(I work the overnight shift alone from 10 pm to 6 am. I usually get the local cops in at the beginning of my shift, since they are starting their shift as well, and they also come by a few times a night, just to check in and say hi. Around 3 am one Sunday morning, another regular, who is shy and has a social disability, comes in to get his coffee and wait for his ride. As I’m finishing with him. two teenage boys come in.)

Me: *to regular* “Thanks for shopping at [Gas Station] and I’ll see you tomorrow.” *to teenagers* “Can I help you two with anything?”

Teenager #1: “Yeah, I’d like some cigarettes. [Brand].”

Me: “Certainly. I’ll just need to see some ID.”

Teenager #1: “I left it at the house. Can you let it slide this once? Besides, I only live right down the street.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t sell to anyone that looks under 30 without an ID. Besides, if you live right down the street, then it should be no problem to get your ID.”

Teenager #1: “C’mon, man, just let it slide this once. I can tell you my birthday. It’s [date].”

Me: “Well, sir, if that is your birthday, then you are only 16. I can’t sell the cigarettes to you, but feel free to get anything else.”

Teenager #2: “Here, I’ll get them then. I just turned 18 and I have my ID.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, but I can’t sell them to you, since I know you are buying them for your friend, who I know is underage.”

Teenager #2: “But I’m 18!”

Teenager #1: “Don’t be a d***. Nobody will notice at this time of night.”

Me: “Sorry, but it’s not worth my job.”

(The two teenagers leave, and I see them go up to my regular, who is still waiting in the parking lot, and talk to him for a minute. My regular walks back in.)

Regular: “Can I get a pack of [Cigarette Brand Teenager Asked For]?”

Me: “I actually can’t. I know you don’t smoke, and I know those boys just asked you to get them cigarettes. Tell them I’m not selling them cigarettes, and they can’t get anyone else to buy them for them.”

(My regular leaves and talks to the teens. He gets picked up around five minutes later, but the teens are still loitering. I ignore them, as there isn’t anyone else in the store or parking lot, and start to mop while the store is slow. About 20 minutes later, the teens come in and get some nachos, making a mess in the process. As they come to check out, I notice the reek of alcohol.)

Teenager #2: “I’d like these nachos.”

Me: “Certainly, sir. Can I get you anything else?”

Teenager #2: “Yeah, I’d like a pack of [Same Cigarette Brand].”

Me: “I told you 20 minutes ago that I wouldn’t sell you cigarettes. Now, you need to pay for the nachos and leave.”

(They end up grumbling, but pay for their food and leave. However, they don’t leave the parking lot, and instead hang around eating their food. I ignore them again and start making coffee. About ten minutes later, one of my older regulars shows up. He stops to talk to the boys on the way in, and then comes into the store.)

Me: “Hey, [Older Regular].”

(All the coffee is fresh, and once I finish with the trash, I can take a break and come outside and chat.)

Older Regular: “You know those boys are asking for people to buy them cigarettes, don’t you? I told them I wouldn’t, and that you knew I didn’t smoke anyway.”

Me: “Okay, well, I’ve had about enough of this.” *I go outside and talk to the teenagers.* “You guys need to leave now. You can’t loiter here, and you can’t keep harassing my customers to illegally buy you tobacco.”

Teenager #1: “Well, why don’t you make us? We ain’t doing nothing!”

Teenager #2: “Yeah, and this wouldn’t have happened if you’d been f***ing cool about it.”

(Fed up with this, I call dispatch, and explain to them about the two drunk teens. Two minutes later, I have three cop cars pull in and corner these two kids. One tries to run and is caught almost instantly. My regular and I go outside to watch.)

Cop: *also a regular* “Hey, [My Name]. These two the only ones who were bothering you?”

Me: “Yeah. So, what are you going to do to them?”

Cop: “We’ll take them down to the station and throw them in the drunk tank. We’ll call their parents once they sober up. Usually putting the fear of God in them is enough. Call us if they ever show up on your shift again!”

(My regular and I walked away laughing. It certainly made the rest of my shift more enjoyable, and the teens had a great story to tell at school Monday!)

(This happens while I am working at a gas station/truck stop over breaks in college. It is summer, 2004.)

Customer: “The pump out there won’t take my card. Fix it.”

(All pumps have cars at the moment.)

Me: “Which pump?”

(Customer points vaguely to the front window.)

Customer: “That one.”

Me: “Okay, which pump number?”

Customer: “It’s the one with the silver Chevy SUV. Get it fixed; I’m in a hurry.”

(I go to the pump console, which has a flashing notification on his pump.)

Me: “Okay, I’m pulling up the pump info right now. It takes a bit of time to load right now.”

Customer: “Hurry up, will ya?”

Me: “It’s loading.”

Coworker: *to me* “Hey, I need to cut the label off something. Do we still have those scissors?”

Me: “Let me check.”

(I start looking around the accumulated stuff around the pump console, which looks like a junk drawer.)

Customer: “Oh, you have time to help that b**** find her scissors but you can’t help a paying f****** customer? I told you I was in a hurry, but I’m f****** leaving.”

(Pump information finally loads; I hit the button to activate the speakers on all eight pumps.)

Me: “Pump seven, your card has been declined. Again, pump seven, the silver Chevy SUV, your card has been declined.”

(I work in a gas station with the option to select “pay inside” on the gas pump, which allows you to fill up first before paying. This button alerts us that someone wants to pay inside and then we are able to approve the pump to start without pre-payment.)

Customer: *walks up to counter* “Hey, if I give you my license will you turn my pump on so I can fill up?”

Me: “I don’t need your license, ma’am. If you go outside and select the ‘pay inside’ button I can start the pump for you.”

Customer: “I don’t get it. Why can’t I fill up my car and then pay inside?”

Me: “You can. I just won’t be able to turn on the pump until you hit the button.”

Customer: “But they let me do that at other gas stations all the time!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m saying when you go outside to start pumping, you just have to hit the ‘pay inside’ button before you select the fuel grade.”

Customer: “You know, whatever! I’ll just go to [Gas Station down the road] instead! This is ridiculous!”

(The customer starts to walk out door, then turns around and comes back.)

Customer: “Just put $20 on it! Whatever!” *begins to storm out again*

Me: “Miss, what pump are you at?”

Customer: *yelling, as if I can read minds and know which of many vehicles belongs to her* “Oh, my god! Five!”

(The gas station down the road she said she would go to instead is strictly pre-pay only.)

(I work overnights at a gas station. Due to a loophole in the laws of my state, the company I work for is able to shirk giving us 30-minute breaks by instead paying a yearly fine. After months of not being guaranteed a break, I decided to buy a pack of cigarettes to go on fake smoke breaks. I tucked them in my bag for later.)

Coworker #1: *barges into the kitchen* “Since when do you smoke?”

Me: “What?”

Coworker #2: *turning to me* “You smoke?!”

Coworker #1: “I saw cigarettes in her bag.”

Me: “You were SNOOPING in my bag?”

Coworker #1: “Your bag was open and I happened to glance inside. But seriously, when did you start smoking?”

Coworker #2: “Oh, my god, you better not have started smoking!”

Me: “Woah, woah. You two are hypocrites!”

(Both of them actually smoke cigarettes, one since the eighth grade.)

Coworker #2: “Just because we smoke doesn’t mean we want you to!”

Coworker #1: “Yeah, we make bad choices!”

Me: *starting to laugh* “Oh, my god. Guys, I bought them for the breaks.”

Coworker #1: “What?”

Me: “I bought them so I could go on smoke breaks. Not to actually smoke them.”

Coworker #2: “Oh, my god.”

Coworker #1: “You genius. I hate you.”

(I haven’t let them live it down, but every now and then they both ask to see the pack of cigarettes to make sure I haven’t started smoking!)

(Back in 1996, working an afternoon at the popular local convenience store with gas pumps. Gas is about $1.25 a gallon. We have multiple cars at the pumps and a line of customers waiting inside at the register to pay. A little old lady comes up…)

Old Lady: “What do I owe on pump four?”

Me: *checking the pump total* “$13.96.”

Old Lady: “That doesn’t sound right. Please make sure you’re looking at the right pump. Number four.”

Me: *checking again* “Huh, that’s weird. It’s $14.67, now.”

(My manager is organizing the shelves nearby and gives me a weird look.)

Old Lady: “That can’t be right; my tank has a hole in it and can only hold about $8 dollars of gas.”

(My manager, a 4’11” woman, LEAPS over the service counter, palming the emergency pump shutoff, races to the aisle with cat food, and shoots out the front door with a bag of kitty litter, shouting “Call the fire department!” at me and “GET AWAY FROM THE PUMPS!” to everyone outside.)

Old Lady: “So, will $8 be enough?”

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