(I am shopping in a grocery store and want to get some chicken breasts for dinner at the butchery. Because I only have to make dinner for myself, I want to get just a few. They are on sale and a nice worker is quick to help me.)

Me: “Hey, could I get one of the chicken breasts, please?”

Worker: “Yes, no problem!” *grabs four pieces and puts them in the plastic bag*

Me: “Oh, I wanted just one, please.”

Worker: “No problem!” *puts one of the pieces away and goes to put the three on the scale*

Me: “No, please. I said one, not three.”

Worker: “But no one buys only one. They are on sale.”

Me: “But I really need just one. Could I get it, please?”

(She sighs heavily, looks at me, and pulls two pieces out of the bag in a dramatic fashion.)

Worker: “You will miss out on a great deal by just buying one.”

Me: “I think I will get over that, thanks.”

(I grabbed my bag as I could hear her say, “Who just buys one?”)

(I buy a cheese pastry in a supermarket and, after paying for it, I sit down at a table they have in there for people to rest during their shopping or wait for other shoppers to finish and I start eating it.)

Lady: *keeps staring intensely at my pastry*

Me: “Would you like to have a piece?”

Lady: “Oh, no, I really don’t like cheese.”

Me: “Oh, okay. Thankfully, I do.”

Lady: “Yeah… No, I really don’t like cheese.”

Me: “Okay.”

Lady: “If I ate only a small piece of cheese I would vomit.”

Me: “…”

Lady: “Yes, I would vomit right away. I really, really don’t like cheese. I think it’s really disgusting. For my entire life, I never liked it. I don’t even want to think about eating it. Cheese is disgusting.”

Me: “…”

Lady: “You know, if there was one thing I could ban from the world completely, it would be: fruit juice with apple juice mixed in it, cheese, and red peppers, but seriously, those are really dangerous.”

(Thankfully, I enjoyed the rest of my pastry in silence.)

(I’ve had a rough day and am making my last stop to grab lunch supplies for the week. I’ve already waited patiently — and politely, I might add — at the meat section of the deli counter so a different associate can fix a troublesome scale. Now I need to get some cheese and I am directed to speak to her coworker. The exchange goes as follows.)

Me: “Hi. Can I get a quarter-pound of Muenster? Please and thanks!”

Worker: *sighs and rolls her eyes* “Ugh, seriously? Can you get something else? That’s, like, the hardest cheese to cut.”

Me: *shocked* “Um, yeah? I’m sorry to hear that, but it’s my favorite cheese.”

Worker: *sighs again and turns to slice my order* “Wait, how much?”

Me: “A quarter-pound?”

Worker: *sighs AGAIN* “So, like, what? How do I slice that?”

Me: *mouth slightly hanging open* “Uh, I guess, like, ten or so slices thin cut? How would I know?”

Worker: *grunts at me and turns back around to handle my order*

(I wait awkwardly, still a little shocked at her attitude, until she finally turns around and weighs out my cheese. It comes out well over half a pound, which I mention to her.)

Worker: “Well, what do you want me to do about it? Just buy it; it’s not my problem.”

(She then wrapped up and stickered the cheese, roughly shoving the slices into a bag so they got slightly crushed and mangled, before walking off, presumably on a break. I was left standing there with my mouth agape and her coworker from earlier silently giving me a look of apology as she handled a line of customers. I feel so bad for you, Ms. Nice Deli Meat Lady, having to work with Ms. Grumpy-Cheese all day.)

(I have recently begun a new job as a manager in a UK supermarket renowned for its customer service. On my second day, I’m doing a walkabout of the food hall and spot a lost-looking older lady.)

Me: “Hello. Can I help you today?”

Customer: “YOU ARE FAR TOO FRIENDLY. FAR. TOO. FRIENDLY!” *storms off*

(I work in a supermarket deli/bakery combo, and one day a young woman wearing an apron and a hairnet comes rushing up to the counter. The shirt she’s wearing implies she works at a nearby family restaurant. It is during lunchtime when we typically get a lot of customers who want sandwiches or one of our hot meals, and there are only three employees, so we’re all busy with other customers. As she runs up, she immediately begins slapping the counter and snapping her fingers for attention.)

Me: “Someone will be with you as soon as they can, ma’am.”

(She rolls her eyes and folds her arms, huffing angrily, and then starts slapping and snapping again. She has literally been at the counter for less than a minute. Lucky me, I’m the first person done to help her.)

Me: “Hello! Sorry for the wait. What can I get for you today?”

Woman: “I want five pounds of Swiss!”

Me: “Okay. And how would you like that sliced?”

Woman: *pulls an exaggerated face and slaps both hands on the counter like I’m an idiot* “For sandwiches. Hurry it up!”

(I slice the cheese for her — when I show her the first slice to see if it’s thick or thin enough, as we’re required to, she slaps the counter again and rolls her eyes, saying nothing — and pile it all on the scale in front of her.)

Woman: “Oh, no! No, no. Do better.”

Me: “Pardon me?”

Woman: “Why is your cheese so expensive? You’ve got to do better than that for me.”

Me: “Those are our prices as set by the company, ma’am.”

Woman: “No! I know you can put codes and s*** in there to discount it for me. Come on. I work for a living, too!”

(My pleasant customer service persona was rapidly eroding due to her rudeness, and I told her simply that I could not adjust pricing on items as I pleased — which is very true. She spun around and stormed off without getting her cheese, which luckily was a popular enough type that we sold most of it and used the rest for sandwiches easily. It’s beyond me how someone could pull the “we work for a living, have pity on me” card while at the same time treating another service industry person so nastily, no matter how stressed or frustrated they might be with their day. The kicker? I saw her storming up to the till with a few handfuls of pre-sliced cheese packages… It was only part of the amount she had wanted, and yet I still know for a fact was still more expensive than what she would have paid for the stuff she said was too pricey and pitched a fit over. Oh, well.)

Related:
Seriously Cheesed Off, Part 3
Seriously Cheesed Off, Part 2
Seriously Cheesed Off