I’m shopping, and I see a customer walk up to the aisle with our dinner sets and ceramics. He takes a bowl from the shelf and inspects it, and then he proceeds to do the following actions, all using unpaid items from their cart.

He takes an antiseptic wipe and wipes the bowl down. Then, he opens a box of cereal and pours it into the bowl. Then, he opens some milk and pours it into the bowl! Then, he takes one of the loose spoons from the shelf, wipes it, too, and starts to eat the cereal!

He does all of this without rushing or looking around nervously. He’s acting like this is the most normal behavior in the world. I’m so stunned that I go and tell an employee about what I just saw.

Employee: “You must be mistaken.”

Me: “I assure you, I know what I saw.”

I bring them back over to see the customer pouring himself ANOTHER bowl. The employee marches up to him.

Employee: “Excuse me, what are you doing?!”

Customer: “What does it look like? I’m eating cereal.”

Employee: “With items you’re planning to pay for?”

Customer: *Chewing on cereal* “Why would I do that?”

Employee: “Because… you’re using it?”

Customer: “You only pay for stuff you leave the store with, right?”

Employee: “No, you pay for stuff you use.”

Customer: *Pointing to a sign at the exit* “That says that customers are not allowed to leave with unpaid merchandise. I am not leaving with unpaid merchandise.”

Employee: “You’re also not allowed to consume unpaid merchandise.”

Customer: *Chowing down on another spoon of cereal* “Sign doesn’t say that.”

Employee: “The sign also doesn’t say we will prosecute thieves, but we will.”

The customer simply continues chewing and smiles.

The employee then walks away with me and calls over security. Security then informs the customer that he needs to pay for what he has used. When the customer refuses, the police are then called, but by this time, the customer is making his way to the exit. Because his attitude pisses me off, I follow him out and write down his license plate.

Customer: “What are you doing?!”

Me: “Writing down your license plate to give to the police when they arrive!”

Customer: “You can’t do that!”

Me: “Show me a sign where it says I can’t do that.”

He glared at me but didn’t stop me. He drove off, and I gave the information to the police when they eventually arrived.

I work in a grocery store that’s open twenty-four-seven. One night, a customer comes in looking a little tired and starts… organizing the shelves.

Me: “Ma’am, that’s okay. We have staff who can do that. They start at 11:00 pm.”

Customer: “I’ve had a bad day, and this calms me.”

Me: “I understand, but we have a system and…”

I stop to look, and she’s actually doing everything correctly.

Customer: “The [Brand #1] items go on this shelf, next to [Brand #2]. These flavors always go in this order, with the green ones to the left, and…”

As she continues, she shows that she has memorized the entire section of the shelves.

Me: “That… how did you know that?”

Customer: “I look at the shelving, and it calms me. When I am having a bad day, I come here and organize. Please, I need to finish.”

I silently nod, and observe as she continues, and not only does she get everything right, but everything is perfectly in a row, almost with perfect precision.

She smiles in satisfaction when she’s done, and she leaves without incident. I relay this to my manager when I see them.

Manager: “That must be our shelving fairy!”

Me: “Our shelving what now?”

Manager: “The night shift has been talking about finding whole sections of the store in perfect order, almost impossibly so. We knew someone was doing it because we’d been selling those items all day and they should be messy, but no, always in perfect order.”

Me: “And you didn’t like… check the cameras or anything?”

Manager: “I wasn’t about to go digging around about something that was helping us. I have too many other things to worry about.”

Me: “Okay? Well, anyway, what do I do if she comes back?”

Manager: “Offer her a job?”

We both laugh. The next week, I see her again, organizing the shampoos — again, perfectly.

Me: “Bad day again?”

Customer: “I keep applying for jobs, but I’m weird and no one likes me.”

Me: “Oh… that’s awful.”

Customer: “I will try again tomorrow.”

I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. I run to go get my manager and tell him what she said. He almost runs back over!

Manager: “Waaaaaait! Do you want a job?”

The customer stands up and faces my manager, almost emotionless.

Customer: “Doing what?”

Manager: “Exactly what you’ve been doing.”

Customer: “I work nights and I don’t like people. I need Tuesdays off to play with my cats.”

Manager: “Done.”

Customer: “I will start tomorrow, but I need to finish this now.”

Manager: “No problem.”

Again, I observe as my manager rushes back and immediately begins the paperwork.

What happened next? It turns out the customer is on the spectrum (we suspected). She goes through the obligatory training, but it is immediately apparent that she doesn’t need it. Her pay is backdated a week — to the first time we noticed she was doing some work!

Her place on the spectrum is what caused her employment issues, and a social worker who works with her actually comes by the store to verify that she has, in fact, gotten a job.

The best part comes a month later when I am taking a break at the same time as her.

Customer, Now Coworker: “I’m glad I am here. It’s nice to have friends who aren’t cats.”

My heart melted. I met her cats that next Tuesday!

This story is part of the Best-Feel-Good-Stories Of-2023 roundup!

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I have a pinched nerve. It’s usually fine, but if I lift something heavy the wrong way, or I twist just right, or the stars are out of alignment or something, it feels like someone jabs a knife in the side of my neck and hooks it to a car battery. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.

I’m out at the store, and one thing I have to get is a bag of rice. I squat down and grab the big five-pound bag from the bottom shelf, and then my brain shuts off as I straighten my legs first and THEN straighten my back and head. PING! Teeth grit, rice is dropped into my cart, and I end up doubled over the handlebar. Just around the time I’m wondering if this is a little flare-up or if I’m going to end up in bed for forty-eight hours again, I hear a nasty voice behind me.

Lady: “Ex-cuh-USE me!”

I don’t look up; I just slowly shuffle forward as I assume I’m in the way.

Lady: “Ugh, seriously?! You’re so high you can’t even look at me.”

Me: “Pain.”

Lady: “Awwww, poor little druggy coming down and doesn’t like it?”

Me: “Nerve… pain. Please, leave me alone.”

Lady: “You deserve it, druggy!”

Me: “F*** off. I don’t do drugs.”

That’s when she hit me with… something. I don’t know if it was her purse, a shopping bag, or what. I just heard and felt a vague “whump” on my back before letting out a yowl like I had been shot. I honestly have no idea why she assumed I was on drugs or why that necessitated violence, nor did I get the chance to ask as she booked it around the time several workers came running into the aisle to check on the noise.

I got a helping hand up to the “waiting for a ride” benches at the front of the store, and I got offers of ice packs which past experience told me wouldn’t help. The water bottle I did take, though, and thankfully, after another ten-ish minutes, things settled down enough that I could check out and drive home.

The manager on duty said they’d pull the security camera footage, and if anything official was done, he’d be in touch. It’s been a month now, so my hopes aren’t high.

I’m a self-checkout attendant in a grocery store chain. We’re semi-famous for having a mechanical horse at the front of the store, which can be ridden for just a penny. It’s nothing fancy, but kids adore it.

A woman rolls a full cart of groceries into the self-checkout with three little boys in tow. As soon as they spot the horse, they start begging to ride it. The woman is just trying to get everything scanned and bagged, and she keeps telling them they don’t have time, but the kids just keep asking.

Me: *To the kids* “Sorry, guys, [Horse] is actually taking a nap right now. He gets really tired with people riding him all day.”

Customer: “Yes! He’s napping! [Horse] is taking a nap! You can’t ride him today.”

The kids weren’t happy, but they accepted that [Horse] was napping and didn’t fuss anymore. I now use this excuse with all kids whining about not getting a ride. If any of them ask me why [Horse]’s eyes are open while he’s supposedly napping, I’m going to tell them that he has no eyelids.

The store I work at happens to be near a Native American Reservation, and most of the people that live there are amazing and wonderful people. Others… not so much.

At our store, we are not allowed to accept Tribe ID cards for purchases of alcohol and tobacco products. This can cause issues, and I (a white woman) have been called a racist more than once because I would not sell to them with just the Tribe ID. What most of the argumentative ones don’t know is that we’ve reached out to the elders of the tribe before about this issue. This will be important in a moment.

The other night, I was training as a backup for the customer service manager, and the lady working the self-checkout asked me to explain the policy to a woman who was refusing to accept what my coworker was telling her.

I went over, and the first thing out of this woman’s mouth was:

Customer: “What’s the real reason you won’t accept my Tribal ID?!”

I decided that since she was being somewhat aggressive, I wasn’t gonna pull any punches.

Me: “Your chief has told us that we should not accept any Tribal IDs because the Tribe is supposed to be dry.”

That means no alcohol or tobacco products are allowed. This is true, though it’s also store policy.

She gaped like a fish for a moment before grumbling that she didn’t even live on the reservation before leaving the store, thankfully leaving the beer behind.

I will admit that she did look old enough to purchase it, but once the ID check is initiated, we have to be presented a valid ID. We can get in a lot of trouble if we don’t.

And I don’t care if you live on the reservation or not; we don’t accept them. I’m seriously debating asking if we can put a sign up by the beer stating that we don’t take them, but the sign probably wouldn’t be read anyway.