I’m visiting my friend in the USA. We decide to bake the cupcakes that started our friendship but she is out of milk.

I go buy some and at the register, I’m greeted with a sign that says, “We do not accept payment of any kind that was stored in your underwear.”

The fact that they had to put a sign makes me wonder how often that happens.

(My cousin and her family live in England but are visiting us in the US for a vacation. One evening, her husband makes a solo trip to the grocery store for a few items.)

Employee: “Hello, can I help you find anything?”

Cousin’s Husband: “Actually, you could. Where could I find… [groceries]?”

(She points him towards what he needs and he goes about his shopping. He sees her again at the till when it’s time to check out.)

Employee: *scanning items* “I was just wondering, where is your accent from?”

Cousin’s Husband: “Oh, I’m from England.”

Employee: “Yes! See, my coworker and I were trying to guess what it was, and that’s what I thought.”

Cousin’s Husband: “Oh, what was her guess?”

Employee: *cheerfully* “She thought you were on drugs!”

(My father and I are shopping at a well-known supermarket the week of Thanksgiving, and on our way out, Dad is looking for a place to park one of the electric carts he now uses regularly. We end up near one of the crane games with the plushies and the company employee is filling it up. It’s my first time seeing the machine open.)

Me: “Oh, look! I always wondered how they filled those up!”

Employee: “Well, there you have it.”

Me: “That’s very cool! Oh, look, Dad! It’s a candy corn!”

(And indeed it is a plush candy corn, with cat ears and tail, arms and legs, and a smiley face on it. The employee takes it out and hands it to me, so I show my father. I try to hand it back, but she tells me to keep it.)

Employee: “It’s left over from Halloween. We’re getting rid of it anyway.”

Me: “Thank you very much!”

(I’ve never been good at the crane games, so getting that toy, cheap as it may be, was a real treat for me and made my whole day. Many thanks to that kind employee!)

(I work evenings, especially Saturdays. 99% of the employees are 16 to 25 and the atmosphere is pretty relaxed. If your shift is long enough, employees are allowed to take dinner from the store up to about €8 worth. Many coworkers opt to get a pizza and bake those in our ovens. This is completely fine as long as we still have room to bake bread if we have to and so long as they clean up. It’s the cleaning up bit that quite a few have trouble with. They take their pizzas from the oven and drop the hot baking plates wherever on our tabletop. Quite often this is on top of plastic bags that melt and stick to the plate. It’s a waste of bags and product, and a horrible smell, if we don’t notice and use the plate to bake again. Also, we bakers have a system of putting hot plates in kind of half-enclosed trolleys to the side so anything laying on the tabletops should be warm at worst. One evening, I AGAIN remind a coworker as she is putting in her pizza to properly clean up her hot plate. As she comes back from the lunchroom, we have the following exchange:)

Me: “[Coworker], could you come over here, please?”

Coworker: “Sure, what’s up?”

Me: “Could you put your hand in the oven, please?”

Coworker: “What?”

Me: “Just for a second or two, place your hand in the oven; just lay it in there.”

Coworker: “Are you mad? No way!”

Me: “Then how about putting away your hot plates?”

(The penny dropped, and after that, she always put them in the right place. Word must have spread, as well, as the number of hot plates on the tabletops dropped significantly.)

(I work at a “budget” grocery store, where customers are expected to bag their own items. My customer and I bond over the fact that she works as a cashier at [Way More Expensive Grocery Store] and we casually make fun of bad customers as I ring her up.)

Customer: “Yeah, customers can be awful. But, I mean, you know, at least at [Expensive Store] we actually do our jobs and bag groceries, unlike here where they don’t understand customer service.”

(Her tone has quickly switched from happy and friendly to quite nasty, and I’m rather taken aback at the change.)

Me: “I… I’m sorry?”

Customer: “Yeah. We just work way harder than you. You just stand there.”

Me: “I can assure you, ma’am, we work very hard here.”

Customer: “Not as hard as we work at [Expensive Store]. I actually do more than stand around and scan things. It’s just ridiculous that we have to bag our own things! It’s not right! We’d never treat a customer like that at [Expensive Store]!”

Me: “That’s not really called for. We all work hard here, and—”

Customer: “Ridiculous!”

Me: “I’m sorry you’re frustrated, but not paying for baggers is how we keep our prices so low. [Expensive Store] is almost twice the price for almost everything, and their prices are higher specifically because they have more luxuries, like paying to have enough staff on hand that you have time to bag between customers.”

Customer: “Oh, my God, I looooove how cheap you guys are compared to [Expensive Store], nowhere near as expensive as my work. That’s why I love coming here! You just need to learn to do your job properly and bag things!”

Me: *sigh*