Customer: *leering* “I need $15 worth of [Cell Company] minutes and your phone number, sweetness.”

Me: *pretending I didn’t hear the last part* “$15 of [Cell Company] minutes. Okay.”

Customer: *smirking* “And your phone number.”

Me: *curtly* “Not happening. I have a boyfriend.” *prints the slip* “It’s $15.50.”

Customer: *pays in exact change* “So, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

Me: *deadpan* “What are you talking about? I clawed my way up from Hell.”

(He quickly left and hasn’t asked for my number since.)

(A young customer comes to my till. I serve him, take his money, and he leaves. My supervisor comes over.)

Supervisor: “[My Name], did you just serve that customer without asking for ID?”

Me: “Well, yes. But—”

Supervisor: “You know the rules, if the customer looks under 25 we have to ID, and he was clearly younger than that.”

Me “But—”

Supervisor: “You need to be more careful. You know both the store and you personally would have to pay a fine if you’re caught selling alcohol to minors?”

Me: “I know that, but—”

Supervisor: “I know you’re usually very thorough with IDs, but if I see you doing that again, I’m going to have to write you up. We can’t risk having our alcohol license removed.”

Me: “[Supervisor]!”

Supervisor: “Yes?”

Me: “I didn’t ID him because he wasn’t buying alcohol. He was buying an energy drink.”

Supervisor: “Oh.” *short pause* “Okay, keep up the good work.”

(I am the manager at a very busy convenience store that also sells fuel. One particularly quiet afternoon, a customer pulls up and starts to remove every single light bulb from his car. I watch for a little while then go outside to see if I can be of any help.)

Me: “G’day. A problem with your lights?”

Customer: “Yeah, they all stopped working so I need new ones. You sell bulbs don’t you?”

Me: “Yes, we do, but instead of removing them all may I make a suggestion?”

Customer: “You? I doubt it, love. Girls don’t know anything about cars.”

Me: *not the first time I have heard this* “No problem, I’ll be inside when you need the globes.”

(The customer removes every light globe, indicator globe and even all the internal globes, puts them in a bag and comes inside to the counter.)

Customer: “I’ll have one of each of these.”

Me: “No problem.”

(I proceed to get all of the globes he needed, including the not so cheap headlight globes. He pays for them, totaling approximately $45, and then goes back to his car and spends the next hour or so putting them in, with me watching from inside with a huge smile on my face. After he installs them all, he turns on the car, tries the lights, and none of them work. By this stage I have let it go far enough, so I grab a $0.45 blade fuse, go to his car, pop the bonnet, change the fuse, got him to try his lights, and wouldn’t you know it? They all now worked!)

Customer: “…”

Me: “Have a great day!*

(Then I skipped back inside!)

Customer: “I need to know where the motor oil is.”

(I tell her, but she comes back to the counter with a bottle of transmission fluid.)

Me: “Ma’am, that’s not oil. It’s transmission fluid.”

Customer: “What do you know about it? You’re a girl. Just ring me up.”

(I ring her up. She pays and goes outside, pops the hood of her car, and gets on the phone. Two minutes later, she’s back.)

Customer: “I needed oil. You sold me the wrong thing. I need to exchange this.”

Me: “Okay. Do you need some help? It’s slow. I can do this for you.”

Customer: “What, do you think you know about cars? I’m on the phone with my husband and he knows more about it than you do. Just do the d*** exchange so I can get some oil.”

(I do the exchange. She comes back up with oil.)

Me: “Ma’am, that’s 50 weight. You don’t want that, you want 40 weight.”

Customer: “This is what my husband said to get.”

Me: “Oookay. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to help?”

Customer: “No. You’re a girl and you don’t know what you’re talking about. My husband works for [Company] and he knows way more about it than some clerk!”

Me: “Well, maybe he does, Ma’am, but he’s not here.”

Customer: “Just ring me up.”

Me: “Okay, if you’re sure you don’t need help.”

Customer: “I don’t need your help.”

Me: “Yes, Ma’am. You have a nice day, now.”

Customer: “Whatever.”

(I watch through the front window as she went back to her SUV and smugly poured her oil… into her radiator. I wonder what her husband said when her engine blew up halfway across the causeway.)

(My four-year-old niece has earned a dollar for helping out at home. She is quite excited, and has been carrying this bill with her all day. Her father stops at a local convenience store, and she brings her dollar bill inside with them. They are going to the register, when she realizes she has dropped her bill in the candy aisle. As she goes to retrieve it, a man with a female companion grabs it off the ground.)

Man: “Here’s my dollar! I must have dropped it!”

(My niece looks to her dad, shocked.)

Niece: “Daddy? That’s my dollar.”

Man: “Nope. I dropped a dollar bill right here. This one is mine. Right, honey?”

Female Companion: “Oh, it’s definitely yours. Shame on you, little girl.”

(My niece is tragically disappointed and confused. Her face is crumpled in defeat and she is near tears.)

Niece’s Father: “Humor me for a second. Hand that bill over to the cashier.”

Man: “Why? It’s mine!”

Niece’s Father: “Then you’ll get it back in just a second. Just humor me, okay?”

(The man reluctantly hands the bill over to the cashier.)

Niece’s Father: “[Niece], tell the man what numbers are on that bill.”

(My niece proudly repeats a string of numbers.)

Niece’s Father: “Miss, what is the serial number on that dollar?”

Cashier: *reads off the same numbers my niece just said from memory*

(My niece is ecstatic. As her father looks at the man and woman, they can’t even look him in the eye, and they rush out without a word. The best part? My niece bought her candy and the cashier was so impressed that she paid for it out of her own pocket so she could keep the dollar!)