I’m working the till at the supermarket and it’s the fourth week into lockdown. Bread is the Italians’ staple food and people have started to bake it at home, so yeast is in high demand.

Customer: “It’s like wartime! You’re out of yeast and sourdough! It’s such an encumbrance, having to queue at the bakery every day!”

Me: “I understand, madam. However, if your freezer is big enough, you could buy it in a batch and freeze it.”

The customer is all suddenly all stroppy and toffee-nosed.

Customer: “Oh, no, no, no. Because then it tastes off. Like it was underdone, you see.”

So, this is her idea of wartime, having to queue at the baker’s because reheated bread tastes “off”? I guess all those people who lived through actual wartime have been hyping their stories a lot, then.

We are three weeks into lockdown. I am stacking shelves when a grumpy old man grumbles down the aisle.

Grumpy Old Man: “This is ridiculous! You have nothing left!”

Me: “We do have lots of supplies, sir. We are limiting the quantity customers can each purchase, and we have new stock that just arrived and we’re trying to get it all out as fast as possible. If you’re looking for something specific, I can go check the back for you.”

Grumpy Old Man: “This is all an overreaction! You young people are too scared! In the Blitz, we didn’t lock down or hide at home! We walked the streets with our heads up, proud and unafraid!”

A younger man in the same aisle speaks up.

Younger Man: “The bloody bombs weren’t contagious, you f****** eejit!”

My store sells helium balloons. As a complementary service, if you purchase the balloons from us we will blow them up from you free of charge. We aren’t allowed to blow balloons up from external companies or other shops, even if the customer offers to pay.

Whenever we run out of helium, we take down all the balloons and put them behind the nearby electronics desk. It’s largely to stop customers being disappointed at not getting their purchased balloons blown up and complaining or asking for goodwill. It’s also to stop us having to refund every customer’s balloons and wasting time. A woman approaches the desk.

Customer: “Hi. Do you have any helium balloons? The stand is empty.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry but we’re out of helium so we don’t have the balloons out right now.”

Customer: “Oh. I have a helium tank at home so I don’t mind buying them and doing it at home. I really need them for tomorrow for my son’s birthday.”

Me: “Oh, well, that’s fine, then. If you follow me, I can get the box and find the balloons you like.”

We both start to walk towards where the box is kept at the desk.

Customer: “So, I’m assuming I get a discount on the balloons due to the fact you aren’t blowing them up.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can do that. Head office is very strict about our sale of balloons in relation to the helium. At the end of the day, us blowing them up is a complimentary service. I can ring a manager to double-check, I guess?”

We reach the electronics desk and she asks for a specific balloon, which I hand to her. I ring a manager who confirms what I told the customer: that we cannot discount balloons just because we’ve temporarily run out of helium. I hang up the phone and turn to the customer.

Me: “I’m sorry, but he’s confirmed that I can’t give you a discount.”

She glares at me and sighs.

Customer: “Are you sure?!”

Me: “Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry but it’s company policy. I can’t override it.”

Early on in this interaction, I felt bad for her, since it was for her toddler’s birthday party. I had planned on giving her a few of our “£1” coupons to apologise and essentially give her her discount. The coupons are generic so it wouldn’t have flagged on the system and the manager would have been none the wiser, and the woman would be happy. However, she is so insistent on the discount, I tell her twice more that there’s nothing I can do. A couple of minutes later, she hands back the balloon I’d given her.

Customer: “You know what, I’m just going to drive to [Same Supermarket the town over] and get the balloons off of them. They’ll blow it up for me. Thanks for nothing!”

With that, she walked away to purchase the rest of her shopping. I still don’t get why she made a big deal out of the helium, when she stated she had a tank at home she could use, nor why she figured driving ten minutes away to the same supermarket — therefore still giving our company money — just to have them blown up would save her any money or time!

A man comes through my line with organic eggs. I ring it up.

Customer: “That’s not the right price. These eggs should be a dollar sixty-nine.”

That is the price for the cheap eggs.

Me: “These aren’t the [Cheap Brand]; these are the organic eggs, sir.”

I call over the management because I figure it is going to get complicated. We all know it is the right price, but we go through all the motions and the manager goes to check it. While they’re double-checking the price, the customer persists.

Customer: “I know the price; they were a dollar sixty-nine. I am a mathematical genius.”

I didn’t say it, but I thought to myself, “You might be a mathematical genius, but you sure as h*** can’t read.”

I’m a cashier at a local grocery store, about to go to lunch. The head cashier comes around, turns off my light, and tells me to finish the line and go. She puts a “LANE CLOSED” sign at the end of my lane to let customers know.

Still, people line up and expect me to ring them out. I can’t tell them I’m closed or ask them to go to another line — per “the customer comes first” policy — so I keep going.

I’m nearly done with the last customer in line when a woman comes up with a huge cart of items. She looks at the “LANE CLOSED” sign and then looks at me.

Customer: “Are you open?”

I am careful to avoid saying I am closed.

Me: “I’m about to go to lunch, ma’am, I’m sorry. The registers on either side of me are open, though.”

Customer: “But you’re not open?”

Me: “I’m going to lunch as soon as I’m done with this customer.”

Customer: “Well, are you open or closed?!”

Other Cashier: *Waving* “I can ring you out down here, ma’am! Come on down!”

Customer: “I’m asking if she is open!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, I—”

Finally, the woman I’ve been checking out speaks up.

Customer: #2 “She can’t tell you she’s closed, but she is. If you’d listen, you’d know.”

Customer: *Stunned* “Excuse me? Was I talking to you?”

Customer #2: “I’m talking to you. Go get in another line.”

Customer: “This is how you treat customers? You’ve lost a sale!”

The woman storms out, leaving her cart at my register. After I am done with my last customer, I take the cart to customer service to sort into the return bins. While there, my last customer comes over with a manager.

Manager: “[My Name], I need to speak with you.”

Me: “Uh… okay.”

Manager: “This customer tells me you had a woman who tried to come through your line while you were closed.”

Me: “Um… yes. But I didn’t—”

My manager holds up his hand.

Manager: “You’re okay.”

Customer #2: “I told him what happened, just in case she complains.”

Me: *Relieved* “Oh. Thank you!”

Sure enough, the woman called and complained that I was rude to her, told her to find someone else to ring her out, and even made fun of her! She demanded a $500 gift card for her “emotional trauma” and threatened to call the news stations and the BBB if we didn’t give her what she wanted. The manager told her he’d reviewed the tapes and saw none of that. She screeched and hung up.