(I am working the till at a popular clothing store when a teenager comes to me to check out with her debit card.)

Me: “Please hit the pound key before you start typing your code.”

Girl: “Pound key? Where is that?”

Me: “It’s the number symbol.”

Girl: “HA! You mean the hashtag? I can’t believe you just called the hashtag a pound key!”

Me: *silence*

Girl: *finishes paying and goes to leave* “How old are you? Did they call it that in the ’70s or something? I will NEVER get over that!”

(I am working the register when I am approached by a mother, daughter, and grandmother with a return, which happens to be a $140 coat.)

Me: “Oh, I see you have a return. Was there anything wrong with the coat?”

Mother: “No, her uncle bought it for her and she doesn’t like it.”

Me: “All right, I’ll just need to see the receipt.”

Daughter: “I wasn’t given a receipt when I got it.”

Me: “Okay, not a problem. However, I will need to see some form of ID and I can only return it for the current sale price.”

Mother: “Okay, that’s no big deal.”

(I enter all of the required information, scan the item and am ready to complete the transaction.)

Me: “You’ll be getting back $84.80. Did you want a copy of the receipt sent to your email?”

Mother: “What? No, the coat was $140. That can’t be right.”

Me: “Like I said ma’am, the coat is currently on sale and that’s the price I can return it for.”

(The grandmother decides to chime in.)

Grandmother: “Listen here, you little s***. My son paid $140 for that coat; now we want a full refund. My granddaughter shouldn’t be punished for your god-d*** incompetence.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry but there is nothing I can do without the receipt.”

(After being cussed out by the entire family, the girl, without even looking, promptly reaches into her purse and pulls out the receipt. I scan it and the return comes out to $84.80.)

Me: “Once again, you’ll be getting back $84.80, and would you like a copy of your attitude sent to your email?”

(The family quickly grabbed the coat and hustled out of the store.)

(I’m the manager of a clothing store, and we we’re having a group training session for our seasonal new hires. Out of the four hires there is one who just doesn’t seem to be catching on. At the end of the night they divide up the closing cleaning checklist, and one girl chooses to sweep. The checklist states to sweep the sales floor, fitting rooms, and windows – meaning the area around the window displays. I’m counting down the registers when she approaches me.)

New Hire: “I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a question about the sweeping.”

Me: “Sure, what’s up?”

New Hire: “When it says to sweep the windows… Do I just like, run the swiffer across the windows or…?”

(She trailed off and I just stared at her for a second in disbelief.)

Me: “Um, no, you just sweep the floor around the windows. The windows themselves get cleaned with glass cleaner.”

New Hire: “Oh, that makes sense!”

(When we were leaving the store at the end of the night, I told them we had to do a bag check, and everyone else immediately opened their purses and bags for inspection. She stood there motionless until I explained to her what was going on… I figured she’d understand what that meant, or at least pick up on what everyone else was doing! She didn’t last long.)

(It’s near closing time and I have been chatting with the associate as she rings up my clothing. Note that I’m an astrophysicist and have mentioned this earlier in the conversation.)

Sales Associate: “Can I ask you something, honestly?”

Me: *warily* “…sure?”

Sales Associate: “Do you believe in aliens?”

Me: “Um, well, it’s really unlikely that we’re the only form of life in the whole universe, but I don’t really believe we could be, you know, visited by any other life form. I mean, the universe is a really big place and they come here to leave crop circles? Hah!”

Sales Associate: *looking around* “Well it’s just that I have always had a special connection with aliens wherever I go. Here you go!” *she hands me my bags*

Me: “Oh. Okay! Thanks! We’ve got to get going now. I mean, it’s quite late.”

(I begin making my way to the door; my sisters are already heading out, having heard the conversation. The sales associate comes out from behind the counter and follows me.)

Sales Associate: “I used to live in New Mexico and I saw these lights this one time. And now that I’m here I’ve had quite a few experiences.”

Me: “Well, I am sure that you’ve had experiences that are super special to you. That’s fantastic. As to whether or not they were aliens, well, it’s all in what you believe.”

(She seizes my hand.)

Sales Associate: “You are absolutely right. Yes, thank you. You’re the first person to believe me.”

Me: *inching away and trying to not rip my hand from her grasp* “Well, as long as you believe it yourself, that’s what is important. I mean, it doesn’t matter what anyone else believes, what I believe.”

Sales Associate: *finally letting me go* “Yes! Thank you so much. Okay, you have a good day now! Thank you! Thank you for believing in me!”

(As cashiers, we’re required to ask for emails at the end of a purchase. Customers can decline, and it’s no problem for us to bypass the email capture screen. I’ve just finished up ringing a young woman and her boyfriend.)

Me: “Perfect, we’re almost done! Could I just enter your email?”

Customer: “Sure. It’s BS@f-a-r-t-n-u-g-g-e-t.com.”

Me: *typing it in without thinking* “All right, if you could just verify the email below on the card reader— oh.”

Boyfriend: *snickers*

Me: “I guess that’ll be a ‘no, thank you’ on the email then…”