(An older gentleman walks up to the counter when I’m working and starts looking at the cheeses.)

Me: “Hi. What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “Is the Vermont Cheddar the yellow American?”

Me: “No, it’s cheddar.”

(I pull out the yellow American, and place it on the counter for him to see.)

Me: “What are you going to be making?”

Customer: “Well, my list says I need Yellow American… I’m making grilled cheese with it.”

Me: “Well, typically grilled cheese is made with American cheese.”

Customer: “I don’t know. I don’t want to get the wrong thing.”

Me: “I’m sure this is what you’re supposed to get. You said American was on the list?”

Customer: “I don’t know…”

Me: “Well, would you like to try it?”

Customer: “No, just give me the cheddar. I’m sure that’s what she wanted.”

Customer: I’d like the low sodium Salami
*I’ve never had anyone ask for low sodium Salami so I look at my list of meat and find nothing*
Me: I’m sorry Sir it seems we don’t have a low sodium Salami.
Customer: Yes you do! I’m looking right at it!
Me: Are you sure Sir? I don’t have a code for it.
Customer: *angrily* I’m positive! That’s what I want! Salami!
*I come around to the front of the meat case*
Customer: *pointing* Right there see?! 33% Lower Sodium!
Me:…Sir, that’s Bologna.

(I work at a deli that also serves hot food during the day. We have a hot case with various pieces of chicken and potatoes to make combo meals from. It’s the very end of the day and we’ve run out of breasts to make the combos with, so it’s by-piece or bust. It should be noted we have a discounted eight-piece meal that’s incredibly popular at the moment, so it’s a quick grab for most. It features two of each piece: breasts, thighs, wings, and legs. A customer walks up about twenty minutes to close, an older gentleman with frazzled hair looking a bit… out of it.)

Customer: *looking over the meals* “I want some chicken.”

Me: “Can do, but fair warning that we’ve run out of breasts, so I can’t make you any combos. Can’t substitute for ’em.”

Customer: *seeming a bit out of it* “That eight-piece chicken.”

Me: “Sorry. No more breasts for the night; can’t do any combos.”

Customer: “That eight-piece chicken.”

Me: “No breasts? Single pieces are all we have.”

Customer: *quietly, with a tinge of annoyance* “I want an eight-piece chicken!”

Me: *sighing internally, trying a different tactic* “I can give you thighs and other pieces, but no breasts—” *gesturing to the case FULL of the other pieces* “—perhaps a few of those?”

(At this point, the customer stares off into space, as if this decision would blow up a sun somewhere in the universe. He pauses for a minute.)

Customer: “Oh. Uh.” *stares* “Chicken?”

Me: “I, um… How about I just grab you a few of each and make you a box?”

Customer: *hazy* “Chicken?”

(I just nodded and made him a box. He ended up requesting five of everything, something close to nearly $25 of chicken. I handed it over, and he happily tottered off to the checkout. Enjoy the chicken, eight-piece dude.)

(I am working in a well-known grocery store deli for the summer. In this deli, in order to slice our meats and cheeses, our slicers go by .5 increments — .5, 1.0, 1.5, etc. A woman walks up to the deli counter.)

Me: “Hello, ma’am! Is there anything I can help you with today?”

Customer: “Yes, I would like a .8-slice of the Colby Longhorn, please.”

Me: “I would be happy to help you, ma’am. We aren’t able to do a .8-slice, though. I can give you a .5 or a 1.0.”

Customer: “Of course you can. Somebody does this for me all the time! All you have to do is turn the dial so that it is halfway between the .5 and the 1.0!”

Me: “Ma’am, it doesn’t really work like that. We don’t have markings for intermediate sizing.”

Customer: “Yes, you do! Someone does this for me all the time! I can’t believe that you don’t know how to do this!!”

Me: “All right, ma’am.”

(I crank the slicer to a 1.0 and slice her a test piece.)

Me: “Is this all right, ma’am?”

Customer: “Yes! Finally! I’m so glad you figured out how to do exactly what I wanted.”

Me: “Yes, of course, ma’am.”

(She walked away, not even knowing that I made her slice slightly larger than she actually wanted.)

(I work in a grocery store deli where we can be quite busy on Sundays, especially when it comes to trying to keep fried chicken on the table due to large chicken orders. A couple of people have been waiting ten to fifteen minutes for a new batch when the cook is finally able to bring out two different pans.)

Me: “Hi. What can I get for you?”

(She has been waiting for ten minutes.)

Customer #1: “Yes, I’d like an eight-piece fried.”

(I start to box it up.)

Customer #1: “It’s fresh, right?”

Me: *rather dumbfounded* “Um… yes.”

(A few moments later.)

Customer #2: “Hi. I’d like an eight-piece fried.”

(I start to get it from one of the pans.)

Customer #2: “No, I want it from this one over here.”

Me: “Well, okay, but they came out at the same time.”

Customer #2: “This one looks fresher. You should see it on this side from where I’m looking at it; it looks fresher.”

Me: *boxes up his chicken from the pan he wants* “Two minutes ago, we had no chicken. I can assure you they’re the exact same.”