(I work in a clothing store that has one wool sweater for sale. As we’re a tourist stop, we tell people how to wash the sweater when they purchase it. Normally people just nod, thank me, or ask a question like if they should have it dry cleaned. I recognize a girl from earlier in the day when she bought a sweater, but she is back with a friend who is buying one so they can use her discount card.)

Me: “This is 100% wool, so you’re going to want to hand wash it and lay it flat to dry. If you put it in the dryer it’ll become a sweater for a cat.”

Girl: “What’s wool made of?”

Me: *thinking I misheard her* “I’m sorry?”

Girl: “Do you know what wool is made of?”

Me: “It’s sheep’s hair.”

Girl: *looks confused*

Me: “You shear a sheep — basically giving it a haircut — and then that’s spun into yarn and tada! A sweater.”

(The girl looked at me like she was horrified that she’d asked such a stupid question. It was obvious she knew the answer but had just forgotten at the moment when she asked. The rest of the transaction was done in silence.)

(It’s Saturday. My store has hundreds of people coming through. I can’t fold every piece of clothing, especially if there’s a line of customers at every register.)

Me: “How are you today? Did you find everything all right?”

Customer: “…”

(I ring up their items, sort of fold them, and place them in a bag.)

Customer: *scoffs* “That’s the one thing they don’t teach at [Store]: how to fold things.”

(She proceeded to fold each article of clothing while I stood there staring at her, receipt in hand. The next customer had already put their items on the counter.)

(It is close to Christmas, and I’ve asked my husband for pyjamas. He decides to go to a nearby store to see what they have. To his delight, there is a sign outside that says, “SATURDAY AND SUNDAY ONLY: all women’s sleepwear on sale, 50% off.” This is Saturday – perfect! He chooses a set and goes to pay for them. They ring up at the regular price.)

Husband: “Excuse me. That’s not correct; they should be 50% off.”

Cashier: “Well, that’s the price that’s coming up.”

Husband: “You’re having a sale on women’s sleepwear, though.”

Cashier: “No, we’re not.”

Husband: “Actually, you are.”

Cashier: “No, we’re not!”

Manager: “Is there a problem here?”

Cashier: “He says that women’s sleepwear is supposed to be on sale.”

Manager: “No, it’s not.”

Husband: *starting to get annoyed* “Then why does your sign outside say that it’s 50% off today and tomorrow?”

Manager: “What sign? There’s no sign.”

Husband: “If you look out the window here, you can see it.”

Manager: *barely glances out the window* “I don’t see a sign.”

Husband: “Would you like to come outside with me, and I’ll show you?”

(He isn’t really serious, but the manager takes him up on it, evidently thinking that she will be proven right.)

Manager: “Huh, look at that; there is a sign!” *goes back inside* “Okay, give him the sale price.”

(I told my husband later that if he’d really wanted to see the manager’s eyes bulge, he should have asked if they practice the Scanning Code Of Practice, because if they did, he should have either gotten the pyjamas for free or gotten $10 off, whichever would be less. He groaned and said that the whole ordeal was quite enough without doing THAT, thank you very much.)

(It’s Christmas time, and a customer is purchasing a gift card for my store and putting at least $50 on it.)

Customer: “So, is this returnable?”

Me: “The gift card?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but gift cards can’t be returned.”

Customer: “But this is a Christmas gift! What if my friend doesn’t like [Store]?”

Me: “Has she shopped here before?”

Customer: *huffy* “No, and neither have I.”

Me: “In that case, maybe you should get her a gift card to a place you know she likes? I know lots of credit card companies are now selling gift cards that can be used at a ton of different stores. Or you could just give her the money?”

Customer: “That’s so impersonal!”

Me: “So is giving a friend a gift card to a place you don’t even know they’ll like!”

(I’m working at a popular clothing store in the fitting room, helping customers and running clothes back to the store front. The fitting room also leads right to the restrooms. After a trip to the front, I come back and hear a customer coughing from one of the two restrooms. I hear the toilet flush and think its the end of it. Nope, I hear more coughing and another flush and the customer finally leaves the restroom; it’s an old woman.)

Me: “Ma’am, is everything all right?”

Customer: “Oh, I’m all right. It’s not contagious. I just got a little ill, a stomach ulcer. You take care, dear!”

(Fearing the worst, I take a quick look into the bathroom. Thankfully I don’t see or smell anything immediately, but I decide to put a wet floor sign in front of the bathroom to try and dissuade any other customers from using it while I get a manager to deal with it. I should mention that while I can clean spills at the store, only managers can deal with bodily fluids, which this definitely qualifies as.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager #1], a customer got ill in the bathroom. I blocked it off as best I could and it doesn’t look bad at all, but it still might need to be cleaned.”

Manager #1: “Oh, absolutely. I have some bleach I can use to clean it up later. Thanks for letting me know!”

(Thinking it is all taken care of, I head back to my post and hear a toilet flush. I look back and someone has moved the wet floor sign out of the way and used the bathroom. She doesn’t seem bothered by it, but I try leaning the sign against the door, to try a bit better to block it. It can’t be locked from the outside, at least not with a key I have. About an hour later, the manager I told about the mess leaves and, as far as I know, hasn’t cleaned the bathroom. I never see him come back, but he may have forgotten; it is a busy day. After another customer moves the sign to use the bathroom, so I decide to tell the next manager who comes in about it.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager #2], a customer got sick a while ago in the bathroom and I told [Manager #1] about it, but I don’t think he got around to it. Can you take care of it?”

Manager #2: “What kind of sick?”

Me: “Um… stomach sick?”

Manager #2: “Oh, no. Nope. Not going to do it.”

Me: “Are you sure? It didn’t look bad at all; it just needs disinfecting.”

Manager #2: “Nope, I don’t deal with that stuff. Make an ‘out of order’ sign and stick it on there.”

(My manager ended up making the sign and had me post it on the door. And that’s the story on how one of our two bathrooms went out of order because a manager didn’t want to clean it as she was specifically trained to do.)