(A customer is yelling and swearing at the new cashier, insisting that the amount of gas he put in his car wasn’t the amount he was charged. The cashier is getting a little frazzled.)

Me: “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Customer: “This d*** store gave me less gas than I paid for! The pump is wrong!”

Me: “So, wait. You mean that you bought a pre-set amount of gas, pumped it, and you think the pump gave you the wrong amount?”

Customer: “Yes! My tank should be full, and it’s not!”

Me: “Sir, those gas pumps are federally regulated. I happen to know—for a fact—that you actually get slightly more than you pay for, just so this sort of thing doesn’t happen.”

Customer: “That’s stupid; this is none of your business, b****!”

(He turns to the cashier.)

Customer: “I want to speak to your manager!”

Cashier: “Sir, he’s in Puerto Rico.”

Customer: “Well, I need to talk to him now!”

Cashier: “From Puerto Rico?”

Customer: “Yes, you d*** b****!”

Me: “[Cashier], don’t call him.”

Customer: “What the h*** do you think you’re doing? I said call him!”

Me: “Well, sir, she could call him. But I really doubt he’d be willing to help you after you cussed out his employee and his daughter.”

(The customer storms out and returns a few minutes later. I’m about to threaten to call the police, when he passes the cashier a $20 bill.)

Customer: “I, uh, forgot to pump it, sorry.”

(One of our regular customers is a man in his 60s. He comes in every day for cigarettes or coffee.)

Regular: “I need to use your bathroom.”

Me: “Sure, no problem.”

(He heads to the back and enters the bathroom. I help some customers. A few minutes later he comes out.)

Regular: “You know, I had to go poo. I guess I wasn’t quite fast enough; I pulled down my pants and it just came out. I got half of it in my underwear, and caught some in my hands.”

(There is a long, awfully awkward silence between my coworker and I.)

Regular: “Well, I’ll see you later!

(He leaves.)

Coworker: “Don’t worry about cleaning the bathroom; you’re new. I’ll do it.”

(My coworker goes to clean the bathroom; I can hear him moaning.)

Coworker: “Eww! He got his mess in the sink! How could he do that? The sink is FOUR FEET away from the toilet!”

(It is over 90 degrees outside. A customer comes in to buy an ice cream. He then goes into the bar across the road, and returns over an hour later.)

Customer: “I need to exchange this ice cream.”

Me: “Why?”

Customer: “I just bought it a minute ago, and it’s melted!”

Me: “You were here over an hour ago. I can’t exchange it for you.”

Customer: “You d*** well better exchange it! It wasn’t melted when I bought it! It’s not my fault I left it in my car when I went to the bar!”

Me: “I’m sorry. I can’t exchange it for you; it’s not our fault.”

Customer: “I just bought it! Give me my d*** money! You know what? I have an even better idea!”

(The customer slams the melted ice cream on the counter, and grabs a new one from the cooler.)

Customer: “Give me a f****** bag that will prevent this from melting!”

Me: “It’ll be [price] for the ice cream, and I don’t think those exist.”

Customer: “I’m not paying for this! You are f****** giving it to me for free, b****!”

Me: “Not happening. I’ll be more then happy to call the owner for you.”

Customer: “Get his fat ugly a** down here! I’ll have you fired for this!”

(I step back to call for the owner.)

Me: “DAD!”

(My 6’3″, 300-pound dad walks out from the back room.)

Dad: “What’s the problem?”

Customer: * grabs the melted ice cream and runs out of the door*

(In South Africa, we have petroleum made for older cars called “Lead Replacement Petrol,” or LRP for short. My grandmother and I pull into the gas station.)

Attendant: “Morning! What can I get you today?”

Grandmother: “Can I get R50.00’s worth of LSD, please?”

(I was speechless from laughing, but the station attendant didn’t even notice and carries on as normal. He must get that a lot!)

This story is part of the South Africa Roundup!

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(My brother works at a gas station in the next town over, and his boss is always asking him to come in for extra hours at the most unreasonable times. In this story, Superstorm Nemo has just hit, and we live on a dead-end street which hasn’t been plowed yet. My brother gets a phone call from his boss.)

My Brother: “Hello?”

Boss: “Can you come in?”

My Brother: “There’s three feet of snow outside and most of the roads are closed. My car is completely buried.”

Boss: “Well, can you have your father bring you in?”

(Our father works with the state Department of Transportation, and as such has been out since last night on the highway.)

My Brother: “So…you want me to call my dad at work and have him come all the way back down here, plow our street, then drive me up there?”

Boss: “Yes! What’s so hard about that?”

(The worst part? The boss and several other employees all live practically within walking distance of the place!)