(I’m working as a cashier at a big supermarket, and this lady comes up to my till, and I start ringing up her items.)

Customer: “Take it off!”

Me: *point to the last item I just rang up* “This one?”

Customer: “Yes.”

(I take it off and put it on a small desk on my right side so a coworker can come and put it back.)

Customer: “I want that!”

Me: *points to the thing I just took off* “This one?”

Customer: “Yes.”

(I ring it up again.)

Customer: “Take it off!”

(I take it off, and put it back on the table.)

Customer: “No, I want this…”

(This goes on and on for a few minutes, until…)

Customer: “Oh, I want this, but I just won’t pay for it.”

Me: “Sorry, but that is not how this works. If you want anything from this store, you’ll have to pay for it.”

Customer: “B****!”

(She paid for everything and left.)

Related:
Doesn’t Understand The Custom Part Of Customer, Part 10
Doesn’t Understand The Custom Part Of Customer, Part 9
Doesn’t Understand The Custom Part Of Customer, Part 8

(Years ago I heard classmates talk about a prank where you’d go to a burger shop and order a cheeseburger without cheese and have fun without how flustered the cashier becomes. A few years later, I am working as a cashier at a burger shop and a group of teenagers walks in.)

Teenager: *the rest of group tries to stifle some giggling* “I’d like a cheeseburger with extra bacon, without bacon, without cheese.”

Me: *genuinely deadpan* “So, a cheeseburger with extra bacon, without bacon, without cheese?”

Teenager: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I enter exactly that, because extra bacon causes the price to go up, but the instruction to not remove bacon does not lower the price again.)

Me: “Your food will be ready in a moment.”

Teenager: “So, a cheeseburger with extra bacon, without bacon, without cheese?”

Me: “That is what you ordered, isn’t it?”

(Not sure if there is anything to learn from this story, but I hope the “prank” was worth the fifty cents.)

(We sell, and provide service for, wristwatches. A man who appears to be in his mid-thirties comes in to our shop with a wristwatch which he has not bought here, but is in all respects a perfectly normal, conventional wristwatch — that is to say the crown is pulled out one click to adjust the date, and one click more to adjust the time.)

Customer: “There’s something wrong with this watch!”

Me: “Okay, let’s take a look at it. What’s the problem?”

Customer: “The date changes in the middle of the day instead of overnight.”

Me: “Right. Sounds like if we advance it twelve hours, we should have sorted it out.”

Customer: “I don’t know how to do that; it’s too complicated. You’re the expert; I don’t understand these things.”

Me: “It’s quite simple. If you pull the crown out all the way, like this—” *showing him* “—then we just wind it on twelve hours.”

Customer: “I don’t understand. This is too technical.”

Me: “Well, the hour hand passes the twelve twice a day — at midday and midnight — but the date only changes once a day. If it changes at midday, it means that it has just got twelve hours out of sync. There’s nothing actually wrong with the watch.”

Customer: “This is all too complicated. You’re the watchmaker; you understand these things.”

Me: “It’s okay. I’ve set it right now. It shouldn’t give you any more trouble.”

Customer: “Have you set the right time? Because it has been running an hour slow these last few weeks.”

(I hadn’t actually looked at the watch too closely, but it suddenly dawned on me that he probably hadn’t advanced it an hour after the clocks went forward a couple of months ago. I didn’t mention this to him, however, as it would probably also have been too complicated.)

(This story takes place after the store I work at has been upgraded to a bigger store. I am stocking the shelves with a coworker when a gentleman approaches me with the store leaflet in his hand.)

Customer: “Hi, I am looking for [Soy Sauce Brand].”

Me: “I am terribly sorry, sir, but it seems like we haven’t got that in stock at our store. I am sure there is another store that will have it in stock, though. Should I check for you?”

Customer: “What do you mean you haven’t gotten it in stock? You are supposed to have it in stock!”

Me: “Unfortunately, not all stores get the same items, sir.”

(In Denmark, we have a countrywide organisation who deals with complaints from customers, something everyone is aware of. He then decides to say the following.)

Customer: “This is misleading advertising. I am going to complain to [Complaint Agency], and everyone will know that you scam people.”

Me: “You are welcome to do that, but it clearly says on the leaflet that not all stores carry certain items.”

Customer: “No, it doesn’t. I have read it several times, and nowhere does it say that.”

(I have had enough. I take my own leaflet from my back pocket, turn to the very last page, and point it out to the customer. Sure enough, it says, “Not all stores carry all the items displayed in this leaflet.” The customer turns purple-ish red, turns around on the spot, and leaves in a hurry.)

Coworker: “Did that really just happen?”

Me: “Yep. Some people just will not read the entire leaflet.”

(I work in a small, local grocery store. I’m at the checkout, where I also handle lottery ticket sale and the small bakery section we have. It’s around Easter, and there is a glass display with cakes and the like. Customers usually decide what to buy whilst waiting in line. On this day, there are many people, and I’m handling them as fast as possible, but it still takes some time. A woman is in the line and is looking at the display. She has a boy around the age of seven with her, who is really more interested in the cakes. When she’s third in line, the kid suddenly speaks up.)

Boy: “Mommy, I want that one.”

(The woman can barely be bothered to look down, upon which she looks at a giant cream puff cake with brown icing on it. It’s larger than the kid’s head. It’s aptly named ”Easter Bomb,” and is identical to our ”Christmas Bomb” we had at Christmas, only this one has brown icing on it instead of white, with a lot of colourful sprinkles.)

Woman: “No.”

Boy: “But I want one!”

Woman: “You can’t eat one on your own.”

Boy: “You don’t know that.”

(He looks downright offended by now. It’s finally their turn, and they have A LOT of stuff. I ring them up, and it takes several minutes. All the while, the boy is getting more and more aggressive about the cake, and the mother ignores him completely.)

Me: “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

Woman: *thinking* “Hmm, have you tasted the large cake?”

Me: “The Easter Bomb? Well, no, but I can tell you what’s in it. It’s a cream puff cake—”

Woman: *cutting me off* “If you haven’t tasted it, just never mind, then!”

Me: “Oh… Well, are you sure? It’s really just cream-filled and…”

Woman: *cutting me off again* ”Well, it looks like the one you had on Christmas, which I only bought once; it was terrible! I need to know if this one is better!”

Me: “Oh, you tasted that one? Well, you’re in luck, then; it’s actually—”

(Suddenly, the kid starts screaming that he wants cake, and that he NEVER gets to have any sweets at all, which I can tell is not true as the woman has bought several items of children’s candy.)

Woman: “Honey, I have just bought you…”

Boy: “NO! NO! NO, NO, NO! I WANT THE CAKE! THE CAKE! THE CAKE! THE CAKE!”

(The boy sprints back to the display, pushing other customers along the way. Neither of them says anything, and he starts pounding on the glass.)

Me: “Please stop that.”

(The kid doesn’t listen, and doesn’t care at all. The woman is showing no sign of actually doing anything about this, so I ask him repeatedly to stop.)

Woman: “[Boy], calm down; I’ll buy the cake.”

(The boy instantly stops and looks at his mom with the fury of a thousand suns.)

Boy: “You better.”

Woman: “And an Easter Bomb, please.”

(I hate when brats get their will, but knowing that it’s identical to the Christmas Bomb, I pack one for them and ring them up.)

Me: “It will be [total].”

(The woman pays whilst the son just stares at her in anger. When they’re done, and I finally get to the next customer, the son takes the bag with the cake in it and squeezes it. It’s visible that the cake is being ruined.)

Woman: “Sweetheart, no, be careful. You’ll ruin the cake, okay?”

Boy: “IT’S MY CAKE! MY CAKE! I CAN DO WITH IT LIKE I WANT TO!”

(Just as they walk out the door, I see the boy open the bag and find the cake totally smashed.)

Boy: “MOMMY, THE MEAN LADY RUINED MY CAKE! BUY ME A NEW CAKE!”

(The last I hear is the woman saying:)

Woman: “No, that’s your cake, and that’s what you get for being a brat.”

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