I’m a self-checkout attendant in a grocery store. A customer needs an ID check for a $20 bottle of gin, and we make small talk as I do the check.

Customer: “I know I shouldn’t be spending this much; my wife is going to be mad…”

Me: “If cost is an issue, there’s a mini-bar display right behind you. Every bottle is only one dollar, so it’s a lot easier to fit into a budget.”

He turns around and just about lights up upon seeing the display: a rolling cart with about twelve different bins for different kinds of tiny bottles of alcohol, plus tiny cardboard carriers in case a customer wants to make their own $6 six-pack.

Customer: “That’s amazing! How long has that been there?”

Me: “A few months now. They put it up in an attempt to entice the college crowd but, well, half of them can’t drink.”

He didn’t buy any mini-bottles, but he swore that he would next time. I’m not sure if I saved his finances or enabled an alcoholic.

This story reminded me of my first Christmas season at my old grocery store. We closed early on Christmas Eve (6:00 pm instead of 11:00 pm), and a guy came through my line about fifteen minutes before we closed. I did my standard greeting.

Me: “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

Customer: *Snappy* “No! You’re out of eggnog! How can you be out of eggnog on Christmas Eve?!”

Because IT’S CHRISTMAS EVE, dude. Everyone else in the greater Portland metro area has been buying eggnog in bulk for the last few days.

Related:
Say That Again, But Slower

A customer is checking out with some cat food.

Customer: “I wanna price match that.”

Me: “Sure thing! Can I see the ad or website?”

Customer: “I don’t have that.”

Me: “That’s okay, you can pull it up on your phone real quick if you need to.”

Customer: “I have a flip phone; can’t do that.”

Me: “…okay, well I need to see the price you want to match.”

Customer: “Just call [Competitor] and they’ll tell you.”

Me: “Uh….no? I’m not calling a competitor’s store while these customers behind you in line are waiting.”

Customer: “NO! CALL THEM! I WANT MY PRICE MATCH!”

No, I did not call. Yes, my manager had to get involved. He was trying to price match three cans of cat food worth $0.75 each and they weren’t even cheaper at the other store anyway – my manager eventually looked it up.

Related:
The Price-Match Catch

I am waiting to be served at the service desk of a major supermarket in a suburb known for drug problems, crime, and s***ty people in general. This store only has a handful of trolleys, and today, there are none in the bays. The cashier is a young woman of eighteen or nineteen.

The cashier has just started to serve me when I’m pushed out of the way.

Customer: “Why aren’t there any trolleys?”

Cashier: “Ma’am, please don’t touch other customers, and wait your turn.“

Customer: *Now yelling* “F*** THE OTHER CUSTOMERS! WHY ARE THERE NO TROLLEYS?“

Cashier: “Customers are using them?“

Customer: “THIS IS F****** RIDICULOUS! WHY ARE THERE NO TROLLEYS?”

I’ve had a long day at work and just want to do my return and go home, so I step in.

Me: “Because some idiots take them away from the shop and don’t return them.”

Customer: *Turning to me* “WHO THE F*** ASKED YOU?”

Me: “Well, considering you literally pushed your way into my conversation and are harassing a poor worker who has no control over how many trolleys there are, you did. Now, shut the f*** and use a basket like anyone with half a brain. Just f*** off and let the five actual customers here get served, or the security guard there can call the cops and I’ll press charges for assault. Take your pick.

Customer: “F*** YOU, YOU FAT—”

Me: *To the approaching security guard* “Please call the cops. This woman just… Oh, look at that; she ran away.”

I work at a large grocery store that’s open twenty-four hours a day. Customer traffic usually dies out around eleven at night, leaving us to wander the store, restock, take inventory, and clean.

This particular night, I am on the one register we keep open. It’s getting near what we call the “pick-up” where activity starts to increase, and suddenly, every customer in the store files into my line at once, a total of eight people.

I process the first woman who is paying for a number of groceries with cash, and a young man at the very back of the line suddenly calls forward.

Irate Customer: “Hurry the f*** up!”

The line as a whole turns to look at him in a mixture of confusion and disgust.

Irate Customer: “Who the f*** uses cash? There are eight f****** people in line, and this lady is going to keep us all here using f****** cash in 2024? We have places to go, lady!”

What follows is the most delightful act of unspoken malice I’ve witnessed out of a group of people. Slowly, everyone in line puts away their cards, and once the first woman leaves, every person after her conducts a cash transaction.

The customer who yelled at the first woman grows more and more frustrated, but he is forced to wait because all of the other registers are closed. He throws random insults at the backs of each customer, pacing and walking around in circles in the queue.

The best part is when I get to the man right before him. After I scan and bag all of his items, he smiles and winks at me, pulling something out of his pocket.

Nice Customer: “Do you still take personal checks?”

Me: “We do!”

Nice Customer: “Okay. Who do I make it out to?”

Irate Customer: “WHAT THE F***?!

At this point, he throws the packet of sandwich meat and the soda he is carrying on the floor and storms out of the store. The nice customer and I watch in amusement as he walks past the woman the irate man originally yelled at; she stayed to watch the spectacle, having noticed what was happening. She gives him a wide smile as he forces our sliding doors open by hand and exits.

The man laughs as he pulls out a debit card and taps it on the reader.

Me: “Have a nice day!” 

Nice Customer: “Already am.”