I go to a craft store to buy some stamps and look for new cutting dies. Cutting dies are little metallic shapes you press through a roller, and they cut out the shape in the paper underneath.

It’s common for the stamps and dies to be sold separately, but sometimes they are sold as a set. I find a set: stamp and die, banded together with a rubber band. There is one price sticker on them, and there are several of these bundles, so I assume they are a set, sold together. 

At the register:

Clerk: “I can’t find the promo that belongs to this set.”

Me: “I didn’t see a promo, either, but there were more sets like this, so I assumed it was a set?”

I point at the spot, like four meters away from the register. 

Clerk: “Sure, but I need to put it in the register to get the price.”

Me: “Well, the sticker says it’s [amount].”

Clerk: *Getting agitated* “Yes, but that won’t tell me the price of the promo.”

Me: “Oh, there was no other price tag or sign, and all the other sets are priced the same.”

Clerk: “But I still can’t scan them.”

Me: “And if you scan both barcodes? Maybe it will show up then?”

Clerk: *Annoyed* “That won’t do anything because I don’t know the promo that belongs with it!”

Me: “Okay… Is there someone else you could ask?”

Clerk: “Yes, but I would need to call them.”

Me: “Oh, sure, go ahead. I’m patient. I’ll wait.”

She calls her coworker right in front of me, but I can’t really hear what’s being said through the phone. Eventually, I just see her typing the price of the sticker in manually. 

Me: “Ah, thank you. Well, at least you now know what to do if someone gets one of those other sets, right?”

Her death glare told me she did not appreciate that comment, so I just paid, thanked her, and left. I still wonder if I was in the wrong for asking for the price on the sticker.

I had a pick-up order at my local home improvement chain. The employees here wear orange aprons. I was wearing jeans and a black cami tank top, and I had a black leather backpack I sometimes use as a purse. I finally got called to one of the cashiers, who was obviously still in training; she was trying hard but needed to call the manager a few times. In addition, there was a bit of a delay in retrieving my order.

I made some idle chat with the cashier as I waited for my order to be completed. An older gentleman came up from behind me without being called from the line. He interrupted us quite rudely.

Man: *To the cashier* “Are you on break?”

She glanced confusedly over at me.

Cashier: *Timidly* “No.”

Man: *To me “Are you on break?”

Realizing he thought he was busting a couple of employees slacking, I was very happy to tell him:

Me: “No. I don’t work here; I’m a customer just like you.”

He shot me another dirty look and returned to the line without saying another word.

I have just finished my grocery shopping and am at the checkout. I have my very young toddler with me. The shopping carts have two baby seats rather than the typical one. This store also does not do plastic bags, so they set your items back in the cart and you can later fill your own bags from home.

I am putting my items on the conveyor belt, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice that the cashier is setting the carton of eggs in the other seat right next to my toddler.

Me: “Oh, please don’t set the eggs next to—”

My toddler gleefully grabs the carton of eggs and throws them out of the cart.

Me: “—her.”

I did offer to help clean it up and even to pay for the new carton of eggs. The cashier said it wasn’t necessary but did seem annoyed. I get it, and I think she had just spaced it, but setting eggs next to a one-year-old is asking for disaster.

I was shopping at a dollar store with my mother. She was in line in front of me, and her total was such that she was going to get just a penny as change. 

She handed the money over.

Mother: “Keep the penny.”

Then, it was my turn, and my total was $4.01. The smallest change I had was a nickel, so I handed that over along with a $10 bill. 

Clerk: “Oh, don’t worry about the penny.”

And she handed me back the nickel. I just assumed she was using the penny that my mother had left and thanked her. She counted out my change and handed it to me: a $5 bill and 99 cents!

I was kind of stunned for a moment.

Clerk: “Oh, that’s why you were giving me the nickel: so you wouldn’t have to carry around all that change.”

Me: “Uh, yeah.”

But it was too late. She had already closed her till. 

I just shook my head and walked out with my purchases.

I’m buying a souvenir at a zoo gift shop in Atlanta, Georgia. I’m visiting from the other side of the country, and I’m wearing a coat with my favorite sports team’s logo on it: a college football team. I notice that the cashier has a lanyard from a different college football team — one that has a bitter rivalry with mine. There’s nothing friendly about this rivalry; many people on both sides are convinced the other team is made up of the worst people in college football.

My team happens to have won our last three meetings, which took place in the span of less than twelve months, so I don’t say anything. I don’t want to rub in it; gloating internally is fine. (Because, you know, the fact that I wore my team colors on game days certainly affected the outcome more than what the players did, right?)

As the cashier finishes the transaction:

Cashier: “And we can just skip this survey—” *pushes a button on the card reader* “—and it’s ready for payment.”

Me: *Facetiously, pointing to the logo on my coat* “Do you think I’d give you a bad survey just because of who I cheer for?”

Cashier: *Laughing* “I promise I skip it for everyone!”

Me: “Nah, I wouldn’t do that to you, especially after the last few games. But if this were a while back when you beat us twelve years in a row, I might be tempted…”