A couple of days ago, I was looking for bargains at our local [Grocery Store], a US chain that specializes in procuring overstock items, factory seconds, and closeout items from name brands and private-label suppliers.

I love shopping there, as one never knows what might be available on any given day, and the prices are usually much lower than what the items originally sold for.

My concentration was broken, though, when I heard a thud and the sound of falling merchandise at the end of the aisle I was shopping in. I looked up to see a woman about the same age as me (in her seventies) who had accidentally clipped a cardboard display with her cart, knocking it over and scattering bags of marshmallows down the aisle. The woman looked shocked.

Me: “Here, let me help you with that.”

I stood the display back up, and she and I corralled all the escaped bags of puffy goodness and stacked them back up like they had been. It only took us a couple of minutes. When we were done we exchanged, “Have a good day,” smiled at each other, and went our respective ways.

I didn’t think any more of it. I finished shopping and found myself standing at the back of one of the long, busy checkout lines behind several other shoppers with full carts.

Suddenly, a clerk appeared at my elbow and indicated that I should bring my cart and follow her over to one of the closed registers, where she motioned me to unload my cart. “Cool,” I thought. “They are opening up another register.” So, I went to grab the “This Lane Is Closed” sign to hand it to her.

Employee: “No, just leave that there”.

It was then that the light bulb came on in my brain. They were temporarily opening up a register just for me. This VIP treatment had to be the store’s way of thanking me for helping that lady.

That was just so cool. It still puts a smile on this old face.

I’m a cashier in a grocery store. I’m supposed to ask anyone under fifty to show ID for age-restricted purchases, but I’m terrible at guessing ages, so I tend to err on the side of caution. This combination has led to me carding two seventy-two-year-olds on separate occasions.

Old Woman: *Delighted* “Oh, why, thank you, dearie! I’m seventy-two and haven’t been carded in years! Here you go! Oh, I’m so flattered!”

Old Man: *Outraged* “ID?! I’m seventy-two, and you want my ID?! I’ve got shirts old enough to buy that beer!”

Nowadays, I tend to look more closely at men before asking them for ID because, for some reason, it ruins their day to have little old me standing behind a cash register thinking they look younger than they are.

We had a regular customer who was just unbelievably rude. Every time, she found something wrong. She was always threatening us with whatever she could think of to get her own way. We used to dread every time we saw her queuing.

One day, [Regular] started in on one of our other customers — an older lady with a walking stick — because she was taking a little while with her issue. [Regular] started b****ing behind [Old Lady]’s back.

Regular: “I have places to be! Just hurry the h*** up!”

[Old Lady] looked up at my colleague and said, in the sweetest voice:

Old Lady: “Excuse me, dear.”

Then, she turned to [Regular].

Old Lady: “My dear, I will give you a second to rethink what you’re doing and adjust your attitude before I take my stick and shove it somewhere on your person where the sun doesn’t shine.”

My coworker and I couldn’t stop laughing. [Regular] went beetroot red and rushed away, but to make it even better, she seemed to trip over her own feet and went sprawling across the floor. No one offered any assistance in helping her up.

Like many Canadians, my friend worked in a famous coffee chain named after a hockey player. These restaurants can get very busy during the peak times of the day, so patience can run a tad thin in the workers.

[Friend] lived in a small town with a high retiree population, so this coffee house gave a senior’s discount, and the seniors knew about it. It was common for them to request their discount along with their order to ensure they got it.

One day, a senior woman came in during the afternoon rush, and [Friend] greeted her as he normally did.

Friend: “How may I help you?”

Old Lady: “I want a small coffee and my senior’s discount.”

[Friend] began pouring the coffee into the cup.

Friend: “Okay, what would you like in your coffee?”

Old Lady: “I want my senior’s discount.”

Friend: “Yes, ma’am. I will give you your discount. How do you take your coffee?”

Old Lady: *Getting more demanding* “I want my senior’s discount!”

Friend: *Getting exasperated* “Ma’am, I understand. I will give you your discount, but I first need to make your coffee. What do you want in your coffee?”

Old Lady: “MY SENIOR’S DISCOUNT!”

My friend had reached his end. The senior’s discount on a small coffee worked out to be about $0.10, so he reached into the cash till, picked out a shiny new dime, dropped it into the coffee, put the lid on, handed it to the old lady, and said

Friend: “Okay, ma’am. One small coffee with the senior’s discount.”

He immediately went for a break and never came back.

As far as [Friend] could tell, the lady didn’t have any kind of mental issue; she had the full capacity of all of her functions and was just being demanding due to entitlement.

My great-grandma, while miraculously still alive, is senile and half-deaf, so we are never sure if she understands what’s going on around her at any given time. Nonetheless, we try to include her during mealtimes and such.

One day, the whole family is having breakfast together and chatting.

Brother: “[Friend] got in some kind of trouble with the cops. I’m not sure what for, but I think it was soliciting…”

Mom: “Shut it! Saying such things in front of your Nana, honestly!”

Brother: “What? She’s not even listening!”

Nana: *Suddenly yelling* “FLAT A*** AIN’T WORTH THE MONEY, HON!”

She was, in fact, listening.