(I work in a department store’s shoe department. We have a display pair of shoes out on the sales floors for customers to see and we have the boxes for the shoes stored in our stockroom. On this day we have received a shipment of a couple dozen new styles of boots for the fall that I, since I am the only one scheduled on this busy day in the department, have not made displays for yet.)

Me: *notices a woman looking at some of the boots with an unhappy expression and goes up to her* “Hello, ma’am. Are you finding everything you are looking for today, or do you need any help?”

Customer: “Yes. I am looking for a tall, black leather boot that is on the plain side and I’d prefer it to be more dressy. I will be wearing it with leggings so I want it to be more form-fitted to my legs, but I can’t seem to find one like that here or anywhere!”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, we did get a shipment of new styles in this morning. Due to us being on the busy side I haven’t had a chance to put them on display yet, but I think they would be exactly what you are looking for. Would you like me to bring them out for you?”

(She nods and tells me the size. I go, pull them from the stock room, and show them to her.)

Customer: “Oh, my God! Those look like exactly what I want!”

(The rest of the interaction goes on with her trying on the shoes and talking about how perfect they would be with all her outfits. It goes very smoothly up until I go to check her out.)

Me: “So these boots are currently on sale for $79.99. I know the price is up there but [Coupon A] would take off 20%, [Coupon B] would take off 30%, and [Coupon C], if you add your $20 top you have in your cart, will take $50 off your entire purchase.”

Customer: *suddenly very agitated* “These boots shouldn’t be coming up for 80 bucks! They should be free!”

Me: *confused* “What do you mean they should be free?”

Customer: *rolling her eyes, with a mocking tone* “They don’t have a display with the price or tickets on them! They are not marked any price. That means they should be free!”

Me: “No, they do not have the price or ticket marking the price. But the ticket does not determine the price of the boots. Our system does, using the barcode on the box.” *points to the barcode with UPC on box* “That is why they are coming up about $80.”

(The customer snatches the box of boots and holds them to her body, gives me a death glare, and starts shouting.)

Customer: “I don’t care what your machine says! They should be free because they aren’t marked the price! Either you give them to me for free or I’m leaving!”

Me: *snatching the box back* “Well, I hope you have a great rest of the day, then!”

(I turned to return the boots to my stockroom. The woman just stood there in stunned silence with her mouth open. After a second she huffed and stomped away, never to be seen in shoes again.)

Customer: “Hi, I have a photo order for [My Name].”

Me: “Okay!”

(I find her order and scan it. She then quickly puts it in her cart.)

Customer: “All right! Thanks!” *starting to leave*

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, you have to pay for them back here.”

Customer: “What?”

(I point to the sign on the counter that reads, “All photo orders must be paid for at the photo counter.” This is a relatively new rule.)

Customer: “That’s ridiculous! I didn’t have to buy them here last week!”

Me: “I’m sorry, the rule was put into place a month ago. It’s to prevent theft. A lot of people have walked out the door without paying for their photos.”

Customer: “I don’t want to have to swipe my card twice! This is ridiculous!”

Me: “I’m really sorry.” *noticing she picked up prescriptions* “But, it’s the same thing with our pharmacy. When I started working here, you could pay for them at checkout, but because of too much theft, now you have to pay for them at their counter.”

Customer: “But still!”

(This happens everyday. It’s been over three months since they enacted the rule and every single day, someone gets mad at me that they have to buy their photos at our counter.)

(I work in a store in a mall. During a regular day we open at 9:30, before the rest of the mall. On holidays, we open at 10:00 am with the rest of the mall. It is New Year’s Day. I am getting the front area of the store ready for the day at least an hour before we open. As it gets closer to our regular time of opening, people start crowding around the doors waiting to get in. A few minutes after our regular open time, a customer starts pounding on the door. I go to a small door to see what the customer wants.)

Me: “Hello. Is there a problem?”

Customer: “What the h***, lady? Why aren’t you open yet? You are supposed to be open!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we don’t open until 10:00 this morning.”

Customer: “No, you open at 9:30! Open the door so I can go inside already.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t open at 9:30 today—”

Customer: *cutting me off* “Yes, you do. I can read your store hours! It’s posted right there!” *points at the sign*

Me: “Yes, it says our holiday hours are 10:00 am to 6:00 pm.”

Customer: “It’s not a holiday. What are you talking about? Just open the store; I have places to be.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s a holiday today, and I can’t open the store until 10:00 am. We don’t have the staff scheduled until 10:00 am to run the store. Right now it’s just me and one other person. I am very sorry, but I need to go back inside to finish my work before we open.”

Customer: “But you are supposed to be open now!”

Me: “We will be open in 15 minutes. I am sorry. I really have to go now.”

(Fast forward to 10:00 am:)

Customer: “About time you guys opened! I can’t believe you guys think that it’s a holiday today!”

(The customer continues to complain and be frustrated and angry with me and the entire staff the entire time she is in the store.)

Customer: *leaving the store* “IT’S NOT A HOLIDAY!”

(I am in working in a women’s clothing shop and overhear this exchange between a mother and her young daughter as they are shopping. The daughter picks up a brightly-coloured top, which happened to be on the floor, and shows it to her mother.)

Daughter: “What about this one, Mom? I think it would look go on you.”

Mom: “No! It’s ugly; put it back!”

(The daughter, obviously sad her mom didn’t like her choice, goes to hang the shirt back on the rack. The mom rips it out of her hand and dumps it on the floor.)

Mom: “Did you find it on the rack?”

Daughter: *even more distraught than before* “Well, no…”

Mom: “You put it back where you found it. They have staff to clean up the mess!”

(She grabbed the daughter’s hand and pulled her away from me, as I got called to help as a cashier. I wanted to go to the girl and pick up the shirt and thank her for trying to help keep the store clean.)

(I’m the idiot in this story. I was sent to buy a number of gift cards from our local department store to give out to employees found to be doing good work on our project. My dad works for the same company and has sent me to purchase the gift cards with his corporate Visa.)

Cashier: “Hi, how can I help you today?”

Me: “Hi there. Can I please have ten gift cards with $100 each on them?”

Cashier: “Sure, no problem.” *fills the cards and scans them through* “That will be $1000.”

Me: “Visa, please.”

(I hand over my dad’s corporate card, and she processes the transaction. The gift cards have been paid for.)

Cashier: “Do you have another piece of ID on you? With a value this high, I need to verify the signature on the credit card.”

Me: “Oh, the signature won’t match. It’s my dad’s corporate card; he sent me to pick up these gift cards.”

Cashier: “Oh, okay, well, do you have some ID on you to verify identity?”

Me: *patting pockets, suddenly realising I left work without my wallet* “I’m so sorry. I seem to have left my wallet at work in my rush to get here.”

Cashier: *growing increasingly suspicious* “I see. I just need to call a manager.”

(I begin frantically trying to reach my dad to have him verify the use of the card — though it won’t do much good with me not having any ID — but he is unreachable. The cashier returns with her manager.)

Me: “I’m so sorry. I realise this probably looks pretty sketchy.”

Manager: “I’m going to have to hold the gift cards. I can’t let you leave with them knowing that this is not your credit card, and you have no way to prove that you have authority to use it.”

Me: “I understand. Let me try to get in touch with my manager who may be able to help or can perhaps find my dad.”

(Meanwhile, the bank associated with the credit card has phoned the department store and informed them that the card has been frozen due to unusual activity. My dad rarely uses his card, and it has coincidentally been used twice already that day so a third transaction seems suspicious to the bank. I get in touch with my manager on my cell phone.)

Me: “This is a mess; I can’t leave with the gift cards because I admitted it’s not my credit card that I paid with and I have no ID.”

My Manager: “Can you see the gift cards?”

Me: “Yes. Why?”

My Manager: “Are you near a door?”

Me: “Yes. Where are you going with this?”

My Manager: “GRAB THEM AND RUN!”

Me: “WHAT?!”

My Manager: “I’m kidding. I’ll try to find your Dad.”

(The department store manager has asked me to speak with the representative from the bank that’s frozen the card.)

Bank Rep: “So, I’m just going to explain this how it sounds to me, and you tell me what you think. You’ve shown up at this store to buy $1000 worth of gift cards, with someone else’s credit card. You have no proof that you are authorised to use this card. You have no ID, so even if you did have some kind of permission slip to use the card, the store can’t verify that it’s you who has permission. You’ve said it’s your dad’s card, but you can’t reach him… and there have already been three transactions on this card today which flag it as suspicious, regardless if you were legitimately allowed to use the card.”

Me: “Yeah. I see how that looks.”

(My dad finally called me back and spoke with the bank, as well as the department store. They agreed to hold the gift cards for him to come pick up later. I made sure I was with him when he came in, with my ID, to show the store manager. She was a good sport, and completely fair in how she treated the situation; it did look like I was trying to steal!)