Customer: “Sir, I see your gluten-free bread, but I only see it in whole grain. I would like whole-wheat; can you find it for me?”

Me: “Sir, gluten-free means that it does not have wheat at all, so thus there is none”

Customer: “NO, YOU ARE WRONG! I KNOW IT IS REAL!”

Me: “Sir, I am going to have to ask you to calm down.”

Customer: “No, I will not calm down! You will get me my gluten-free whole-wheat bread now!”

(By this time, I had three coworkers join me, and we ended up kicking him out with him still screaming that he wanted his bread.)

(I work in the bakery of a grocery store chain. We sell our own cheesecake and the cheesecake of a very well known “factory”. We have full cakes of both brands but only sell slices in the name brand variety.)

Customer: *walks up to counter* “Do you have any chocolate eclairs today?”

Me: “No. I’m sorry, not today.”

Customer: “Okay.” *looks around for a little bit* “Your cheesecake slices are seven dollars?!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. They are from [Popular Factory].”

Customer: “Oh, okay. Well… that’d use up all my money… Wanna give me a discount?”

Me: “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Customer: “But… I really want the cheesecake!”

Me: “I’m not allowed to give any discounts, but I can call over my supervisor. He can—”

Customer: “I just want cheesecake!”

Me: “Want me to call him over?”

Customer: “No, just give me the cheesecake for free!”

Me: “I can’t, but my supervisor might be able to do something for you.”

Customer: “You are so un-Christian!” *stomps off*

(I work in a supermarket and whilst I know situations happen that can affect stock badly — i.e. broken fridges, dodgy ovens on the hot counters, etc. — I know not to have conversations about it in front of customers. I’m at a different supermarket run by a different company, as they sell a particular product I want. I’m waiting for a supervisor to check on the stock level of the product and I’m stood by the customer service desk and cigarette kiosk. The two colleagues seem pretty oblivious to my presence, despite saying hello to me minutes earlier.)

Colleague #1: *to kiosk colleague* “So, did you hear about the freezer thing?”

Colleague #2: “No?”

Colleague #1: “Well, the freezer on the shop floor that has the chicken in it broke. All the chicken thawed overnight. The next morning, they got it fixed quite quickly. And apparently, they just decided to put all of the previously thawed chicken back in the freezer to sell.”

Colleague #2: “Ew. Why?!”

Colleague #1: “Not sure. I hope our customers like salmonella!”

(At this point, I had been informed by the supervisor that the product I wanted was out of stock. The next day, after I enquired through their website for a stock update on the product I wanted, a survey popped up about my experience and I was honest about what I’d overheard. A manager ended up emailing me about the two colleagues’ conversation, apologising for what I had overheard. I made a mental note to never buy frozen items from that particular supermarket!)

Coworker: “If these people are sent into endless spirals of paralyzing existential horror by having to choose between three kinds of turkey, why do we allow them to vote?”

I am a widow and almost forty, but I look younger and many people assume I’m still in my late twenties.

I have a very physical job, doing freight in a grocery store in a very small town; there are lots of patriarchal world views out this way. 

A few months back, an elderly man was shopping right as we opened, about an hour before my shift was over. He gave me this slightly offended look while I was sweating my life away, putting heavy things on the shelf. 

Then, he asked, “What does your husband think of you doing this job?” 

I said, “I don’t know; let me ask”. Then, I bent down and yelled at the floor, “Hey, [Husband], what do you think of me doing this job?” and cocked my head to one side as if listening. After a few seconds, I stood up straight, looked the customer in the eye, and said, “I don’t think he minds.” The horrified look I received was priceless.

I’ve seen him a few times since and he just gets so embarrassed with himself when I greet him. And I make a point to smile really big and be super chipper, because that only gets him more flustered. 

I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks, after all. Specifically manners.