Customer: “Do you have that diet water?”

Me: “Diet water?”

Customer: “Yeah, like, water but healthier?”

Me: “We have vitamin water. Did you mean that?”

Customer: “No, I mean that water that has zero calories.”

Me: “That’s just regular water, ma’am.”

Customer: “Yeah, regular diet water!”

I grab a cheap bottle of regular water.

Customer: “This has zero calories?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “Do you have any water that has fewer?”

Me: “Fewer than zero calories?”

Customer: *Like it’s the most normal question in the world* “Yes.”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “When will you be getting some in?”

Me: “That’s not a product that exists, ma’am.”

Customer: “Oh, no, did they stop making it?”

Me: *Giving up* “…yes.”

Customer: “Such a shame!” 

Related:
Choose Your Battles, Part 6
Choose Your Battles, Part 5
Choose Your Battles, Part 4
Choose Your Battles, Part 3
Choose Your Battles, Part 2

Customer: “Gimme some smokes. [Brand].”

Me: “May I see some ID, please, sir?”

Customer: “I’m military.”

Me: “Thank you for your service, but I still need to see your ID.”

Customer: “Where is your manager?”

I call my manager over.

Manager: “How can I help you, sir?”

Customer: “Your stupid Mexican girl won’t sell me my smokes without ID, but I served in the military, so I don’t need no ID! And even if I did, I was born in 1990, so that makes me like twice the legal age to smoke!”

Manager: “Sir, you are so wrong that I think your wrongness went all the way around to being right and ended up being wrong again. I can’t list all the ways you’re wrong; technically, mathematically, racially, legally…”

Customer: “What the f***, dude?! I just want my smokes!”

Manager: “And all we’re asking for is ID.”

The customer begrudgingly shows some ID, which confuses me; if he had it to begin with why cause all the drama?

Manager: “Thank you, sir. However, calling my staff a ‘stupid Mexican girl’ is also wrong as she is smart, she is ethnically Venezuelan, and she is a woman. Apologize to her, or I will refuse your sale.”

Customer: “I showed you my ID! You can’t refuse my sale!” 

Manager: “I can, and I am. You just lost your chance to smoke in the next few minutes. Have a nice day, sir!”

Customer: “F*** you, you [gay slur]!”

Manager: *Flashes the rainbow tattoo on his wrist* “Finally, he gets something right! Bye!” 

It was a glorious exit.

I work in a twenty-four-seven convenience store where it is common to see such places run by either Asian or South Asian families. I am Korean myself, but this store is not run by anyone I am related to.

A woman comes to the counter at 3:00 am one night with a single box of cereal. She points to our opening hours.

Customer: “What does ’24/7/365′ mean?”

Me: “It means we’re open twenty-four hours a day, every day of the week, and every day of the year.”

Customer: “So, when do you close?!”

Me: “Never, ma’am. The store is always open.”

Customer: “But… when do you get to go home?!”

Me: *Jokingly* “Oh, we get to work shifts! We have a bed in the storage cupboard, and another guy and I take it in turns.”

Customer: *Genuinely distressed* “Oh… that’s awful! That’s… that’s terrible!”

Me: “Ma’am, I was joking. I work eight hours a day, and then I go home. I don’t… live here.”

Customer: “I thought your people lived in the stores they ran?”

Me: “Uh… that’s not true.”

Customer: “If you’re being kept here against your will, you can tell me! I can get the word out!”

Me: *Desperately wanting the conversation to be over* “Your cereal is $4, ma’am.”

Customer: “Is that code for ‘help me’?”

Me: “In a manner of speaking.”

Related:
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!, Part 5
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!, Part 4
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!, Part 3
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!, Part 2
Never Joke With The Customers… Ever!

I am working a small convenience store that has a small TV above the counter showing the news. A customer approaches me holding a jam of preserves.

Customer: “I wanted the raspberry, but you only have strawberry! This is a catastrophe!”

Yes, he really did say, “…catastrophe”.

Me: “I’m afraid we’re out of the raspberry until the weekend delivery. We only have strawberry today.”

Customer: “This is, like, the worst thing that could happen to a person!”

As I respond, I’m trying to ignore the footage on the TV of wars and wildfires.

Me: “I’m sure, sir.”

I work in a small convenience store in a super small town. A customer comes in whom I recognize, and they try to buy some beers. I think they might be underage, but I can’t recall, but it’s not up to me to remember since we ID all alcohol sales. I ask for the ID, and he gives it almost too excitedly. It looks good, except for one teeny-tiny detail.

Me: “What year were you born?”

Customer: “2002!”

Me: “I can’t accept this ID.”

Customer: “Sure, you can!”

Me: “I really don’t think so.”

Customer: “Why not?!”

Me: “Your ID says you were born in the year 3002.”

Customer: *Snatches the ID back from me* “Whaaat?! That f***er!”

The customer ran out of the store, and I laughed and called his mom. (Super small town, remember?) I later found out from the guy’s mother that her son had spent pretty much all of his eighteenth birthday money on the useless fake ID. She found the whole thing so hilarious that she ended up framing it and putting it up in her living room.