I’m shopping with my two daughters (ages nine and fourteen) for my usual weekly grocery items, and I see that my favorite wine is on sale — and a really good sale at that. As it’s something I know I will enjoy, I get ten bottles all at once. (It really is a good deal!)

We get to the checkout, and the cashier starts scanning the wine.

Cashier: “Having a party, are we?”

Me: “No, they’re just a really good deal today.”

Cashier: *Judgey tone* “So, they’re all for you?”

Me: “Well, yes.”

Cashier: “Ten bottles?!”

Me: “Well, I’m not planning on drinking them all at once.”

Cashier: “If you have an alcohol problem, you should seek help. You shouldn’t be buying this much wine in front of your daughters.”

Me: “Excuse me, I would appreciate it if you minded your own business.”

Cashier: “Do you think the fact that you’re getting defensive is a sign of a deeper problem?”

Me: “I’m getting defensive because a complete stranger is calling me an alcoholic because I’m taking advantage of a good deal on my favorite wine. Buying alcohol does not equal alcoholic. Now please just scan my items and be quiet.”

She silently scans my items, but very soon, a manager appears and talks to the cashier.

Manager: “I heard you were having an issue?”

Cashier: “Yes, this woman is trying to buy alcohol, but her clearly underage children are present.”

Me: “Excuse me?!”

Manager: “Has she indicated that she is buying the alcohol for them, or that she’s intending to give it to them?”

Cashier: “Well… no, but look how much she’s buying! She’s clearly got a drinking problem, and she needs help.”

Me: “Oh, I am soooo glad you called your manager over because I would have done the same by now.”

I turn to the manager.

Me: “Is it your policy to hire cashiers who judge customers based on what they buy and deny a sale based on their incorrect assumptions?”

Manager: “No, it definitely isn’t, and I apologize on behalf of [Store] for what has happened.”

The manager authorized a discount on my entire grocery shop that time and said a “discussion” would be had with that cashier. I’m not sure what was said, but the cashier was still there when I came back the next week.

I saw that my favorite bottle of wine was still on sale. I hadn’t found the time to drink a single bottle since I’d bought the ten of them the week before, but just because I could, I got into that cashier’s lane again with another twenty bottles. Her silent surliness as she scanned my wine is going to make it taste extra delicious when I get around to it.

I’m a customer at the checkout, and my cashier has informed me that it’s the end of her shift. Her manager arrives to take over.

Manager: “See you later.”

Cashier: “Not if I see you first.”

The manager smiles and starts scanning the items but then stops suddenly. His face darkens in realization.

Manager: “…I just got that.”

I’m a manager in a store that sells big appliances. Occasionally, we get customers who want to pay with cash, and sometimes they pay in $100 bills. When we take payments like this, we are supposed to use a counterfeit pen. If the bill is fake, the pen mark will turn a dark color; if the bill is real, it will turn yellowish.

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], you need to get to the checkouts. [Cashier] is having a situation!”

It sounds urgent, so I rush down to see the cashier arguing with some customers.

Me: “What’s happening?”

Cashier: “These customers tried to buy [appliance] using cash, but all their $100 bills are fake! Every single one!”

Customer: “No, they’re not! They’re from the ATM! Your pen is defective!”

Me: “Can I see?”

The cashier hands me the cash, which seems remarkably realistic.

Me: “Pass me the pen. I want to try it myself.”

The cashier passes it to me, and I’m about to mark the bill myself.

Me: “[Cashier], this is a permanent marker. I meant pass me the counterfeit pen.”

Cashier: “But that is the… oh… oh, s***.”

Problem solved. I gave the customers a 10% discount for their troubles.

I went into my local bottle shop to buy a couple of bottles of wine, and I was served by a staff member I didn’t recognise. I presume he was new — all good, no worries. Then, I went in a few days later to buy another couple of bottles. The same staff member was there and decided to get chatty.

Staff Member: “So, what do you do for a living?”

Me: “I work in response handling and scanning.”

Staff Member: “Oh! Well, at least you’re not a bum!”

Me: “Ha, I wouldn’t mind a bit more bumming around and a bit less work!”

Staff Member: *Talking over me* “So many people come in here and spend hundreds of dollars on alcohol, every day! They don’t have jobs! They must be doing something on the side to be able to afford this…”

I forget everything he said, but it was a pretty intense tirade about many of the other regular customers, with strong implications that they were criminals and “bums”. Being female-presenting, I’m never sure when it’s safe to tell a man he’s being awful, plus I was totally blindsided, so although I was internally very confused and bothered, I tried to just smile and make some other conversation. I think I said something about the football.

A few days later I decided that what he’d said, while not against me specifically, was not okay and not professional, so I emailed the head office to let them know. It wasn’t long before I had a response apologising for the experience and assuring me that they would speak to this staff member. And I know they did, and I know he knows it was ME who reported him because when I see him now, he’s hilariously awkward and very, very obviously sticking to the absolute basics of a retail interaction! I try not to go there anymore.

In January, I was tasked with picking up some alcohol for an event, so I walked into a local store and grabbed a couple of handles. When I went to check out, I realized I had forgotten my wallet at home, and while I could pay with my phone, that left the issue of having no ID.

Cashier: “Is this it?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

Cashier: “ID?”

Me: “I forgot to bring it.”

Cashier: “…” 

Me: “Yeah, sorry. I mean, I’m… obviously an adult.”

Cashier: “What year were you born?”

Me: “Ninet—”

Cashier: “You’re good.”

Me: “What?”

Cashier: “Kids trying to buy booze never claim to be from nineteen anything; they all say 2000 or 2002. They can’t pull off the nineties; people from the nineties are too old for them to pretend.”

Me: “Oh…”

Cashier: “I guess I should double-check, though…”

Me: “Okay?”

Cashier: “I have an annuity and I need cash now.”

Me: “Call JG Wentworth, 877-Cash-Now.”

Cashier: “Sunsetter?”

Me: “Retractable awning?”

Cashier: “You’re good.”

Me: “What just happened?”

Cashier: “Drive safe!”

Me: “Okay…”

A few months later, I went back to the same store, and there was a young girl in the shop. She looked like she could be in her twenties, but it was hard to tell. I got in line behind her as she put several bottles on the counter.

Cashier: “Is this everything?”

Girl: “Yes.”

Cashier: “ID?”

Girl: “I forgot it.”

Cashier: “What’s your date of birth?”

I felt like I could literally see this girl’s heart beating through her shirt. She was also sweating, and her brain lost traction as this verifying question was asked.

Girl: “Nineteen… uh… eighty-seven!”

The cashier gave the girl a flat look and then looked up at me, but I was covering my lower face with a newspaper to prevent myself from laughing.

Cashier: “You seem a bit young—”

Girl: “I’M ASIAN!”

Cashier: “…”

I turned away from the counter to laugh.

Cashier: “No.”

The cashier took the bottles and stored them behind the counter. 

Girl: “F***. I promise! I’m older than I look!”

Cashier: “What AM radio station belongs to KSSK?”

Girl: “KSSK is on iHeart Radio!”

Me: “AM590.”

The girl turned back to me and then looked at the cashier.

Girl: “What the h*** does that even mean?!”

Cashier: “That means no.”

Girl: “F***!”

She stormed out of the store, and I took her place. 

Me: “What if she had known KSSK was AM590?”

Cashier: “The answer still would have been no, but I would have given her a free candy bar.”

Me: “Fair.”

Cashier: “What about you?”

Me: “ID.” *Holds it up*

Cashier: “Very good.”