Certainly Has Some Issues

, , , , | Right | April 16, 2018

(I work in a used bookstore that sells books and media. We often have large coffee table books for a dollar or two. A lady comes up to my register with an armload of large books and I ring her out.)

Me: “Would you like a bag or two for these?”

Customer: “IT’S YOUR ISSUE!”

Me: “Y…yes? Would a box be better? I can make a box!”

Customer: “IT’S YOUR ISSUE! IT’S YOUR ISSUE!”

(She waves off a box and quickly becomes exasperated, as if we are forcing her to buy this giant pile of giant books. I put them in a couple of bags. She’s still not happy.)

Customer: “HOW DO I CARRY?! IT’S YOUR ISSUE!”

Me: “I can help you to your car. Where are you going?”

Customer: “HOW FAR?!”

(I then realized that she was walking, and imagined carrying her books around town. I repeatedly asked where she lived but only got, “IT’S YOUR ISSUE,” in return. She came back a few more times and yelled, “IT’S YOUR ISSUE,” at different booksellers, to the point it became a catchphrase at the store. Was she on a personal crusade against bags? Or books? We still see her occasionally, but she has stopped buying large amounts of large books.)

He Likes Them Green

, , , , , | Romantic | August 29, 2017

(I am a high school sophomore who is required to log service hours, and I decide to log some at a community center’s fundraiser. I’m a biracial [black and white] female, and though I have hazel eyes that often look green, with my hair pulled up I appear decidedly African American. A middle-aged male customer walks up to my station with a few relatively inexpensive items and puts everything onto the table.)

Customer: “Hello.”

Me: *sits up straight* “Good evening, sir. Will this be all for you tonight?”

Customer: *nods* “You’re a pretty girl, honey.” *sounds somewhat creepy*

Me: *thinking that this is one of those polite compliments that adults give children* “Um, thank you.”

(I begin to enter the amounts of his items onto the iPad that is being used for transactions.)

Customer: *almost to himself* “I didn’t know they came with green eyes.”

Me: *thinking that he’s talking to himself* “Okay, sir, that comes to—”

Customer: *interrupts* “Are your eyes real, honey?”

Me: *confused* “Um, yeah, of course they are. Your total is twelve—”

Customer: *interrupts again, in a creepily soft tone* “Honey, I like green-eyed girls.”

Me: *beginning to be weirded out* “Uh, your total is twelve-fifty. Card, check, or cash?”

Customer: *suddenly gets uncomfortably close to me* “I have cash. Lots of cash. You like cash, honey? I can make you a lot of it.”

Me: *now incredibly paranoid* “Um, sir, I-I’m fifteen…”

Customer: *suddenly steps back, looks at me like I’m crazy, pulls a twenty out of his pocket, slams it onto the table, grabs his items, and hurries out*

(I was immediately switched to another position when I informed the volunteer leader. It turned out they were trying to get that guy the heck out of the fundraiser for creeping out other volunteers.)