I refused to sell a customer cigarettes because he looked underage and had no ID. Less than a minute later, an older man came in asking for the same cigarettes — uncommon ones that rarely sell, so I had reason to think they weren’t for him. As per policy, I politely asked:

Me: “Are they for the young man that just asked for these?”

At this point, if he’d have said no, I couldn’t have pushed any further and would have just sold them to him.

Older Man: “Yes.”

Me: “Then I can’t sell them to you.”

Older Man: “So, you’re punishing me for being honest?”

But he left.

Twenty minutes later, an older woman came in and asked for the same cigarettes. I had no reason to believe they were for anyone else, so I sold them to her. Another minute later, both the older man and woman stormed in, screaming and swearing, cornered me and my supervisor, asking over and over why I wouldn’t sell the cigarettes to the young man or his dad but sold them to his mum.

This was in the middle of lockdown when the health crisis was huge here, and they had no masks on, but they shouted less than six inches from our faces, asking for our names and threatening us.

All this over a packet of cigarettes when the kid could have just gone home for his ID, or the dad could have just lied. Some customers just don’t understand that it could literally cost people their jobs for not following procedure, especially with the number of test purchases that happen.

A couple of years ago, I was in college, and I worked at a convenience store. The rule was that you could only take a $100 bill when someone gassed up for at least $50 or bought at least $50 of merchandise, as a register only had ten bucks in change and getting larger amounts out of the timed safe could take twenty minutes.

I was talking to the manager about the graveyard shift I was about to finish when this new cashier came up with a $100 bill.

Cashier: “I need $98 in change.”

Since she had already taken the money, she wasn’t allowed to give it back, as that was a rule. The manager was about to give her twenties and tens.

Me: “Get one of the hundred-stacks of ones.”

When the girl walked back to the register and I was right behind her, the guy already changed his smile. His face really started to change when I was counting out $98 in one-dollar bills and the girl behind me just watched his smile going away. She wasn’t to blame, as she was new. He was to blame, and he wasn’t very happy when I was finished.

I also reminded him (and the cashier) about the policy of at least buying items for $50 in order to get change for a $100, referring them to our signs stating said policy.

I still don’t know why people get cash in $100 bills when they know most stores can’t give change.

I worked graveyards at a convenience store. One night, a guy came in and snatched the top couple of rows of $5 scratch tickets out of the counter display while the clerk’s back was turned.

We called the police.

Dispatcher: “We’ll send someone, but it might be a while.”

We called them back half an hour later.

Me: “We just wanted to let you know that our thief is at the lotto self-check machine and wants to cash in his winnings.”

He seemed surprised when the police surrounded him at the lotto machine five minutes later.

Due to a very traumatic incident as a child, I am terrified of being out in the rain. It causes me to go into a panic attack and I shut down for about a half-hour until I can calm down. I’ve gotten better over the years, but being out in a heavy rainstorm still sets me off. I get to work one day while it’s raining, and it’s getting worse by the second. I steel myself and then rush through the parking lot to get inside, about a 100-yard dash. I get in and think nothing of it, as I’m a little early.

One of my coworkers rushes up to me to tell me that I, somehow, have left my car running in the parking lot. I feel for my keys and check my purse, but it’s true. I’m filled with dread as I realize I have to run back out in the storm to turn my car off, and by now the sky is completely black at 2:45 pm.

I run out, panicking by the second, and I manage to turn my car off and start to rush back, but I can’t move as fast anymore, as I’ve already exhausted my out-of-shape self from doing this dash twice already. That’s when I see a shuttle bus driving up.

Though my store and the resort we are next to are technically two separate businesses, we are owned by the same people, to the extent that the resort’s Human Resources department doubles as ours. The driver is a coworker of mine, as well. I am the only person in that parking lot when the bus slows down in front of me, stops, and opens its door. I run to the door, grateful for the quick lift back to the store, but the door is shut in my face and the bus drives off.

I get back into the office and am thrown into a full panic attack, having to breathe into a paper bag to calm down, trying to not cry or go into a violent fit. I eventually calm back down enough to go to work. 

About a half-hour into my shift, one of the resort’s higher-ups comes in. I don’t know him, or his specific department, but he would have to be Human Resources at a minimum. He asks me if I’m okay when he sees the state I’m in, and, not really thinking about it, I tell him about the shuttle bus. He nods along as I tell the story, takes his purchase, says he hopes I feel better soon, and leaves.

The next day, I come into work to hear the latest gossip: one of the shuttle bus drivers was fired yesterday for intentionally leaving someone stranded in the rain.

When I was in my late teens, I was unlucky enough to come down with a nasty case of the flu. I was so weak that I could barely walk and it took me weeks to recover to something like normal. What I didn’t really realise at that point was that I had lost a lot of weight and had a bit of an unhealthy pallor to my skin. This led to several incidents in which people assumed I was an addict — a very humbling experience, believe me.

My girlfriend came to visit me at home and we decided to head into town and catch a movie. We stopped off at a local corner shop opposite our bus stop to get some snacks before catching our bus, but I could not make up my mind about what I wanted. Whilst she was waiting on me, my girlfriend looked at some comics, and whilst she had picked up an annual she was thinking of buying for her niece, the store clerk suddenly appeared in front of me.

Clerk: “Can I help you?”

Me: *Somewhat surprised* “No, thank you. I’m just trying to make my mind up.”

The clerk muttered something about being over there if we needed him and stomped off. My girlfriend and I exchanged a confused look, but I grabbed a few packets of sweets, she put the annual back, and we went over to the counter to pay for our stuff.

Clerk: “What about her magazine?”

Me: “What do you mean? She didn’t have a magazine.”

Clerk: “Yes, she did! She was holding a magazine when I spoke to you, and you didn’t go back to the magazine counter, so where is it?”

Girlfriend: “Excuse me. I was not holding any magazine! I took an annual from the display right next to where you spoke to us, and I put it back. I don’t like your insinuations!”

Clerk: “I am sure you were holding a magazine!”

Me: “Look, man. You are mistaken. What do you want us to do?”

He muttered something, sniffed, and rang us up. We left the shop and waited for our bus. We were talking about how ridiculous he had been when we looked up and saw him staring at us through the shop windows. We laughed at how absurd he was being, at which point he literally ran to the magazine rack, had a look through it, and then angrily left the shop and stomped over to us at the bus stop.

Clerk: “I don’t think what you have done is funny, and I don’t think you should be laughing at me! You definitely took one of those magazines and you didn’t put it back!”

Me: “What the h***, dude?! How many times do we need to tell you? We never had a magazine! There is an entire display case right by where you saw us; check your cameras! I can’t believe you have followed us like this!”

Clerk: “Your girlfriend must have taken it; it must be in her bag! Let me see her bag.”

Girlfriend: “F*** off! You have been told what happened. You have until our bus gets here to check your cameras or call the police. Do what you like.”

Clerk: “Oh, that’s nice language. Very good.”

He stormed back across the road and into the shop and watched us until our bus pulled up and we left. You’d think that would be the end of it, but I decided I wasn’t going to let it go. When I got home later, I looked for the area manager’s contact information online, couldn’t find it, and called the shop looking for it.

Guess who the assistant who answered passed the phone to?

Clerk: “I can’t believe you stole from me and now you’re phoning to complain!”

Me: “This behaviour is crazy. By now you must have checked your tapes and realised we were telling the truth.”

Clerk: “No! There is no camera covering where you were — as if you don’t know that.”

Me: “That’s unfortunate, but no, I did not know that, and it’s not my problem. Your behaviour has been erratic and outrageous. Please give me your name and your area manager’s contact information. In the meantime, I suggest you go do a stock count because you’ll find nothing missing!”

Clerk: “No! You give me your name! I want to make a complaint about you!”

Me: “You realise that makes absolutely no sense, right? Just give me the information I’m asking for.”

At that point, he scoffed and passed the phone back to the assistant who first answered, and they gave me the area manager’s information.

I spoke to the area manager later that night. They apologised but obviously said that they would need to speak with the clerk and review the tapes to see what had happened. They never got back to me, so I never went back to the shop.