(I often find myself put on the self-service and scan-as-you-shop department on my own, which is incredibly frustrating in itself. When dumb people come through it only enhances my frustration. A drunk woman comes through the self-service area with a four-pack of cider.)

Customer: “Can you help me, love? I’ve never used these.” *a lie I hear on a regular basis from people who’re too drunk to remember I’ve helped them before with self-service*

Me: “With the barcode, scan the item in front of the glass and put it on the scales in the bagging area.”

Customer: “Do what?”

Me: “Scan the item with its barcode in front on the glass and put it on the scales.”

Customer: “Scan it where?”

Me: “In front of the glass.”

Customer: “Then what?”

Me: “Put it on the scales.”

Customer: “How do I scan it?”

Me: *getting more frustrated* “With the barcode.”

Customer: “Where?”

Me: “In front of the glass panel.”

Customer: “Where’s the barcode?”

(Totally pissed, I speak in an angry tone and poke her cans of cider hard with my finger at the barcode.)

Me: “It’s there!”

Customer: *looks at me like I’ve just kicked her mother* “All right. I’m not thick.”

Me: “Could’ve fooled me.”

(I’m on the shop floor, helping customers find items they’re looking for.)

Customer: “I’m looking for negro-coloured tile grout.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: *takes out her phone to show me a photo of the label* “See?”

Me: “Um…” *deciding against mentioning the meaning in English* “That’s Spanish for black.”

Customer: “Really?”

Me: “Yes, I can assure you that it means black.”

(I find what she’s looking for and send her on her way, before slipping to the manager’s desk in the back to laugh.)

Assistant Manager: “What’s so funny?”

(I tell her what happened, bearing in mind that the manager is a woman of African descent.)

Assistant Manager: “She had no idea, did she?”

Me: “Not a clue. She said it with a completely straight face.”

(I’m driving home from work having closed up the late night shift. The roads are quite clear but there is a little traffic. About halfway home while in the inside lane at just about at the speed limit I see, in my rear view mirror, a car coming up in the outside of three lanes at high speed. I quickly guess he plans to cut across all three lanes and weave through traffic and I begin to ease off. This is incredibly lucky because, while he does manage to cross all three lanes… he is sideways by the time he reaches my lane. He impacts the barrier and spins down the road ahead of me. I’m squeezing my brakes for all they have while I drive through a cloud of debris. I manage to stop around a car length away from him, and then I’m out of my car on the phone to the police right away and running to check he is okay. I see him climb out of the car, amazingly in one piece.)

Me: “Are you all right? Do you need an ambulance? I’m calling the police.”

Driver: “No, I’m fine. Don’t call the police.”

Me: “Mate… Look. You’ve left most of your car across two lanes… The police are coming.”

Driver: “No, no. It’s fine. They don’t need to come.”

(I ignore him at this stage and remain on the phone giving details to the dispatch officer. I decide to stay at the scene because my car has working lights to warn other drivers, and because I want to provide a witness statement to police. Shortly after I hang up on the call, he approaches me.)

Driver: “Could you do me a favor?”

Me: “I can try!”

Driver: “Tell them you saw me get cut off.”

(I agree to stop him trying to argue and threaten me, but I plan to tell the police EXACTLY what took place. Fortunately, the police do arrive pretty quickly. They take his statement, and from the looks both officers give as they listen, it’s clear they smell BS. The driver is breathalysed and cleared for drunk driving. One of the officers asks me to walk to my car with him to take my statement. I tell him exactly what took place and include that I was asked to lie. The officer just smiles before saying.)

Officer: “I have been to enough of these to know when someone is lying; you just confirmed exactly what I suspected.”

(He took the rest of my statement and I carried on home. I was so angry with the driver who asked me not to call the police, then asked me to lie, and didn’t seem to realise that he is lucky to be alive and lucky he didn’t kill anyone.)

(I have come into a fast food restaurant for a quick bite. There is a woman in front of me waiting in line.)

Woman: “Where is my food?”

Cashier: “Oh, I’m sorry. Have you been waiting long? I’ve just come on.”

Woman: “Yes. I have been waiting forever!”

Cashier: “Do you have an order number? Maybe just tell me your order and I’ll find it.”

Woman: “You mean I have to order?!”

Cashier: *taken aback* “Yes. How else would we know what you want?”

Woman: “That’s ridiculous. I’m the Mayor’s PA. You should know what I want!”

Cashier: *dumbfounded*

Me: “Actually, you aren’t [Mayor]’s PA, because my grandmother has that honour.”

Woman: “I have no idea who that is! I’m the PA for the Mayor in [Town].”

(The cashier and I both look at each other, bewildered.)

Cashier: “Umm, where is that, exactly?”

Woman: “It’s in Norfolk.”

(We are literally on the Welsh border here, so the woman was talking about a town on the other side of the country. The cashier was literally speechless. After a few seconds the woman screamed that they were all incompetent and stormed out.)

(I am working in the box office, doing phone sales. I help a dithering customer by choosing the best available seats for their choice of show.)

Me: “So, your seats are dead centre.”

Customer: “Is that roughly in the middle?”