My friend works for a very huge global conglomerate in management and travels around the US a lot. However, his house is in the suburbs of a famous college town in Texas.

He was out of town for the whole last week and came back yesterday evening. Once at the airport, his colleague and friend picked him up as a favor to drop him off at home. When they were almost home, [Friend] realised his fridge was near empty and he needed some food, so they stopped by a gas station to get some frozen foods and some small snacks.

[Friend] is always dressed sharp. ALWAYS. It’s how he was taught since he was a kid. He was royalty. Literally. His name is on my country’s list of people with royal lineage. So, he is always clean, but he’s a very, very, very nice guy unless you piss him off.

[Friend] and his friend went into the store and got some stuff. [Friend] was carrying a laptop case in his hand, dressed in a suit. There was a guy behind the counter who looked so bored, [Friend] was sure he would rather go back home to play on his laptop instead of being on his phone.

A woman came up to [Friend].

Woman: “Where can I find [Drink]? I usually buy it here, but I can’t find any today.”

Friend: *Confused* “I am sorry, what? I don’t know. I don’t come here usually, so I don’t know where it is.”

Woman: “Ugh, another lazy college student. You are getting paid to help me. Just do your job.”

She assumed he was a part-timer at the store… working in a suit, holding his laptop bag and shopping cart.

My friend now understood what was happening.

Friend: “Sorry, I don’t work here. I am also here to shop. There’s a guy behind the counter; maybe he can help.”

Woman: “Help me now. I know you need this job, so don’t force me to call your manager and get you fired. Stop being lazy.”

[Friend], now thinking maybe his mask made it hard for her to understand, pulled his mask down a bit and said a little loudly:

Friend: “Ma’am, I don’t work here. I am also shopping. I had a long flight, and I am tired. Please leave me alone.”

Woman: “You brown guys are always lazy. I am asking you for the last time before I call your manager to get you fired. Get my drinks right now.”

At this point, [Friend] was pissed, but he looked at her calmly.

Friend: *Loudly this time* “Sure, let me help you.”

Then, he looked at the assistant behind the counter and called out LOUDLY.

Friend: “HEY, DUDE! CAN YOU COME HERE? THIS LADY NEEDS SOME HELP SHOPPING, BUT I THINK SHE HAS SOME PROBLEMS WITH HEARING AND SIGHT! SHE THINKS I WORK HERE AND CAN’T SEEM TO HEAR EVEN WHEN I EXPLAINED THAT I DON’T MULTIPLE TIMES.”

Then, he looked at the woman.

Friend: *Loudly* “Don’t worry. Someone will help you so that you won’t trip and fall.”

The woman was red in face. She just looked at [Friend] angrily and walked away.

The bored shop assistant didn’t even know what had happened. And while all this was happening, it seems [Friend]’s colleague actually paid for a drink and came back running and was enjoying the show while sipping his drink. He laughed the whole way home.

I have a tendency to come across the most random trivia without any intention to seek it out. I often just let this information rot, partly because my long-term memory is usually garbage, but also because I’m not expecting it to be of any use to me.

I step into a gas station intending to pay for my fuel, and I overhear this conversation between a customer and the cashier. The customer is holding a high-denomination bill; the display on the till is in the single-digits, and there’s a pack of cigarettes on the counter.

Customer: “What do you mean, you won’t accept it?”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, but I don’t have enough change for that.”

Customer: “You have to take it! It’s legal tender!”

“Legal tender” is one of those random trivia points I’ve read about, and recently enough that it hasn’t vanished into the recesses of my memory, so I decide to intervene.

Me: “Actually, no, he doesn’t.”

Customer: “What the h*** are you talking about?”

Me: “Strictly speaking, ‘legal tender’ means that it must be accepted for debts owed, like, if you were at [Restaurant], where you pay after you eat, they have to accept it because you owe them for the meal you’re digesting. If they refuse, they risk having the whole bill legally cancelled.”

I beckon to the cigarettes on the counter.

Me: “However, you don’t owe him, or [Gas Station], anything until he gives you the product, so he can refuse to accept your bill. Strictly speaking, he can refuse to accept any bill, and demand that you pay with, I don’t know… bottle caps. And if you really want your product from him, you’ll have to do as he says.”

Customer: “But—”

Me: “Further, once you give him your bill, he owes you the correct change, and that is a debt that you must accept legal tender for, no matter which legal tender he chooses, and if you refuse to accept what he offers you, the debt is invalid. So, if you’re going to insist that he accept your massive overpayment, he is within his rights to give you a giant mountain of coins which you must accept.”

The other customer pulls out a smaller bill — why did he even try to pay with a larger bill if he had smaller ones? — and pays for his cigarettes, quickly leaving.

Me: “Gas on [pump], please.”

Cashier: “Looks like [pump] is still going. Was that true about legal tender?”

Me: “It is in the US, not a hundred percent sure about things here, but would you risk it?”

Cashier: *Laughs* “Not after that!”

Related:
She Fought The Law, And The Law Won
He Fought The Law, And The Law Won

I am female, and I am working in a service station back in the early 1970s, back when there are attendants who do all the work. I dispense the gasoline, wash windows, check (and add, when necessary) fluids like oil, windshield wiper fluid, etc.

Most guys are fine, because this isn’t exactly rocket science. However, one man drives up, sees that I am cashing out the other customer, and decides not to wait for me.

Customer: “I don’t need some woman touching my car.”

He strides over to a rack containing cans of various fluids, grabs one, puts the spout on, and upends the container into the oil reservoir. I walk over, and upon seeing what he is doing, I ask a very important question.

Me: “Sir? Why are you adding transmission fluid into your oil?”

The man stiffens, eyes going wide, even as the container gives a final glug and empties completely. Slowly, he lifts the container up and reads the label.

Customer: “Will it hurt my car?”

Me: “Well, I think you are about to find out, mister.”

Then, I made him pay for the transmission fluid.

Related:
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 19
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 18
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 17
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 16
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 15

(A young guy approaches the counter and asks to buy cigarettes.)

Me: “I’m going to need to see some ID.”

Customer: “Uh… uhm… here!” *hands me his ID*

Me: “This says you’re sixteen. I can’t sell you cigarettes.”

Customer: “Oh, come on! You should sell them to me for being honest!”

I work an overnight shift at the gas station. I have a bunch of cleaning tasks that only get done at night, so I don’t stay at the register unless there’s a customer ready to check out.

The register counter is set up as an oblong island in the middle of the sales floor. The lottery display is at the tail end, opposite of where I can easily see it, with a snack cake stand in front of it, so it’s not rare for people to stand there indecisively for a moment.

A guy who’s been browsing is ready, so I come around.

His jacket is open and, flopping about in plain sight is our largest and most expensive scratch-off ticket sticking out of his inside pocket. It wasn’t there earlier.

I ring him up.

Me: “…and the lottery ticket?”

He plays dumb but “honest”.

Me: “Sir, lottery tickets are not self-serve. That’s why the accessible side of the display bins faces the employee side, not the customer side.”

Customer: “Oh, I didn’t know.”

And then, suddenly, he didn’t have enough money on him, but he had a $50 bill outside in the car and he’d be “right back”. He went ahead and paid for the other stuff he’d brought to the register and left.

He never came back. Thankfully, I got the ticket back from him the second I pointed out they weren’t self-serve.