(I work at a convenience store that’s part of a gas station, and we often stock some automotive supplies inside or in front of the convenience store. One particular very cold day, when it’s -12 F, a regular customer walks by as I am stocking antifreeze in front of the store.)
Customer: “Hey, [My Name], no one’s going to buy that if it’s frozen solid.”
(I just stare at the customer for a few seconds until it clicks in his head.)
Customer: “Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”
(I work in a convenience store. It’s a slow evening and I’m wiping down the soda fountain counter when a man who appears to be in his early 20s walks in. I greet him and then go to stand behind the register. He looks around and then approaches the counter.)
Customer: *mutters*
Me: “What was that? I didn’t catch it. You’ll have to speak up.”
(The customer looks around again, and then leans over the counter and gestures for me to move closer to him. I shake my head because I’ve never seen this guy in my life and don’t know what his intentions are.)
Customer: *cups his hands around his mouth, whispers* “Do you guys sell condoms?”
Me: *normal tone of voice* “Yeah, we sell condoms.” *points* “They’re over there.”
Customer: “Shh! Don’t point to them!”
(He hurries over to the small display, then grabs a box of them and tosses them onto the counter. I ring him out and he quickly hides the box in his pocket, takes his change, and hurries out of the store, glancing around as he does. My coworker, who stopped sweeping the sidewalk to watch the customer, comes back inside.)
Coworker: “You okay? That guy seemed a bit weird.”
Me: *rolls eyes* “Yeah, I’m fine. He was just super embarrassed about asking for a box of condoms.”
Coworker: *snorts* “In my opinion, if you’re so embarrassed about buying something to use for sex, you shouldn’t be having sex.”
(In Australia, or at least, in Sydney, cigarettes can’t be on display; generally, they’re in white cases which have doors that you push up. In my particular store, we’re phasing out the selling of cigarettes and have very few left. I’m not a smoker and know very little about cigarette brands. Because we’re phasing them out — and have advertised this — my employer has told me not to bother learning all the different brands.)
Customer: *walks up to the tills and barks out a brand of cigarettes I’m unfamiliar with*
Me: “I’m sorry, sir, what was that?”
Customer: *repeats the name and then, in response to my slightly blank look* “Cigarettes, you f****** idiot. I want my cigarettes!”
Me: “My apologies, sir, I’m a non-smoker and we’re phasing out cigarettes in this store, so I don’t know all the brands.”
(I unlock the cabinet and start looking for the brand he wants. It’s hard since most of the cabinet is empty and we only have about three packets left.)
Customer: “You’re taking too f****** long! Give me my f****** cigarettes!”
(The owner comes behind the counter to figure out what the commotion is.)
Owner: “Can I help you, sir?”
Customer: “This b**** is taking too long with my f****** cigarettes. I want my f***–“
(He can only get half the word out because the owner interrupts him.)
Owner: “You need to leave my store, now!”
Customer: “But my—“
Owner: “No. You’ve been incredibly rude to my cashier, when she has been nothing but polite to you. In two more days, we will no longer be selling cigarettes here, and you’ll be lucky if we serve you for anything else after your rudeness today.”
(The customer left, swearing under his breath about my incompetence. The owner made sure I was okay before going back to what he was doing and I kept serving. I understand that it can be frustrating when someone doesn’t know what you’re talking about, and had we been fully stocked and continuing to sell cigarettes, I would have learned the brands, but regardless, there’s no need to be so rude to your cashier! Thanks to my awesome boss for being so protective of me.)
(I’m on my lunch break and stop to purchase a lottery ticket. I’m wearing my hoodie with my company logo on. A customer behind me in the queue decides to start a conversation.)
Customer: *pointing at my lottery ticket* “Ooh, you know gambling isn’t good for you!”
(I smile politely.)
Customer: “A nice young girl like you shouldn’t be wasting your money on that. You do know that it’s gambling, don’t you? It’s not good for you!”
(I laugh awkwardly and turn to pay for my ticket.)
Customer: “Ooh, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you! People shouldn’t be gambling like that, especially not people like you. Don’t you think?”
(I point at the logo on my hoodie to reveal that I work for a betting company with “Bet” in the title that is known nationwide.)
Me: “Well, if people stopped gambling, I’d be out of a job.”
(He opened his mouth to say something and then decided against it, but looked at me very judgmentally until I left.)
(Our store is in a shopping center with a multitude of others. We have covered sidewalks that run along the whole length of the front of the stores, and trash cans that people tend to slap flyers on. The trashcans aren’t affiliated with any store; they’re considered public property, so people can post what they like. Someone recently placed a poster about a guy in the community. It was offensive, so it was ripped down, but someone posted it back up the same day. The next day, my coworker takes a call from a furious woman. I only hear my coworker’s side of it for the most part.)
Coworker: “Thank you for calling [Store]; this is [Coworker]. Yes, ma’am, I’ll get that for you right now.” *turns to me to ask for the corporate number* “What? What flyer? We don’t post flyers in the store, ma’am… No, ma’am, that’s not allowed. Do you mean the one on the trash can?… Yes, ma’am, I saw it. It’s on public property. It’s not ours.” *starts to look upset at this point and gives her name* “Yes, ma’am, I read some of it… No, I didn’t take it down… Because it’s public property. Anyone can place what they like… Wait, you’re going to try and get me fired for reading it?… So, no matter who answered the phone, they were going to get in trouble, and I was the lucky one to answer?”
(I take the phone from her at this point, because she’s about to cry.)
Me: “This is [My Name], what can I do for you?”
Angry Woman: *still in a tirade* “…and I will have you know I am recording this.”
Me: “Ma’am. Ma’am.”
Angry Woman: “Who is this?”
Me: “This is [My Name]. You were wanting the number to corporate?”
Angry Woman: “Yes, I do. You put that offensive poster up outside your store.” *goes off into another tirade that I ignore for the most part as I go for the number*
Me: “Ma’am. MA’AM! Do you realize that is on public property? We have no control—“
Angry Woman: “I just want the number for corporate.”
Me: “That number is—“
Angry Woman: “And don’t think that you are getting away with posting that crap in your store.”
Me: “Well, I don’t appreciate you talking to my coworker that way.”
Angry Woman: “I will talk to her any way I want!”
Me: “Do you want the number to corporate or not?”
Angry Woman: *hangs up phone*
(The next day, my manager receives a call saying we were unprofessional. The manager gives the woman the number for corporate. She comes in the day after that and is at my register. Not only do I recognize her, but I realize that she works at the bakery my sister owns.)
Me: “Did you find everything okay?”
Angry Woman: “Yes. I see your manager finally took down that poster.”
Me: “What poster?”
Angry Woman: “The one you had in the store about that man. You know he didn’t do it, right? My five-year-old girl read that. I hope your manager fired that girl who let it get posted.”
Me: *smiling as large as I can* “Nope. She didn’t. I didn’t, either, though I appreciate you calling us unprofessional.”
(She shut up and hurried through checking out to rush out of the store. I then notified my manager of the woman. Sure enough, my manager got another call about me and how unbearably rude I was to her. My manager only laughed about the call, but I decided to contact my sister about the woman. Guess who got fired in the end?!)
