I didn’t have glasses until my twenties. There’s a whole saga behind it, but now that I have them, I’ve found that my ability to tell ages is terrible since I don’t have the experience many others have. So, of course, this involves one of the fan-favourite restricted items: alcohol.

I’m already kind of notorious in the store for calling for more ID checks than others, but I honestly have trouble telling what age someone is. And I had a friend who grew a thick beard at fifteen who I know used that to buy underage, so I have trust issues, too.

I get a customer who is tall, lanky, and most likely of age, but then I try to see his face. Every time I do, he looks away, hiding in the shadow of a baseball cap. I try asking some vague questions, as I would do in normal transactions, to see if I can age him from his voice — things like how his day is, how he’d like his groceries packed, even if he wants boxes, bags, a wine bag for the booze, anything! He mumbles and turns away again from my searching gaze, avoiding me. I try asking him outright to look at me. No dice.

Finally, I have scanned everything, asked every reasonable question — and a few odd ones — and have only had mumbles and avoidance for my troubles. I steel myself and ask in a firm tone.

Me: “Sir, may I see your ID?”

He looks up, shocked. The face is a forty-year-old man, even to my badly trained eye. As we make this eye contact, one supervisor who’s notoriously picky walks past, and I manage to get the ID to confirm the age, with the gentleman mumbling in an unusual accent that doesn’t suggest English as a first language.

After he’s gone, maybe an hour later, the supervisor catches me.

Supervisor: “You don’t ID people who are clearly over the age!”

She absolutely would not listen to how much he’d seemed to be avoiding me before I asked for ID; it was all my fault because I couldn’t see through his hat with my X-ray vision and he wasn’t wearing a badge with his age on it.

I know he may not have understood my questions and may have been mumbling in confusion, but I still tried to be clear about needing to see his face. At least the ID question got me what I needed.

CONTENT WARNING: Child Abuse

I am the supervisor on shift today. Around seven, one of my cashiers answers the phone. I can only hear a bit of what she’s saying, but before long, she puts them on hold and comes to me, looking incredibly confused.

Cashier: “So… I have a man on the line that… said something about having punched a baby? I can’t… I don’t understand what he wants.”

Ooh, boy. I pick up the line and give my greeting, prepared for the worst.

Me: “Hi, my name is [My Name]; I’m the supervisor on shift. My cashier tells me that you… had issues with a child you hit?”

Caller: “Yeah, so, a couple of days ago, I came in and ended up punching a baby, but like, I just wanted to call and make sure I wasn’t in any trouble or whatever else, just to call and ask about it.”

At this point, I’m pretty sure he’s either lying or calling the wrong store because, even if I hadn’t been on shift, someone punching a baby is absolutely something I would have ended up hearing about.

Me: “Okay, well, I am not the person you’d need to talk to about something like this. If you’d like to call back and speak to our store manager in the morning—”

Caller: “No, I’m not calling back! I just need you to absolve me of responsibility!”

Me: “Well, like I said, I’m not the person you need to talk to. You have to speak with my store manager about the incident—”

Caller: “Aw, come on. You know how it goes! I was just in line, and this freaking kid just starts crying and the mom was standing there not doing nothing, and the kid wouldn’t shut up, so I just hit them, and that shut them up real fast, but the mom didn’t seem to care, so I just left. I just wanted to absolve myself of responsibility by calling and telling you.”

We’re fairly slow, so my cashier is listening to my half of the conversation curiously. I’m leaning closer and closer to either prank or lie.

Me: “Um… well… I am still not the person to speak to. You need to call back—”

Caller: “I am not calling back! You need to absolve me of responsibility! I called and told you, so you need to absolve me!”

I have no idea why this is his go-to phrase.

Me: “Sir, I am not the one who can do that. You need to—”

Caller: “If you hang up this phone, you absolve me of all responsibility!”

Me: “Sir, I—”

Caller: “I am absolved if you disconnect. I called and told you, which means I’m absolved!”

This continues another three or four times, with me attempting to explain and him repeating, “If you hang up, I’m absolved of all responsibility.” Eventually, I get annoyed, and we have real customers to take care of, so instead of hanging up, I just put him back on hold and tell my cashier to leave him there. If he wants to disconnect himself, he can.

My cashier starts laughing when I tell her about it.

Cashier: “You told him it wasn’t your call seven or eight times! I was counting!”

It took at least five minutes of being on hold for him to finally hang up. I still have no idea what that was about. I wrote up an incident report just in case — also to give my morning shift a bit of a laugh when they came in.

I get into the queue for the cashier at the supermarket. As I get closer to the end of the queue, I notice that there is a woman with her trolley pointed into the line. My British instincts kick in and I say to myself:

Me: “This woman is trying to jump the queue. No way.”

The person in front of me moves to a new queue, so there is the person with their stuff on the belt and this woman. So, of course, I move to the belt while this woman moves her trolley. She gives me a look of utter astonishment as I move to put my stuff on the belt, and she starts talking at me in German. Unfortunately, my German is utter pants as my work is in English, so I try saying:

Me: “The queue starts over there.” *Indicating that she needs to walk around*

This woman isn’t having that and starts ranting in German.

Me: *Politely* “My German isn’t so good.”

I turn away and put my two items on the belt. I think this will be the end of the matter and now it’s up to the person behind me. No, the woman moves her trolley before I can get behind the person in front, so while my stuff is on the belt first, she is now in front of me. She starts loading her things.

I try to move in front of her, but she is blocking the way with her trolley on one side and herself on the other. No matter; my stuff will get scanned before hers. She is muttering under her breath, clearly about me, but I just giggle. This makes her angrier.

The cashier is slightly confused when I hand over the money, but because she isn’t talking to me, I miss the amount. It turns out I looked at the wrong label, as my note isn’t enough to cover the cost, so I need a bit more cash. The woman in front of me gives a giant tut as I get some more money and receive my change while she moves forward so I can grab my things.

As I pack them into my bag, I hear:

Woman: *Very loudly* “B****!”

I turn around and give the very British response of:

Me: “Excuse me?!”

Woman: “Shut up!”

She started ranting to the cashier. I tried to explain my side of the story quickly before deciding, “I’ve got my stuff and I am wasting my time,” and walking off.

Related:
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 24
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 23
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 22
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 21
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 20

I just started my job at a grocery store. I’m nineteen and had a horrible home life growing up, so I tend to freeze up when people start yelling at me. It doesn’t help that I’m incredibly short and dainty-looking, so people think they can get away with it.

I’m serving a man who has been increasingly creepy the whole time. I don’t really know any of my coworkers yet, or I would signal someone for help. I just ignore him as best I can.

Me: “Your total is $123.45. Do you have a [Store Loyalty] card today?”

Creep: “That doesn’t sound like enough numbers for your phone number, sugar.”

Me: *Pauses* “Your total is $123.45. Is that cash or card?”

Creep: “I’m not leaving until I get that number, cutie.”

It’s pretty quiet in the store, and the other checkout operator has gone to find us a box of bags. The self-checkout attendant is too far away from me and is helping someone, so there’s really no one to call for help. I carefully hit my assist light button with my knee to not draw attention and keep repeating the man’s total. He is getting increasingly angry with me for not playing his game.

I have a manager on today that I have never worked with before, and my coworkers jokingly referred to her as The Enforcer this morning. I assumed it was because she is a bit of a hard-a** about her staff. Out of nowhere, this very tall woman appears at the end of my checkout with pink hair and a nose ring.

Manager: “Hi, [Definitely Not My Name]! I’m [Manager]. Nice to meet you!”

She says all this with the brightest smile on her face and in the sweetest voice I have ever heard coming from someone who looks like she could snap me in half with one hand. She turns to look down at my customer — she has a good inch or two on him — and her entire face drops and her eyes and voice turn to steel.

Manager: “Not my first time meeting you, though, is it, [Customer]? Do we need to have another chat?”

The creepy guy just puts his card into the reader and pays before scurrying out as quickly as he can. I am in awe.

The manager instantly switches back to her previous sweet manner.

Manager: “Sorry about that, boo. He is the absolute worst, but they won’t let me ban him. The good news is that he is petrified of me — enough that even if I’m not in the store, just ring your bell and ask them to get me as soon as he starts acting up. He usually cuts it out then. Also, I know your name is [My Real Name]; I just didn’t want him to know that. Anyway, how are you liking it here?”

I went on to find out that this woman was universally loved by almost everyone in the store for just being a ball of sunshine and laughter who was always willing to lend a hand. She also tolerated absolutely no abuse toward her staff whatsoever and would go toe to toe with the store manager for us any day of the week. She is EXACTLY who I want to be when I grow up.

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I was at the store, buying the weekly groceries for my family. Ahead of me in line to check out was a lady with a toddler in the seat of the cart. The toddler was looking around, and he happened to spot a case of cookies in my cart.

Toddler: “Look! Mama, Mama, look! Cookies!”

The lady turned and looked, then glanced up at me and gave a nasty sneer before turning back to her son.

Lady: *In a sickly sweet baby voice* “Oh, I’m so sorry, baby. I’d love to get cookies, but unlike some people, we can’t afford them. We have to save our money, unlike some people, so we can’t just get whatever we want.”

She continued in that vein as the line crept forward, even after her son had obviously lost interest and tilted his head back to stare up at some stray balloons near the ceiling. She kept going on and on, each time putting special emphasis on “some people” as she went. She finally trailed off when she got to the belt and started unloading her cart, and I hoped that would be the last of her passive-aggressive nastiness.

Unfortunately, once she’d unloaded everything and headed up to the check stand when the cashier started scanning, she immediately launched into it again.

Lady: *To the cashier* “Have you ever had to live on a budget? Some people haven’t, and it shows. They’ll just buy whatever they want without even thinking about it. Don’t you think it’s sad how some people are just so thoughtless?

The cashier didn’t say anything; she just sped up scanning until she could give the lady her total. The lady finally stopped talking once she paid, collected the last of her bags, and started pushing her cart away.

Cashier: *Quietly, once I get to the check stand* “I’m so sorry about that.”

Me: “It’s fine. Some people have just never learned manners.”

The lady, who for whatever reason had chosen to pause a short distance away from the line and just stand there, obviously stiffened, but when she turned to glare back at us, neither I nor the cashier was looking at her, so she eventually just turned and stomped off in a huff.