(It’s the night before Mother’s Day, and around three am we get a large shipment of roses. A young customer comes in and sees the huge display, which has over 100 bouquets.)

Young Customer: “Oh, man! You’re killing me with all these flowers!”

Me: “What?”

Young Customer: “I just gotta get some!”

(He grabs a full bouquet of a dozen roses plus a single rose, and then comes up to my register.)

Young Customer: “My momma always told me that if you give a lady a rose on Mother’s Day, it’ll make her smile the whole day long; don’t even matter if she’s a mother or not. I’m gonna make 13 lucky ladies smile today!”

Me: “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

(I finish ringing him up, and he turns to leave. Suddenly, he turns around and hands me the single rose.)

Young Customer: “You’re lady number one!”

(He then ran out the door before I could think of anything to say. I have to admit, though, I really did end up smiling all day because of it!)

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Cashier: “Would you like a bag?”

Me: “No, thanks. I have my own.”

(I point to my reusable bag, which is pink.)

Cashier: “That’s too pink. I can’t use that.”

(Thinking he’s joking, I laugh.)

Cashier: “No, I really can’t use that. It’s too pink.”

(The cashier opens a plastic bag and puts my purchases in it, avoiding my own bag.)

Cashier: “It’s too pink!”

(My 14-year-old sister’s doctor has prescribed her birth control pills for the terrible cramps she gets during menstruation. She’s a little embarrassed about it and asks me to go with her instead of our parents.)

Pharmacist: “Here you are, ma’am.”

Me: “Thanks.” *to my sister* “Here, sweetie.”

Pharmacist: “Wait, she’s [sister’s name]?”

Me: “Yes. These pills are for her.”

Pharmacist: “She’s too young for those! She shouldn’t be having sex! Why would you let her? Are you her sister? You probably set a bad example for her! Shame on both of you!”

Me: “My sister is not sexually active. She was prescribed these pills because she gets terrible cramps that sometimes make it hard for her to even sit up. Even if that was the case, what business is it of yours? At least, she would’ve been taking precautions.”

(My sister mumbles something and we leave. Outside, I hug her and ask her what she said.)

My Sister: “I was going to say I have a girlfriend anyway, but I changed my mind since you said it wasn’t his business.”

(A month later, we returned to the pharmacy to buy tampons. Fortunately, we learned we weren’t the first customers to be treated that way and the pharmacist had been fired.)

(We card everyone who looks under 40 for cigarettes and alcohol. A customer comes up, who looks to be about mid-20s.)

Me: “Hi ma’am! How can I help you today?”

Customer: “I need a pack of [brand].”

(I grab the cigarettes, and keep them next to me on the counter.)

Me: “Alright, I need to see your ID, please.”

Customer: “What the f***?! Just give me the d*** cigarettes. I’m over 18.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t sell you them without seeing your ID.”

Customer: “Just give me the cigarettes. I’m in a hurry.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am; I can lose my job or worse if I don’t ID you. Please… we can get through this much quicker if you give me your ID.”

Customer: “F*** you, you b****! I want my cigarettes! I come in here all the time and have never been carded before! I demand to speak your manager!”

(I call my manager up to the front. He’s not much older than I am, and Hispanic.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “This stupid b****, who probably isn’t even old enough to sell cigarettes, won’t give me mine!”

Manager: *to me* “What does she mean?”

Me: “I asked for her ID since she looks under 40, and she refused. So, I tried to tell her—”

Customer: “You lying b****! You never asked for my ID!”

Me: “I asked for it several times, ma’am.”

Customer: “I want my cigarettes for free!”

Manager: “I can’t do that ma’am, and I’m almost positive she asked for your ID.”

Customer: “F*** you, you f***ing immigrant! I come in here all the time!”

(She continues like this for a while. My manager and I are both completely stunned.)

Manager: “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “You can’t make me!”

(She starts screaming and shaking the register. Panicked, I call the police. While waiting for them she starts to go around the store knocking things off shelves. As soon as the sirens are in the distance, she runs out of the store. Thankfully after my manager and I deal with the police report, he gave paid vacation time.)

Me: *ringing up a customer’s items* “How are you doing today?”

Customer: “That milk was supposed to be $1.79, not $1.89.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. Let me have someone run a price check on that.”

(My coworker comes over and takes the milk to check the price.)

Coworker: “He is correct; the milk is $1.79.”

Me: “Thank you.” *reduces price on milk* “Alright, sir. That’ll be $4.75.”

(The customer hands me a five dollar bill and starts walking away.)

Me: “Sir, did you want your change?!”

Customer: “Nope!” *walks off*