Our store policy is to ask everyone for their ID no matter the age. A seventy-something-old woman comes up to my register.

Customer: “Hello, how is your night going?”

Me: “Fine thank you. Oh, ma’am, uh… may I see your ID real quick please?”

Customer: “I don’t have my ID. I left it at home; can’t you tell I’m old enough!”

Me: “Yes ma’am, I can but, it is the store’s policy to see everyone’s ID for alcohol and tobacco purchases.”

Customer: *Getting visibly irritated.* “Fine, if I go home and get my d*** ID will you sell me the wine.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, it is 9:50 pm, you have ten minutes till the store is closed, are you sure you can make it?”

Customer: “I can make it! Just shut up about the d*** ID!”

She leaves and fast forward ten minutes later the store is closed, the drawers have been pulled and I’m now mopping as I see this lady coming back up to the door.

Customer: “Hey! Let me in!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, the store closed at 10 PM.”

I move closer and put my phone on the glass door so she can see that it is 10:10 PM.

Customer: “No! I made it back before ten! Let me in!”

She pulls on the locked door.

Customer: *Screaming.* “You think you’re god but you’re not! You’re just a pipsqueak!” 

She storms off to her car. God carried on mopping.

Customer: “What time do you open tomorrow?”

Me: “6:00 am, sir.”

Customer: “Don’t confuse me with that military time s***!”

Me: “Six in the morning, sir.”

Customer: “Just say that next time! No need to show off to everyone that you served!” 

“AM” and “PM” are military time now?

Reading this story reminded me of when the owner of our store helped us out using a similar method. I work in a small-ish convenience store owned by a guy who has been in retail a long time — long enough to have heard it all and to have had some fun putting some random fun signs up near the cashier stations.

Me: “Hmm, this item doesn’t seem to be scanning. I’ll need to type it in manually.”

Customer: “Ha! If it doesn’t scan, does that mean it’s free?”

I stare with cold, emotionless eyes at the customer as I point to a sign literally above my head.

Sign: “In this store, ‘It must be free’ is a request for ritualistic combat to the death.”

Me: “Would you prefer swords, axes, or a spiked mace as your weapon of choice, sir?”

Customer: “I… guess you hear that a lot, huh?”

Not everyone shared the owner’s sense of humor, but all agreed if there was a sign dedicated to it then it must happen… a lot.

Related:
Signs Of Influence

A customer has been waiting in line during a busy stretch at my convenience store. I am finally serving him.

Customer: “What’s your name?! I want to call corporate!”

Me: “It’s Aaron.”

Customer: “Erin?”

Me: “No, sir, Aaron.”

Customer: “Ron? Just say Ron! None of this extra crap! It’s worse than pronouns, I swear!”

Me: “Sir, my name is Aaron.”

Customer: “No, you’re Ron! Stop trying to be all fancy!”

Me: “Wait, sir. If I may ask, why are you going to call Corporate?”

Customer: “To complain about you, of course!”

Me: “Then, in that case, you can call me anything you like, sir.”

This is a long ago when my state has just started the lottery. Everyone has gotten excited about winning ‘easy’ money and are going practically crazy buying lottery tickets and scratch offs.

Around 9 PM I walk into a gas station where I used to work, and I talk to a friend who still works there. A customer walks in and steps straight up to the counter.

Worker: “Yes, ma’am, may I help you?”

Customer: *In broken English.* “How much scratch off ticket?”

Worker: “$1 each, ma’am.”

Customer: “I want forty please.”

She picks the card style she wants and paid for them in cash. My friend counts out forty twice in front of her, to be sure. She gets her tickets and goes to her car.

We both watch her scratch the tickets in her car. After roughly twenty minutes, she comes back inside with her tickets and walks up to the counter.

Customer: “I want my money back!”

She slams the now used tickets on the counter.

Customer: “These no good! I want my money back!”

My friend looks to me, then to the customer.

Worker: “Uh, ma’am, I can’t. Once you buy them, they’re yours. You can’t bring them back for a refund. They’re yours forever and ever.”

She gives my friend a look that could kill a bear in its tracks, then at me. We really expect her to loudly complain, but she just quietly walks out to her car. We examine the tickets and find she had won money, but probably didn’t notice it or understand how they worked.

As she starts backing up, I run outside to inform her she had money coming and to come back in for her winnings. She almost runs me over before stopping!

She gets excited, gets out of her car, and runs back inside. Meanwhile I put her car in park for her! Yep, she’s that excited.

My friend explains how the scratch offs work and shows her the money she’s won. It really isn’t much of a win, though. She paid $40 and is walking away with $43. It doesn’t matter. She struts out the door as though she’s won a million dollars.