(I work at a European grocery store, in Australia. Our card reading machines are a bit crappy and have a few steps to them, including a screen that asks the customer if they would like to take cash out, a screen asking them to select their account using the numbers on the PIN pad, and then a screen telling them to enter their PIN. The next person in line at my till is a young woman, but a man has perhaps unintentionally put his one bottle of liquor in front of her groceries. He walks forward expectantly, assuming I will now serve him first. I glance over to the young woman and she gives me a little shrug which I take to mean she doesn’t mind if I take care of the man first, and avoid possible trouble.)

Me: “Hi! How are you today?”

Old Man: “I want $60 cash out.”

Me: “Sure thing. You’ll just need to insert your card for me.”

Old Man: *tries to insert his card upside down*

Me: “Round the other way, please, sir.”

Old Man: *grunts but manages to put it in right*

Me: “Okay, so, what I need you to do is just type in ‘60’ and then hit the ‘okay’ button there at the bottom for me.”

Old Man: *more grunts*

(I see he’s struggling a bit so I reach over and type it in for him, and then turn the machine back to him. I’m already panicking because he obviously is going to be difficult and the lady he pushed in front of is going to have to wait even longer. I explain that he needs to select his account.)

Old Man: “Well, I want a cheque.”

Me: “No problem, just hit whatever number it says cheque is.”

(I watch him try and fail to hit the “CHQ” button instead of the number multiple times before I pull the machine toward me and select number three for a cheque. By this point, he is beyond agitated and snaps at me.)

Old Man: “Do you want my PIN number, too, girl? Want to put that in for me?”

Me: “No, you can do that yourself, sir.”

(I turn the machine back to him and he enters his PIN, but doesn’t hit “okay” to actually finish the transaction.)

Me: “Sir, just hit ‘okay’ for me, please.”

Old Man: “Okay?”

Me: “Yes.”

(The old man proceeds to pull his card out without hitting “okay,” completely canceling the transaction. I am internally screaming by now.)

Me: “Sir, you needed to press ‘okay.’ You pulled your card out before it was ready and now you need to do it again.”

Old Man: *now practically yelling* “You said it was okay.”

Me: “No, I said you needed to press ‘okay,’ the green ‘okay’ button at the bottom of the machine, which tells the machine that you have finished entering your PIN.”

(The man now hands me his card.)

Old Man: “You do it, then, if you think I’m so incapable!”

(I’m wishing I could tell him just how incapable I really think he is, but I just run his card again, enter his cash-out amount, select cheque, and then hand it back to him for him to enter his PIN. He enters it, finally presses ‘okay,’ and the till tells me it’s processing.)

Old Man: “Is it ready yet?”

Me: “Not quite; it will beep.”

(The machine beeps and my heart is racing at this point.)

Me: “Okay, sir, you can remove your card. Here is your cash; have a good day.”

(He grumbled off and I apologized profusely to the lady who was supposed to be before him. Thankfully, she was cool about it and said I had handled it well. He was only buying one thing and his transaction was honestly one of the longest and definitely the worst one I had that entire day. People can be so awful.)

(I work as a part-time cashier at a grocery store. The store has a discount for seniors — 60 years old and above — on certain days. It can only be applied before the transaction finishes. Usually, I just immediately give the discount based on appearance. However, some seniors don’t look their age, and sometimes they forget to tell me beforehand.)

Me: *gives the receipt* “Thank you. Have a nice day!” 

Customer: *looks at receipt* “Wait… Why haven’t you given me my discount?”

Me: “Um… Do you mean the senior discount? Are you a senior?”

Customer: *raises her voice* “Of course!” *takes out her passport* “See this? I’m 71! I’ve been a senior for so long; how could you not tell?!”

(Keep in mind that this lady is wearing rather fashionable clothes that cover her arms, has light brown dyed hair, and is wearing a huge pair of sunglasses that cover half her face. I honestly thought she was in her 50s.)

Me: “Sorry, I thought you looked young, so I didn’t ask…”

Customer: *visibly gets more upset* “What a joke! I’m a senior and I deserve to get the discount! Call your manager now!”

(I have to call my manager to cancel the transaction and rescan the items so that the discount can be added.) 

Customer: “By the way, the last time I shopped here, the cashier also had to call the manager to give me my discount! Such terrible service!” *walks off in a huff* 

Another Customer: “Wow, this is the first time I’ve seen someone get upset when you tell them they don’t look like a senior citizen!” 

Me: “Yeah…” 

(The discount was only 90 cents.)

Related:
Having A Senior Moment, Part 2
Having A Senior Moment

(I’m on break but have been roped into working in the smoke shop of a well-known grocery store.)

Customer: “I need two packs of Players Rich Regular.”

Me: “Okay, what colour is that one?”

Customer: “They usually have to go into the back to get it. It’s not on the shelf.”

Me: “Okay, but what colour is it so I can find it?”

(The customer mumbles something that I don’t catch while I grab the keys to the back. I search the labels for Rich, but all I see are Original, Smooth, and an unlabelled one that I assume must be Rich, of which I have five packs in the shop.)

Me: “I didn’t see any that said, ‘Rich,’ on the package but—”

Customer: “It doesn’t say, ‘Rich,’ on the label! It has blue and gray lines on it.”

Me: “Okay, then I do actually have some on the shelf here. Regular, right?”

Customer: “Yes! How long have you been working in the tobacco shop?”

Me: “I’m actually just doing a break in here right now.”

Customer: “Oh, is that why you’re so happy?”

(The customer asked for two other cigarette packs which were easily found, paid, and left with the receipt.)

(A lot of people assume that we keep the freshest fish hidden in the back, but if that’s what this customer meant, they chose the weirdest way to ask.)

Customer: “I want rainbow trout for tomorrow.”

Me: “Sure, right over there.”

Customer: “Those have today’s date on them.”

Me: “Yes, because I put them out today.”

Customer: “But I want it for tomorrow. Will it be okay?”

Me: “Of course. Look, the expiry date is four days from now.”

Customer: “I would rather have tomorrow’s date.”

Me: “I… You want fish with tomorrow’s date on it?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Then you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Customer: *stares*

Me: *forced chuckle* “I don’t have a time machine!”

Customer: “I understand.”

(Well, I don’t!)

(One night, the freezers at the grocery store where I work go down overnight. All the staff has to spend the next morning putting everything in carts and taking them to the dumpster. I am in the back working in receiving that day, and the once-frozen items have been in the dumpster for about four hours in the hot sun, when a woman shows up very upset.)

Woman: “Why is all this food out here and why didn’t you call me?!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Woman: “WHY. DIDN’T. YOU. CALL. ME? I could use this food and you’re just wasting it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but our freezer went out overnight so everything was thawed when we opened. It can’t be sold or consumed.”

Woman: “Tell me why that is. TELL ME WHY THAT IS!”

Me: *long pause* “Because you might die?”

Woman: “That’s for me to sort out. You should know to call me about this.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t know who you are.”

Woman: “Oh, that is rich. Everyone knows me; I’m [Woman] and I run the food shelter. I’m taking this stuff.”

Me: “No, ma’am, please. This food has been here, baking in the sun for hours. It cannot be eaten.”

Woman: “Shut the f*** up, plebe, and load this s*** in my car!”

(My manager hears the exchange and tells her exactly what I told her. She turns beet red and yells.)

Woman: “You f***ers will be sorry you messed with [Woman]!”

Manager: *to me* “She’s been doing her job for two weeks, and the first time I met her she said I should already know who she is.”

Me: “Yep, I got that part.”