I work as a cashier for a small-town convenience store that closes at 7:00 pm. One hot summer evening at 6:55 pm, from my position at the register, I saw a car roll up and park in our otherwise empty parking lot. A man who was built like a brick s***house stepped out of the driver’s seat and walked into our store.

To the relief of everyone on the closing shift, he was here for one item — a twenty-four-pack of water bottles — and knew exactly where it was. He paid with a card that he had ready when I gave him his total and was out of the store by 6:59 with his pack of water hoisted over one shoulder. I watched this reasonable customer step toward his vehicle… and realized that there was someone crawling out of the driver’s seat with a bag in his hand.

The thief saw the customer coming and tried to run away.

The customer proceeded to pitch the water straight at the thief, hitting him with enough force to floor the b*****d and spill water all over the parking lot. I could tell that a few of the bottles had broken because the paving of our lot was bright enough for the dampness to noticeably darken it. The thief was stunned long enough for the customer to reclaim his bag and yell something that I couldn’t make out, prompting the thief to flee.

Once the thief was gone, the customer looked at his scattered water, looked at the store, and started to gather his spilled bottles.

I’m under strict orders not to let customers into the store after closing… but when the customer was finished gathering and came back to the door looking sheepish, I gladly made an exception and took my punishment for it.

Related:
H2-OMG!, Part 4
H2-OMG!, Part 3
H2-OMG!, Part 2
H2-OMG!

I am working late in a twenty-four-hour convenience store. I’m from overseas and have an accent. A lot of the friendlier late-night customers pick up on this. A couple of guys come in, with the customer grabbing a bunch of items that indicate he might have the “munchies”. His friend, thankfully, seems coherent.

Customer: “Oh, nice accent! Where is that from?”

Me: “Australia.”

Customer: “Wow. So far. That must be like… a super long drive.”

I stare at him while his friend looks at him with a “Seriously?” face.

Customer’s Friend: “Dude.”

Customer: “How long was the drive?”

Me: “Not too long, but we got stuck in the Mariana Trench and had a h*** of a time finding a tow truck to get us out.”

The customer nods along solemnly while his friend just laughs.

Customer: “Well… you made it. Welcome to Canada.”

Customer’s Friend: “You mean California.”

Customer: “Whatever, you’re the one driving.”

Customer’s Friend: “Thank God!”

They walked out, and the customer’s friend high-fived me on the way.

It is recently post-Brexit Britain, and it’s also around the time the world is slowly emerging from lockdowns and the shut-down of the tourism industry. Our little corner shop is open and we’re selling newspapers with similar headlines:

Headline #1: “The EU reopens for tourism, but not to unvaccinated Brits.”

Headline #2: “UK residents require proof of vaccination to enter the EU.”

One of our regulars (one of the few who took issue with wearing a mask) is reading them.

Regular: “F*** the EU! I’ll go to Spain, instead!”

Me: “Did you vote for Brexit?”

Regular: “Yeah.”

Me: “Thought so.”

Regular: “Can I have my [Brand] cigarettes?”

Me: “That’s [price].”

Regular: “The price has gone up again?!”

Me: “Well, they’re made in Poland.”

Regular: “What’s that got to do with the price?”

Me: “Poland is part of the EU. We’re not. Import prices are increasing.”

Regular: “Why?”

Me: “Ask yourself!”

When I was in high school, I worked at a small convenience store. I pumped gas, stocked shelves, etc. When there were no gas customers, I would be inside doing other work, and then the bell would ring, and I would jog out to the gas pumps and help that customer.

There was one d****ebag regular who would come in about once a week. Sometimes, I was already out at the pumps helping other customers, but when I wasn’t, he would time how long it took me to get to him and start helping him. If it took me longer than twenty seconds to get from inside the store to his truck, he would go inside to complain.

Regular: “You’re not hustling enough! I want a discount on the gas or something for free!”

He was a real pain in the a**. After he would complain, he would say:

Regular: “If you don’t hustle in life, you get nowhere!”

Part of what made it so infuriating was that he would go into the store for ten minutes, blocking that side of the gas pumps and making it a pain for me to help other customers. He wanted me to hustle but didn’t do that himself.

I was finishing high school and going to college, so the time was approaching when I would leave the job. I only had one day left, and it was fairly late, so there weren’t many gas customers. I was way in the back, in the freezer, stocking milk, and the bell rang. I ran out the back door and around the building, and I saw our regular standing by his truck, looking at his watch.

He saw me and pointed to his watch. I stopped in my tracks and slooooowly walked to the truck. I purposely took about thirty seconds to walk that last twenty-five feet. He was red in the face he was so angry, so he stormed into the store and raised Hell.

My boss came out with him, and I simply said:

Me: “I have no idea what he’s talking about. I did take a few extra seconds because I was clearly in the back stocking milk, but I ran all the way out here just like normal.”

Regular: “She’s lying! I’m not going to pay!”

Boss: “If you do that, I’ll be calling the cops.”

He paid and then drove off in a huff. My boss and I walked back into the store.

Boss: “Did you purposely walk slowly because you knew it was him?”

Me: “I d*** near crawled.”

My boss broke down laughing.

I work in a small convenience store in south Spain, and like most businesses around here, we close for a couple of hours in the afternoon for the siesta.

I’m about to head out the back when I hear a crazy loud banging on the metal shutters at the front of the shop. It sounds aggressive enough that I think it might be an emergency. I open a small section on the metal shutter and see some tourists out front. They see me and start screaming in English.

Tourist: “Let us in!”

Me: “We are closed at the moment! We re-open at five.”

Tourist: “It’s so lazy of you all to close in the afternoons! I need to buy things during this ‘see-yes-tah’ time!”

Yes, she said “siesta” using air quotes.

Me: “It is what it is. Come back at five.”

Tourist: “It’s an emergency!”

Now, I do sell over-the-counter medicines and women’s sanitary products, so I can be sympathetic if they need something like that.

Me: “What’s the emergency?”

Tourist: “I’m going on a boat later, and I only packed two hats!”

My confusion must be obvious.

Tourist: “Everyone at the resort has already seen me wearing both hats! I need a new one!”

Me: “Come back at five, Señora.”

Tourist: “Ugh! Siestas should be banned!”