(I work as a cashier for a large chain grocery store. It is the end of the night, and I am the only register open since my supervisors are clearing the self-checks. A sports celebrity known for his facial hair comes through my line with his friends.

They’re buying about three carts full of various party supplies like cups, chips, and drinks. He and his friends completely ignore any of my small talk questions like whether they found everything okay. I’m fine with that, as it is late and I’m not much for small talk by then, either. This happens at the end of the transaction.)

Me: “Your total is $602.77.”

(The customer gives me six $100 bills and then stares at me expectantly.)

Me: “All right, that will be $2.77.”

(The customer looks at me like I’m crazy.)

Customer: “What? You can’t cover that for me?”

Me: “No, sir, that will be $2.77.”

Customer: “I can’t believe you won’t cover that for me.”

Me: “No, sir, I don’t want my drawer to be short at the end of the night. That will be $2.77.”

(The customer glares for a moment before dramatically pulling out his wallet and swiping his gold credit card. I speak to him while printing the receipt.)

Me: “Thank you, sir, I hope you have a—”

(I was cut off as he snatched the receipt out of my hand, turning up his nose with an annoyed grunt, and walked away. I mentioned it to my manager later and she said I should have let him go on the $2.77, as a local celebrity coming in is good for business. 

A month later, he was traded to a team in another state, with a multi-million dollar signing bonus.)

(I work at a grocery store bakery. We have a very small selection of nut-free desserts that we get in, and because we have desserts with nuts, we tell customers we can’t guarantee that any of the cakes we make won’t come into contact with nuts. Most customers are understanding about this.)

Customer: “How long in advance do I need to order a cake? And I need one nut-free.”

Me: “You need to order a cake 24 hours in advance, and we cannot guarantee our cakes have not come into contact with nuts.”

Customer: “Can’t you just have a special area for it and one person just for the cake?”

Me: “We still wouldn’t be able to guarantee it.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “Because we use nuts here and can’t guarantee they won’t come into contact with your cake.”

Customer: “Well, that’s stupid. [Other Grocery Store] does it for me. Aren’t you guys the same company?”

Me: “No, we aren’t. You’re thinking of [Grocery Store Company that bought out Other Grocery Store a few years back].”

Customer: “Whatever. I’ll just go to [Other Grocery Store], then.”

(I think, “Oh, good, you can be their potential lawsuit.”)

Me: “All right. Have a good night.”

Last night, at the local grocery, I accidentally grabbed the wrong hamburger buns. I waited roughly three feet from a self-check machine to clear an exchange with the attendant.

The woman checking out on that machine looked back at me a few times. When she finished, she deliberately took a huge step backward, coming very close to my cart. She shot me a disgusted look, grabbed her kids, and snottily said, “Come on! Some people are too close!”

I was briefly stunned, but I’m not the kind of person who lets things like that go. If she wants to publicly shame, she will be publicly shamed. I raised my voice so she would hear, “You can’t step into someone three feet away and then complain they’re too close.”

The couple at the next scanner said, “What?” So, I explained what she had done. They rolled their eyes and loudly said, “Some people!”

The offender left hurriedly, very red-faced.

(The entrance to our backroom is next to the wall of pre-packaged meats. Immediately next to the wall on the other side is the meat and seafood counter. During the afternoons and evenings, once everyone has clocked in for the day, one of the butchers will often come out to restock the wall and assist customers there while the other butchers assist customers at the counter. During the mornings, however, they mostly prepare the displays at the counter and get things ready for the day. It’s mid-morning and I just clocked in.

I come out of the backroom and see a customer staring at the wall. As I pass him, I greet him, like I’m trained to do.)

Customer: “You. I’ve been waiting for ten minutes for someone to come out and help me! Where are the meat guys?”

(I take three steps to the left and am now in front of the counter. Two of the butchers are back there working. They see me and wave.)

Me: “A customer out here has a question.”

(One of the butchers dropped what he was doing and came out to help. But the guy could clearly see the counter from where he was standing, so why he didn’t take a few steps over to see if anyone was back there is a mystery to me.)

(I am a checker in a grocery store, working after the managers have already gone home and the stockers are working the aisles. There is a certain customer who most of us dread dealing with because he says inappropriate things to the checkers as “jokes.” One night, he comes storming up to my check lane, basket in hand. Important to the story: [Rice Mix] is on sale.)

Customer: “There isn’t any beef [Rice Mix] on the shelf! This is [expletive] ridiculous.”

Me: “Did you ask the stockers? There might be more in back.”

Customer: “You ask the stockers. That’s your job. I’m not going back there for that.”

(I sign out of my register and walk to the aisle the rice is in with him following right behind me. The stockers are stocking the [Rice Mix] section and have been for a while. I ask one of the stockers if there is any more beef [Rice Mix] on the pallet or in back, and he says they are completely out and gives me the date they expect more, which is after the sale is over. I turn back to the customer.)

Me: “If you go up to the office, they will give you a raincheck for the rice.”

Customer: “I don’t want a [expletive] raincheck, I want my beef [Rice Mix]!”

Me: “The store brand is cheaper than the sale price on the [Rice Mix], and there is a beef one.”

Customer: *now screaming* “This is [expletive]! I will have your job for this!”

(I am tired and past caring.)

Me: “You can have my job. It really isn’t that good.”

(He stared at me for a moment in disbelief and the stockers started laughing. He screamed that he was going to have us all fired. Then, he walked to a different register, checked out, and left. I never heard anything from management and I never saw him again. It wasn’t a glorious triumph, but I’m counting it as a win.)