(I’m the manager at a busy gas station with a convenience store. There has been a major power outage in our little town; power has been out for seven hours at this point and nothing is open. Still, people pull in hoping to gas up or buy some snacks, and I spend a good part of my day telling people we are closed as I can’t leave the building. A lady pulls in, gets out of her car, and starts walking to the door, so I open it to talk to her.)

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, power’s out and we’re closed.”

Customer: “I know, but can’t you just sell me one little bag of ice?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Not today, anyway.”

Customer: “You can’t even sell me one single bag of ice?”

Me: “I’m afraid not. Sorry.”

Customer: *in an angry, sing-song tone* “Well, how am I supposed to keep my food cold if you won’t sell me any ice?!”

Me: “Ma’am, we can’t even keep our own food cold. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Customer: “What the h*** am I supposed to do, then?!”

Me: “Well, you could cross the bridge in to [Town three minutes away in another province]. I know for a fact that they have power, and they sell ice, as well.”

Customer: “I don’t go to [Town] because I don’t like bridges! So there!”

Me: “Oh, okay, then. I’m sorry. Have a good night.”

(As she walked off, I looked over at our electric ice freezer that had been sitting out in the hot sun for seven hours and wondered how she thought we were keeping our ice frozen. They were basically bags of slush at that point.)

I have been working in the food preparation area of our store for quite some time, and I am on an overnight shift. Besides me, there is a person on register, and a manager who is very friendly, but follows the rules. A couple comes in with their three younger children around midnight.

The father orders a foot-long sub for each person, and when I see the order, each sub has the same meat on it, but everything else — veggies, dressings, and cheese — is different. I already know what this is leading to, so I am very careful since the store is empty.

I do each sub separately, printing out the tickets ahead of time and taping the ticket to the corresponding sub when I’m done with it. Finally, all five subs are finished and I call the number. The father picks up the subs and the family leaves the store.

I immediately rush a second set of the same tickets back to the manager, and she nods when she sees the order.

The customer returns just as I am walking out of the back and asks the cashier to see the manager. Our manager comes out, and the father shows her the subs. I notice they have moved the tickets around, and the father claims they are all wrong.

My manager helps me make a second round of the exact same subs, and refunds the cost to the man: $30. He walks out with free subs, and we have to log everything on the subs as waste and throw them in the garbage.

I look at my manager after we’ve finished, saying that I hate some people.

She sighs, and says, “Me, too.”

(A customer that complained yesterday about there being tax on his soda purchase comes to the register with more soda.)

Customer: “I have to tell you something… Yesterday I bought a hot dog here. It got stuck in my throat and I couldn’t breathe! It happened once before and I got sick from it! I am not buying hot dogs here anymore!”

Me: “Okay…”

(He then angrily told me what else he wanted and glared at me the whole time… because it’s my fault he can’t chew his food?!)

(I overhear a conversation between a guy holding a box of donuts and the cashier. The customer brings the donuts to the counter.)

Customer: “Do you sell donut holes?”

Cashier: “I don’t think so. [Bakery] is a couple of blocks away; you should have better luck there.”

Customer: “Thanks. Do you sell any non-toxic glue?”

Cashier: “I know what you’re planning and let me tell you from experience: it isn’t going to work.”

Customer: *crestfallen* “Oh… I’ll just have these, then, please.”

(It took everything I had in me not to burst out laughing right there!)

(My assistant manager and I are working together on the evening shift. It’s slow, and we’re the only ones in the store. A middle-aged man comes in and asks for lottery tickets. Since we’re the only ones in the store, my assistant manager decides that she’ll print the tickets and I can ring up the sale.)

Assistant Manager: “Just give her the money and I’ll do you!”

Customer: *without missing a beat* “I don’t think I have enough money for that!”

(All three of us looked at each other and my assistant manager realized what she’d just said. We all cracked up laughing.)