

Me: “No problem. Here’s 69¢; now you owe me a dollar, which you can give me for change.”

The cashier looks at the 69¢, takes 31¢ from the 69¢ — which I just gave him! — and tries to hand it to me!

Cashier: “Here is your 31¢ change, sir.”

Me: “No, I gave you 69¢. You now owe me one more dollar, not the 31¢.”

Cashier: “Sir, I owe you 31¢.”

Me: “Nooo, you said you could not pay me the 31¢, so I gave you 69¢, so now you owe me no coinage but you owe me an additional one dollar.”

The cashier points at the change due on the receipt: $68.31.

Cashier: “See, I owe you 31¢. Do you understand now, sir?”

Me: “Noooooo, you could not pay me the 31¢, so I gave you 69¢ to round it up to a dollar that you now owe me.”

The cashier points again at the change due on the receipt: $68.31.

Cashier: “The receipt says I owe you 31¢. Do you understand now, sir?”

Just then, the manager, who was paged due to the empty change drawer, comes over.

Manager: “I’ll bring change for your drawer in a minute. What is the problem here?”

I explain it to her. She looks at the receipt and counts the bills in the cashier’s hand.

Manager: “Did he give you an additional 69¢?”

Cashier: “Yes.”

Manager: “Then you don’t owe him the 31¢ change, but you do owe him an additional dollar.”

He still looks uncertain but gives me a total of sixty-nine dollars in change.

Me: *To the manager* “Thanks for your help. Sorry I confused your employee.”

Manager: “Have a good night, sir.”

Shouldn’t an employee who is handling money all day long be able to do second-grade math?!