(I’m working a pumpkin sale at our church. All proceeds go to “mission work,” which is hunger relief in town and in Haiti, providing poor students at local schools with needed supplies, and Habitat for Humanity. We sell about two tractor-trailer loads a season at slightly higher than regular retail and do a lot of good work with the proceeds.)

Customer: “You’ve got such great pumpkins here!”

Me: “Thank you, we’re proud of our patch. What can I help you with?”

Customer: “Well, I like to make brandy out of pumpkins, so I’d like you to give me a discount on a big batch.”

Me: “Let me get this straight: you’re at a charity pumpkin sale at a church, and you’d like a moonshiner’s discount?”

Customer: *leaves in embarrassed silence*

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(I am a volunteer in a charity shop. There is nowhere to store personal belongings, so I put my handbag under the counter and my coat and scarf on the back of the cashier’s chair – this is also behind the counter. I am sitting on the chair. A customer is about to pay for a book, and spots my scarf. There are several scarves for sale in the shop, including in the window display.)

Customer: “Can I see that scarf, please?”

Me: “Which one?”

Customer: “There.” *points to my scarf*

Me: “Oh, sorry, that’s mine. We have lots of others around the shop.”

Customer: “Yours? What do you mean?”

Me: “It’s mine; it belongs to me. It’s not for sale.”

Customer: “Of course it’s for sale. You can’t just keep anything you like the look of. I want to buy it. How much is it?”

Me: “No, sorry, it’s mine. It’s not from the shop. It’s really not for sale.”

Customer: “Yes, it is. How much?”

Me: “It’s MY scarf, I wore it to come to work this morning, it BELONGS to me, and it is NOT for sale. I can’t be much clearer.”

(At this point the customer glares at me and starts to walk AROUND the counter, looking at my scarf and is obviously just going to grab it. The other customers are staring at her in disbelief. I take my scarf from the chair and stuff it under the counter with my handbag, and physically stand in front of the customer so she can’t get round to the cashier’s area.)

Customer: “Hey, I want that! You can’t just hide it and keep it for yourself.”

Me: “Yes, I can, because it’s mine. You are not buying it. I am not going to sell it to you. Now, do you want the book?”

(She stands and glares at me, then throws the book onto the counter and stomps out of the shop, shaking her head and making comments about how rude I am and how she can’t believe how I treated her.)

Next Customer: *after a few moments of stunned silence* “So… how much for your coat, then?”

(I have co-authored a children’s Christmas book. My co-author, our illustrator, and I have a donation/signing at a local literacy program, in which we do a reading of the story and give away free autographed copies to underprivileged kids. Two of my friends come along with me. Throughout the event, the director acts more and more bizarre, trying to strong-arm first my friends and then me into doing the face-painting activity even though we are not there as volunteers for her program.)

Director: “This has just been wonderful! Thank you!” *hugs me awkwardly before flitting away*

(The kids are treated to an ice cream social after the reading, despite it being only 10:00 in the morning. One of my friends has to go to work, and our part in the event is over so we decide to head out. I say goodbye to my colleagues and then force myself to say goodbye to the wacky director.)

Me: “We have to get going, but thank you again for having us here.”

Director: “Oh! You can’t leave until you’ve had some ice cream!”

Me: “Thank you, but I have diabetes.”

Director: “Really? I wish I could get that! Then maybe I wouldn’t eat so many sweets! Haha!”

Me: “…Right.”

(I’m chatting to a coworker before we swap over.)

Coworker: “Are you still at college? I heard you were studying Japanese.”

Me: “Yes. I’m really enjoying it.”

Coworker: “Don’t they have like 12 alphabets?”

Me: “Three.”

Coworker: “Oh… so, have they got more words than us?”

Me: “…”

(I am selling homemade fudge to raise money for my Girl Scout Troop. People tend to ignore us, so I need to act excessively cheerful and polite to even get an acknowledgment. As a result, it’s fairly obvious that at least a little of my cheer is feigned, but I’m still our best seller. An old lady walks past our booth on her way into a grocery store and I launch into my usual spiel.)

Me: “Hi! Would you like to help support our Girl Scout Troop on our trip to Sweden? We’re selling delicious homemade fudge!”

(The elderly lady walks past me saying nothing.)

Me: “Have a nice day!”

(This is a totally typical exchange, until the same lady walks back out of the grocery store.)

Me: “Have a great day!”

Lady: *furiously* “You know, I was just about to donate some money on my way out. But you were so absolutely rude that I won’t give you any money.”

Me: *stunned, trying not to stutter or cry* “I… apologize? I’m really sorry; I didn’t realize I said anything rude.”

Lady: “Of course, you did! I can’t believe how hateful you are. I wouldn’t give you any money now even if you were polite!” *stomps away*

(I’m still not sure how she thought I was insulting her. Maybe I was being so polite it wrapped back around and became rudeness, instead!)

This story is part of our Girl Scouts roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

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