When my dad was about eighteen, he worked for a gardening center in Chicago. Every night, my dad’s job was to close up and walk the money from the registers to the owner’s house.

One night, right before closing, a guy came in and pulled a gun out, demanding all the money in the register. Dad was the only one there, so with a gun in his face, he opened the register and gave the guy like $60. The dude obviously took the cash and ran off, and Dad, being the calm guy he is, just shook it off and locked up.

He still had to go to the owner’s house, so he did, and he explained to the owner that they had been robbed.

Owner: *Worried* “How much money did we lose?”

Dad: “It was about $60.”

The owner was pretty relieved because, obviously, he expected to have had more money stolen.

Owner: “That’s all we made today?”

Dad: “No! Here’s your $3,000.”

Since Dad’s job was to walk the money to the owner’s house every night, he had already cleared out most of the register and put the money in his jacket pocket, only leaving some extra cash in the register in case someone came in last minute and he needed change. So, Dad stood there with a gun pointed at him and $3,000 hidden in his pocket and gave the guy with the gun $60 because he asked for the money in the register.

I work at a plant nursery, and we sell tomatoes and all sorts of vegetables. We label every plant so that the people know what they’re buying, but customers take the tags out to read them and never put them back. They either fall off or get blown by the wind.

The tomato section is a mess — missing plants in the packs, missing tags, etc. An old man is digging through the tomatoes and turns to me.

Man: “How am I supposed to know what I’m buying when it doesn’t say what it is?”

Me: “We label everything, but people take the tags out and never put them back.”

A lady who’s also digging through the tomatoes speaks up.

Lady: “When you say ‘people’, you mean customers?”

Me: “Yes.”

Lady: “You shouldn’t blame customers for your mistakes. You should speak nicer of customers; they give you a job. Customers bring the money in, and without them, you wouldn’t have a paycheck. You should really reconsider saying what you said.”

Okay. I guess it’s my fault that customers destroy all the tomatoes and the peppers even though we label everything.

Continuing the great line of stories here about terrifying Scottish women, I am out shopping with my grandmother at the garden center to help her pick some nice plants for her garden.

My grandmother is a lovely woman to lovely people, but absolutely brutal to anyone who would cross her and those she loves. She once said to a classmate of her grandson who was bullying him for being gay that he was just jealous and that “his only chance of getting laid was to crawl up a chicken’s a*se and wait.” Do NOT p*ss her off.

We are looking at some plants that require less maintenance (as she is getting on in years, but like all Scottish women will outlive us all) and we overhear a customer ranting at a poor retail worker.

Customer: “No, you idiot! I told you I wanted succulents! Succulents! Stop wasting my time with these cactus!”

Clerk: “Sorry, sir, like I explained we don’t have any succulents in stock at the moment.”

Customer: “Then you’re useless as well as stupid, aren’t you?”

That’s it. Grandma has engaged.

Grandma: “Haud yer wheesht you f***in’ tube!” *Translation: “Shut up you f****** idiot!”*

Customer: “F*** off you old crone!”

Grandma: “I might not be an expert on cactuses, but I know a prick when I see one.”

The manager has arrived because of the commotion. The customer notices.

Customer: “Are you going to let her speak to me like that?!”

My manager takes one look at my grandmother and then back at the customer.

Manager: “Sir, I think I am going to let her speak however she wants.”

Customer: “Useless! The lot of you!”

The customer storms off and my manager turns to my grandmother.

Manager: “That was amazing madam! But for the record, the plural of cactus is cacti.”

Grandma just stares at the manager with the dead eyes of a great white shark.

Manager: “…cactuses can also work!”

Old Lady: “I’ll take three.”

Related:
Never Pick A Fight With An Old Scottish Woman
Tell Me You’re In Scotland Without Telling Me You’re In Scotland
Nothin’ Like A Good Old Existential Meltdown

I used to work at a landscape supply store during college. I sold bricks to people. One customer ordered 1,200 square feet of red bricks — a pretty standard order for a large-sized driveway. I didn’t think anything of it when I put the order through.

A week later, I got a call from the same customer, who was irate.

Customer: “You’ve sent me the wrong bricks!”

I started asking her a few questions about what she was talking about, and after a few minutes of questioning, I finally got it out of her.

Customer: “The bricks are the wrong colour!”

Me: “What colour have you received?”

Customer: “Red!”

Me: “Well, that appears to be what you ordered.”

Customer: “Yes, but these ones are lighter colour than the ones I ordered!”

Then, I remembered:

Me: “Did you come down here when it was raining by any chance?”

The woman had no idea that concrete looks darker when it is wet.

I work at a store that sells peat moss, soil, and other gardening products. An older lady comes up to the customer service desk.

Customer: “I’d like to return some soil.”

Me: “Okay. Do you have it with you?”

Customer: “No, it’s on my lawn. It didn’t work!”

I just look at her for a moment.

Me: “Um… I’m sorry, but we can’t return that.”