I’m working the evening shift alone. It’s the policy that when we’re alone and need to use the restroom, we wait until every customer has left and then we lock all of the doors. It’s a little after 10:00 pm and I’ve been waiting for two hours for the store to clear so I can take a quick pee break.

I lock the doors, put a sign up explaining what is going on, and take care of business.

A few minutes later, I open back up and help the customers that have been waiting outside.

A man comes to the counter. He’s a regular but doesn’t talk very much. He’s physically very intimidating, so I’m a bit nervous.

It turns out that he just wanted to make sure I was safe. He saw the people outside, but didn’t see me, so he pulled a U-turn on the highway and rushed over to make sure I was okay.

Thank you, sir.

I am usually upbeat at work and have earned the nickname “Friendly” for my ability to handle even the most difficult customer at the small convenience store I work at. On this day, however…

A customer is looking through a display of beverages in glass containers, and they are either too lazy to put it back on the shelf correctly or totally misjudge the distance, because after removing a bottle from the display to read the back, the customer replaces the bottle, where it immediately falls and breaks.

My coworker is up front on our second register, so I immediately close mine and run over to mark off the area with cones, put on an orange safety vest that shows a stick figure mopping on the back — to indicate I am busy with cleanup and cannot provide customer service at this time — and begin cleaning up.

For whatever reason, every. Single. Customer entering the store decides to walk directly through the sticky pile of glass and liquid I am trying to clean up, even though there are several cones in a circle blocking the mess from every angle and space for customers to walk down two different unobstructed aisles to go around me. 

At first, I attempt to be polite, but after about the fifth person walks past the cones to squeeze by me and literally crunches over the glass and slips on the puddle, I throw down the mop, which clatters to the floor, and scream, “STOP WALKING THROUGH THE F****** GLASS!”

I then calmly pick up the mop and continue cleaning. The store is absolutely silent for the next minute as I clean up the mess, put away the cones, and return to my register.

(I work for a company that contracts out for compliance checks for tobacco and alcohol sales. Since it is the beginning of the month, our manager is on our case about passing the compliance check. Sometimes the people hired aren’t always the brightest.)

Customer: “I want a pack of [Brand] short 100s.”

(Catching the contradiction a smoker wouldn’t make — shorts being the king length cigarettes and 100s being a bit longer — I know she is either the compliance check employee or buying for a kid.)

Me: “I’m sorry, we have [Brand] shorts and [Brand] 100s. Which did you want?”

Customer: “100s.”

(I grab the pack of 100s from our rack behind the counter and ask her again, to make sure I have the right product.)

Me: “These, correct?”

Customer: “No, the short 100s!”

(I grab the other pack and bring both to the counter for her to inspect.)

Me: “We have [Brand] shorts and [Brand] 100s.”

(I indicate both packs to show the difference.)

Customer: “All right, the shorts.”

(I scan the barcode and instantly the POS asks for an ID.)

Me: “Ma’am, can I please see your ID?”

(She graciously presents it to me, and I swipe it on the POS to electronically verify it.)

Me: “Thank you. Your total is $5.95.”

Customer: “Congratulations, you passed!”

(She then hands me the green card for the compliance check. However, instead of the compliance check company name printed across the top of the card, it has our competitor’s name and logo from the opposite side of town.)

Me: “Um, this is for [Competitor].”

Customer: “I’m sorry about that! Let me get your card from my car.”

(She returned a minute later with the correct card. A week later, we found out that she wasn’t actually hired by our company; she was only supposed to check our competitor, so this compliance check didn’t even count for our store.)

(My coworker and I are working at our local convenience store and are preparing to close for the night, as it’s almost 11:00 pm. A while ago, we were hiring some help, but we’ve already hired one. Two regulars, a man and a girl I recognize, come in. She is notoriously timid and never looks at us, does not respond, and looks fourteen. The man, her father, comes up with her, quiet and in tow, to my coworker at the register.)

Father: “Well, hi there. I heard a whisper that you’re hiring?”

Coworker: “Yeah, we were last month, but—”

Father: *interrupting* “Great! My daughter here…” *gestures towards the girl who is just standing there* “…is very interested!”

(He then proceeds on a loooong, awkward story of how her studies just didn’t fit and she now is ready for us! All this is without letting us say that, no, we are not really hiring anymore.)

Father: “She is ready to start tomorrow!”

Coworker: “Um… how old are you? 

(My coworker is directing the question to HER, as it’s apparent she is the one applying with papers in hand. Her father does not let her answer.)

Father: “19!”

(I already know she’s not a good fit for this job, as her dad applying and doing all the talking is not a good impression.)

Me: “I can just take those papers and place them in the office.”

(She barely looks at me as I take her resume. Her father, obviously not liking that, looks at me and then around me.)

Father: “I’ll just talk to the boss. Where is he?”

Me: “Oh, he’s not here; he went home at three.”

Father: *genuinely surprised* “Oh… Well, give me his number and I’ll introduce myself.”

(Yes, he said himself, not the daughter. I walk away due to the sheer awkwardness and later come back to my coworker.)

Coworker & Me: *in unison* “Yeah, no… Not happening.”

(I’m truly sorry for the girl but if you want a job, try not to bring your overbearing father… and maybe introduce yourself. Or say anything at all. That would be a great start.)

I work as a cashier in a convenience store and am helping a woman who is buying some magazines.
Customer: Can I just ask, how old are you?
Me: I’m 21.
Customer: (very surprised) Oh, really?! I didn’t think THAT!
Me: How old did ypu think I was?
Customer: Oh, I don’t know, 22 maybe!