(I am full of a chest cold and have struggled to the pharmacy to stock up on decongestants, so I can go back to bed for as long as possible. My spouse has texted to ask me to pick up extra, as he’s starting with the same cold. As I look through the shelf of cold and flu medication, I notice that everything contains either paracetamol — acetaminophen — or ibuprofen. There are laws limiting the sale of those medications in the UK, which have significantly reduced intentional and accidental overdoses.)

Me: *pointing at shelf* “Excuse me. How many packets am I allowed to buy?”

Assistant: “Only two, I’m afraid.”

Me: “Oh, bother. For two of us poorly, that’s only two days’ worth. Never mind. I’ll just have to come back again.”

Assistant: “Well, unless you have a consultation with the pharmacist…”

(Fortunately, the pharmacist agrees to authorise sale of two packets each for me and my spouse, and after thanking her, I pay.)

Assistant: “People are so rude about the limit, though. You should hear what they’re like when we have to say no.”

Me: “What? But they do know it’s actually the law and not just [Pharmacy] policy?”

Assistant: “Yes. One man shouted at me for several minutes because I wouldn’t sell him ten packets of paracetamol in one go. Then he said, ‘I’m just going to come back in fifteen minutes to buy more and you won’t remember me.’”

Me: “I’m not sure that’s how that works.”

Assistant: “Yeah, he was pretty memorable by that point.”

Me: “And instead he could just have gone to [Shop twenty metres away] and [Shop fifty metres away], which both sell that kind of medicine.”

Assistant: “Exactly!”

(It’s four am, and I get a call.)

Caller: “This is [My Bank]. I’m sorry for calling so early, but your credit card number has been stolen!”

Me: “What?!”

Caller: “Yes. To verify your identity, please give me your credit card number.”

(Like a sleep-deprived idiot, I give my number. They tell me that they’re going to freeze the account, and we hang up.)

Partner: “Mhmf. What did they want?”

Me: “My card’s been stolen! They called as soon as…”

Partner: “…as soon as it was stolen?”

Me: *realizing* “I… I need to call our bank. Now.”

(I cancelled the card. Luckily, I didn’t have any charges yet. I now set my phone to Do Not Disturb mode when sleeping, and I tell any “banks” that I’ll call them by their official number!)

I work in a fast food restaurant that is inside a convenience store. One day, the store manager had five cartons of “soft pack” cigarettes set aside to be returned. They had been ordered by mistake, as most smokers prefer the standard, harder packs.  

When the vendor came to pick them up, only four cartons were there. The manager started looking at the cameras to try to catch the thief. While he was looking, another employee came in and told him that one of the fast food workers who was working that day was outside smoking those specific, uncommon cigarettes.

The manager confronted the employee, who confessed and offered to pay for them to keep his job. The manager refused, and the employee was fired.

Who is stupid enough to smoke the very things you stole at the place you stole them from?

(I am serving late on a Monday night when who I assume is the friend of the man I am currently serving comes up by the counter and stares me dead in the eyes and without emotion.)

Customer’s Friend: “This is an armed robbery.”

Me: *stunned and internally panicking since this has never happened before*

Customer’s Friend: *long silence*

Me: *still stunned*

Customer’s Friend: “Ha! It’s a joke!”

(Who the h*** thinks that’s a joke is beyond me. I don’t want to be in retail anymore.)

CONTENT WARNING: Violent Death Of A Dog

(I work at a pet shop as a dog groomer. This exchange happens between me and an unpleasant customer one afternoon.)

Me: “How can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “I had my dog groomed here, and you charged $3 extra for her haircut. I want to know why.”

(I look her up.)

Me: “After looking at her info, I see she got a special coat treatment and was charged extra.”

Customer: “I know she got special treatment. What I want to know is why I was charged extra for it. I only wanted it on one part of her body.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, we charge for extras. It even says so on our board, and we just can’t treat just one spot, so the groomer charged you.”

(The customer started screaming about how incompetent we all were and how she wanted a full refund for upsetting her. She grabbed some scissors on the desk and threatened to slash her dog’s throat if we didn’t do as she said. I yelled at my coworkers to call 911 because she had flipped and was scaring everyone in the shop. She ran out the door and drove off before the cops showed up. About two weeks later, I was walking across the parking lot of the vet next door to our shop when I heard a car start up. It was the customer, driving towards me, sticking her head out of the car, and shrieking. She drove right at me, and I had to jump out of the way before I got hit! She was screaming about how I owed her $3! I called the cops and gave them her name. When they entered her home later, they found that she had gutted her home and booby-trapped the inside so that “they couldn’t get to her.” She had binoculars trained at all the windows, watching her neighborhood. And she killed her poor dog. She got locked up for a very long time.)