(I am ringing up other customers, while also helping my assistant manager count cigarettes for inventory. A customer walks up with some of our air freshener products that have been marked down due to the department shrinking in size. We’ve had some trouble in the past few weeks with other customers putting items in the wrong place or new employees not knowing where to put them.)

Customer: “Hi! How are you?”

Me: “Doing fine. And you?”

Customer: “I’m doing great; thanks for asking. I wanted to make sure that these all rang up at the right price. Could you check them for me?”

Me: “I certainly can!”

(I start ringing up the items, watching each one and telling her the price of each. Three of the air freshener products come out on sale, but not at the price SHE wanted.)

Customer: “Why aren’t those on sale?”

Me: “These are on sale already at $6.99, which is better than the $8.19 price they originally were. Was there another price there? Maybe a clearance tag?”

Customer: “I understand they are on sale!” *at this point she’s yelling* “But they aren’t at the price I wanted them at!”

Me: “Let me get someone to go and check the price, then.”

(I call one of my associates over and ask for her to go check the three products. She goes and checks, but not any of the three are on sale.)

Me: “None of the three are on sale; did you still want to get them?”

Customer: *sigh* “No.”

(I continue ringing her up, and at the end of the transaction, my associate apologizes for the inconvenience.)

Coworker: “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, miss.”

Me: “We are trying to make sure that all clearance items are in the right place. I thank you for your patience.”

Customer: *screaming like a banshee* “BOTH OF YOU SHOULD BE FIRED! I HAVE BETTER SERVICE WITH THE OTHER EMPLOYEES THAN YOU TWO! HAVE A GOOD DAY!”

(Both of us looked at each other as she walked out the door, shaking our heads in disbelief.)

(I’m a customer in this one, although thankfully not the offender. On my way home from my job, I sometimes like to stop in a convenience store to satisfy my gigantic sweet tooth with the excellent chocolate they sell there. One evening is very busy, and unfortunately the line for their register is horrendously long. I’m standing at the back of the line, when a middle-aged mom rather rudely cuts the line in front of a taller woman.)

Taller Customer: “Excuse me! That was very rude!”

(The cutter doesn’t acknowledge her complaints. The taller one huffs indignantly and raises her voice.)

Taller Customer: “Ex-cuse me! You cut the line! I demand my spot back!”

Shorter Customer: “Leave me alone, you nosy c***!”

(The taller woman is aghast at this, and she immediately starts shrieking at the top of her lungs to all and sundry.)

Taller Customer: “THIS B**** CUT THE LINE, AND NOW SHE’S SWEARING AT ME! MANAGER! I DEMAND TO SEE THE MANAGER!”

(The shorter woman begins screaming at the tall woman just as loudly in Spanish, of which only an obscenity is recognizable. One of the store employees walks over to try to break them up and calm them down.)

Employee: “Please, can we both calm down here? What’s going on?”

Taller Customer: “THIS F****** BORDER-JUMPER CUT THE LINE, AND NOW SHE’S SCREAMING AT ME! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! I DEMAND YOU REMOVE HER AT ONCE!”

Shorter Customer: “F*** YOU! I HAVE TWO KIDS, AND I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE TO CATCH A DOCTOR’S APPOINTMENT!”

Taller Customer: “THAT’S NO F****** EXCUSE!”

(The poor employee is vainly trying to talk over them to get them to shut up. They’ve completely blocked up the line.)

Employee: “Please, could the two of you step out of the line so we can work this—”

(The tall customer rounds on him.)

Taller Customer: “YOU’RE TAKING THIS B****’S SIDE? I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! WHERE’S YOUR MANAGER? I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER!”

Employee: “Listen, ma’am, I honestly don’t know what happened, but you’re blocking the line and we need you to step out so we can work this out.”

Taller Customer: “F*** YOU! YOU’RE JUST REWARDING HER BAD BEHAVIOR!”

Employee: “Ma’am, if y—”

Taller Customer: “I SHOP HERE EVERY WEEK! I’M YOUR BEST CUSTOMER! WHY AREN’T YOU HELPING YOUR BEST CUSTOMER?”

(The short woman has had enough, and drags her two kids out behind her.)

Employee: “Ma’am, could you please calm—”

Taller Customer: “H*** NO, I WON’T CALM DOWN! YOU’VE JUST LOST YOUR BEST CUSTOMER! I’M NEVER SHOPPING HERE AGAIN! YOU HEAR ME? NEVER AGAIN!”

(With that, she FINALLY stomped out in a huff, leaving the poor employee utterly bewildered and a line of people finally moving again.)

I am 22, and have been working for my employer for over a year. At the beginning of the calendar year, I had a car accident and my car wasn’t salvageable on my budget, so I let it go.

I want a promotion, and I feel like 22 is a good time to start moving up someplace, so I start training with the manager in late summer. I am only learning the most basic things: how to use the handheld device to count stock, what frozen items to pull and when, etc.

It isn’t long in the “training” process when my manager hires a young man we nickname “Young Neil.” His name isn’t actually Neil, but we already have somebody working in our small convenience store with his same name. Young Neil was 19 — barely old enough to sell cigarettes and definitely not old enough to sell alcohol. After a few weeks, I learn he was actually hired to be the new shift lead, since he has a car.

If that isn’t bad enough, I make it clear when he and I meet the first time that I am in a committed relationship with another woman. My impression of him is that he’s a harmless flirt. Am I ever wrong!

He begins hitting on me, mercilessly. He constantly asks when I am going to take him home to meet my girlfriend, when we are going to all have a threesome together, etc. At first I write it off; I’m not attractive enough for him to be serious.

And then he starts asking me every single day. Every time we work together, this boy is harassing me.

I take it to my manager. He says, “Boys will be boys!”

I call corporate HR. They never answer the phone. So, I leave message after message. I get one call back and she basically tells me to suck it up.

The best day I ever have working there is my very, very last. I was hired the night before at a local fast food joint, so I go in to work at the convenience store fifteen minutes late for my shift, in street clothes. I owe my in-laws gas money, so I grab a twenty-cent item and ask for $20 back off my card.

The manager is at the register and asks me if I know I’m late, and if I will be returning shortly in uniform.

“F*** that. I quit!” I march out, head high. I have not gone back, nearly five years later.

This story is featured in our “I Quit!” roundup!

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(I have been working at a convenience store for close to six months now, and I feel very comfortable as the front door cashier. Most people are regulars and are usually very polite and kind towards me, though I have had some unruly customers try to intimidate me due to my age and appearance. Here is one conversation I’ve had.)

Me: “Hi, there! Did you find everything okay?”

Woman: *sighs a little* “I guess…”

(Before I can ask anything else, out of the corner of my eye, I see a teenage boy wearing a blue hoodie heading out of the store. Abruptly, the woman looks a bit haughty.)

Woman: “That kid stole a candy bar.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Woman: “He stole a candy bar. I saw him pick it up earlier; I don’t think he came to pay for it.”

Me: “Well, hopefully he didn’t steal a candy bar, but if he did, there’s nothing I can do besides let my manager know.”

Woman: “What do you mean? He just went outside the door!”

Me: “Okay?”

Woman: “You’re not going after him?!”

Me: *startled, as she and another woman are in line to get checked out, and it’s against the company policy to chase after possible shoplifters, as my safety would be at stake* “No, ma’am. There’s really nothing I can do. If he stole a candy bar, then he’s long gone. I’ll be sure to let my manager know, though.”

Woman: *gives me a dirty look but decides not to argue anymore*

Me: *ringing up her products* “Do you have a [Rewards Card]?”

Woman: *hands me the rewards card*

Me: *scanning it* “Great! That’ll be [total].”

Woman: *staring at the mini screen, frowning* “Where’s my discount?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am?”

Woman: “My discount! I always get the discount with that card; where is my discount?”

Me: “Um, ma’am, I’m sorry, but the card only takes money off if you get something that’s on sale. The items you’re getting are not on sale, except for the beef jerky.”

Woman: “But I always get a discount!”

Me: *recognizing that this woman won’t be reasoned with unless I’m blunt* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the ‘discount’ you’re mentioning only goes towards products on sale. Except for the beef jerky you’re buying, none of your items are on sale. That’ll be [total]. unless you wish to void the transaction.”

(She gives me a dirty look and puts her card in the chip reader, allowing the transaction to proceed. Once she gets her receipt and bag full of stuff, she storms off. At this point, she has forced a line to form behind her, and my manager has to help get them through as my coworker is on his lunch break. When she’s done, she heads over to ask me what happened, having heard a small bit at the end. I explain to her what happened.)

Manager: “Oh, all right. But next time, don’t let her leave angry; just call me over.”

Me: “Sure thing.”

(Of course, not two minutes later, guess who comes back? Yep, the grumpy woman.)

Woman: “I wanted cash back!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: “Cash back. I wanted cash back with my card; it’s a debit card! Can I do that?”

Me: “You’d have to buy something first, ma’am.”

Woman: *condescendingly* “Well, I already bought stuff…”

Me: “You’d have to buy something else first to get cash back ma’am. It only works during a transaction, not after.”

Woman: *scrambling for something else to complain about* “Well, I didn’t get my discount, and I know all of my stuff was on sale; I saw the tags!”

Me: “You probably saw them last week, ma’am, as our new sales of the week started on Sunday.”

Woman: *pause* “Do you have any wine bottle openers?”

Me: “No, ma’am, we do not.”

(She spies an ad booklet of the week and points to a picture of wine in the corner of the front cover, looking almost triumphant in a catty way, as if she’s caught me in some kind of lie.)

Woman: “Well, then, what is that?“

(I am getting pretty fed up with her attitude; this woman in her forties is trying to intimidate a twenty-one-year-old who is NOT going to take it lying down.)

Me: “That is for convenience stores that actually have a liquor licence, which we do not have.”

Woman: “…”

Me: “Will there be anything else, ma’am?”

Woman: “The beef jerky is disgusting!” *stomps out of the store like a five year old*

(If any of you think you can intimidate someone purely because of how young they maybe or appear to be, just remember that we can bite back.)

I live across the street from a pricey college campus. Two blocks up, on the corner, also directly across the street from the campus practice fields, is a convenience store. I stopped to fill up the car one night, and when I went in to pay, I discovered two college girls who didn’t feel safe to leave. Several guys in a van had been following them with the side door of the van opened, and two guys by that van side door.

The thing that really horrified me? They’d called Campus Security, and Campus Security refused to come get them because they weren’t actually on campus property, though they were right across the street from campus! I, of course, drove the girls back to their dorm. My husband was a college professor, so I knew the very pleasant and accessible president of the college. He and I had a conversation about campus safety the next day.

If I were paying tuition at that college and security wouldn’t come across the street to ensure my daughter’s safety, I think what I’d have said to the head of security might have set his ears on fire.