Many years ago, while working for a well-known electronics store, our area experienced a massive ice storm. Many roads were closed, as were many businesses.

Knowing that I lived at the bottom of a hill and my older sedan wouldn’t make it up the hill that was covered in ice, I called my manager to let him know that there would be no way for me to get to work. He immediately got annoyed and said:

Manager: “You have a shift today, so you need to be here!”

I explained that I lived on a hill and that due to the thick layer of ice on the road, my car couldn’t make it up. I also asked why we were still open when most of the roads and all of the other businesses in the area were closed, and he said:

Manager: “It’s not as bad as people are making it seem. I’ll figure something out and call you back.”

Fine. Whatever. About fifteen minutes later, he calls back.

Manager: “[Coworker] has a jeep and lives a couple of minutes away. They’re the other person scheduled to work with you tonight. They’ll come pick you up because jeeps can make it through anything.”

Me: “That’s a bad idea.”

Manager: “You don’t get to have an opinion because you have to work.”

Four hours later, just before my shift, I get a call from [Coworker] to tell me he has arrived. He also lives at the bottom of the hill, so he was able to take flat roads to get to me. I walk outside and get in the car, and we give each other a knowing look and start making our way up the hill. The jeep’s wheels start to slide, and the vehicle rolls back. We try again and slide back down. One more time, and we slide back down.

[Coworker] tells me that he had told the manager that his jeep wouldn’t be able to make it up the hill either, and the manager told him that “jeeps can make it through anything,” just like he’d told me.

At this point, I’m not risking our safety for this job, so I invite my coworker inside my apartment, and we call the manager together to let him know that no, jeeps cannot make it through anything and now he’s cost himself both employees who were scheduled tonight instead of just one.

He informs us that about two hours earlier, he’d gotten word that the major road the store was on had been closed anyway, so they’d closed the store. You’re telling me that we could have avoided all of this, including my coworker now being stuck at my apartment, and he didn’t call to let us know!?

I work as a donation attendant at a Goodwill-type place. Encyclopedias are one of the items listed as ‘do not accept’. We had this one lady with a trunk full of them.

Me: “Ma’am, we can’t take these.”

Woman: *Shouting.* “What, why not?!”

Me: “It’s just our policy not to take them anymore.”

Woman: *Now angry and shouting.* “Don’t you guys send stuff overseas?! Can’t you give it to kids in Africa?”

Me: “If you feel some kids in Africa need your 1987 edition of Encyclopedia Britannica, please feel free to send it to them!”

Woman: “That’s your job! I’m doing a good deed already by bringing them here!”

Me: “Ma’am, these are out of date, and we have the internet now. You’re not doing a good deed; you’re using us as a place to dump thirty heavy books that can only be used as doorstops now.”

She shouted a few more times and drove off. The next morning, I came to open the store in some heavy rain, to see the encyclopedia volumes dumped at the front door, ruined from water damage.

I worked quick service food at Disney World in the past. A guest comes to my location:

Guest: “I have an allergy to pineapple, but I want the Dole Whip, please. Just keep the pineapple flavor, but none of the actual juice.”

Me: “Sorry, but the Dole Whips get their flavor from real pineapple. Pineapple is actually blended into the mix. I can offer you the vanilla soft serve instead?”

Guest: “Pfft! As if there’s any real fruit in any of your s***! You’re just being lazy!”

Me: “Sir, everything is pre-blended, so it is exactly the same amount of effort for me to serve you the pineapple or the vanilla flavor.”

Guest: “So either you’re being lazy, or you’re refusing to accommodate an allergy, which is even worse! You’re literally ruining my vacation! I’ve had it before, so just quit being difficult and give me my Dole Whip.”

All allergies are ultimately handled by coordinators and above anyway, so I tell her:

Me: “I’ll get a coordinator to complete your allergy request.”

The coordinator is just as confused as I am after trying to explain the same thing. The coordinator ends up giving her a cup of vanilla soft serve, and the woman gives me a triumphant death glare, keeping eye contact as she takes a bite and walks away, seemingly satisfied.

I’m behind some lady in line who is buying, among other things, one of those bulk packages of individual bottled water. Because it’s fairly heavy, the checkout girl comes around with the handheld scanner to grab the barcode off the package.

This woman flips out.

Customer: “Don’t you put that thing anywhere near me!”

Cashier: *Confused.* “Ma’am?”

Customer: “I did not give you permission to shoot them lasers through my water!”

Cashier: “Ma’am, I need to scan the barcode to charge you for the water.”

Customer: “Type it in!”

The cashier shrugs (she seems used to behavior like this, sadly) and looks at the barcode.

Cashier: *Out loud.* “Four, One…”

She walks back around to her register and types in four and one (I assume). She then comes back around to the lane and looks at the barcode on the water again.

Cashier: *Out loud.* “Nine, Four…”

Repeat the walk back to her register.

Customer: “You can’t remember more than two numbers at a time?!”

Cashier: *Holds up the handheld scanner.* “No, because of all the brain damage caused by being so close to the lasers all day.”

The cashier did that journey eight more times to type in that long-a** barcode. I was next in line, but I didn’t mind, as seeing that woman turn redder with anger on each journey was very entertaining. When it was (finally) my turn, I told the cashier I love it when retail workers have no more f***s to give.

Related:
Behold The Field In Which I Grow My F***s. Lay Thine Eyes Upon It And Thou Shalt See That It Is Barren, Part 5
Behold The Field In Which I Grow My F***s. Lay Thine Eyes Upon It And Thou Shalt See That It Is Barren, Part 4
Behold The Field In Which I Grow My F***s. Lay Thine Eyes Upon It And Thou Shalt See That It Is Barren, Part 3
Behold The Field In Which I Grow My F***s. Lay Thine Eyes Upon It And Thou Shalt See That It Is Barren, Part 2
Behold The Field In Which I Grow My F***s. Lay Thine Eyes Upon It And Thou Shalt See That It Is Barren

I used to work at a super small pumpkin stand that sells pumpkins for a dollar each.

Customer: “If I buy a pumpkin, can you give me change for a hundred?”

Me: “I don’t even make that much in a day.”

Customer: “Ugh! You should charge more per pumpkin then! [Chain Grocery Store] sells them for seven!”

The owner planted them for cheap. A lot of the people around here are pretty poor, so he tries to sell them to the less fortunate people. Stores hike the prices up because they know they can get away with it.

It’s near the end of the day, and I just so happen to have $79 in change.

Me: “I could… uh… sell you three pumpkins for $7 each, and break that hundred for you?”

Customer: “Finally! Showing some problem-solving skills!”

The man walks away with three pumpkins and all of my change with the confident gait of someone who thinks they just won…