(I’m at a grocery store with my brother. We’re only getting some ice so we’re paying with cash. I’m the stupid customer here.)

Me: *hands money to cashier*

Cashier: *gives a dollar back in change, though we should have gotten some coins back, as well*

Brother: *looks questioningly at me*

Me: *whispering* “Let’s just go.” *I didn’t want to make a fuss out of less than a dollar*

(A few minutes later I tell my mom what happened.)

Mom: “There’s a machine the coins drop out of. You were supposed to take them yourself instead of the cashier handing them to you.”

Me: “Oh.”

(I felt very stupid and a little ashamed for thinking the cashier was trying to take our money.)

(I often find myself put on the self-service and scan-as-you-shop department on my own, which is incredibly frustrating in itself. When dumb people come through it only enhances my frustration. A drunk woman comes through the self-service area with a four-pack of cider.)

Customer: “Can you help me, love? I’ve never used these.” *a lie I hear on a regular basis from people who’re too drunk to remember I’ve helped them before with self-service*

Me: “With the barcode, scan the item in front of the glass and put it on the scales in the bagging area.”

Customer: “Do what?”

Me: “Scan the item with its barcode in front on the glass and put it on the scales.”

Customer: “Scan it where?”

Me: “In front of the glass.”

Customer: “Then what?”

Me: “Put it on the scales.”

Customer: “How do I scan it?”

Me: *getting more frustrated* “With the barcode.”

Customer: “Where?”

Me: “In front of the glass panel.”

Customer: “Where’s the barcode?”

(Totally pissed, I speak in an angry tone and poke her cans of cider hard with my finger at the barcode.)

Me: “It’s there!”

Customer: *looks at me like I’ve just kicked her mother* “All right. I’m not thick.”

Me: “Could’ve fooled me.”

(The store is doing remodeling from a basic grocery store to a more all-in-one store, and as a result, they have additional workers, aisles or even whole categories moved to a different location, roped-off and plastic-covered areas, and other frustrations. I have just gotten off work and my mom tells me she needs me to pick up a few things she forgot when she went shopping. Due to the store having changed everything, she is on the phone with me, walking me through to where she remembered items being a few days ago.)

Mom: “The next aisle should have [items].”

(I leave the current aisle, about to make a u-turn into the next aisle, when I see that they have blocked off the area with some plastic from the roof to the floor and that what sign was there has been ripped off. I don’t tell her this until I see that the next available aisle has items that in no way match the items she told me.)

Me: “Crap, they moved it.”

Mom: “Well, f***. Try to see if you can find them or somebody wearing the construction orange shirts that might be able to help you. Until then…”

(She keeps guiding me and, for the most part, the items are either in the area, or she’s close enough that I find them within an aisle of where she remembers them being. However, I have yet to find the items from the moved aisle until I finally approach one of the employees.)

Me: “Do you know where [items] are?”

Employee: “Yes, they are—“

(Sadly, I forget I had the phone to my ear and the employee is drowned out by my mom.)

Mom: “Why are you asking me? You just told me they were moved!”

(Realizing I’m dealing with both the phone and an employee at the same time, I release a sheepish chuckle. I’m performing my own pet peeve, so decide to hang up.)

Me: “Hang on. I found one of the guides; I’ll call you back.”

(As I’m hanging up, the guy looks somewhat shocked, and visibly braces for something.)

Me: “Yeah, can you show me where you moved [items], please? My mom, who I was talking to, was leading me around, but you must have moved them in the last few days.”

Employee: “Oh, yes! They are [directions]. Would you like for me to show you?”

Me: “That’s fine, but I’m sure they’d prefer you to stay in your area so that others can find you. But is something wrong?”

Employee: “No, I’m just shocked you got off the phone and actually asked, as opposed to yelling at me.”

(As I hear him say that last part, I cringe before shaking my head.)

Me: “Yeah, I can only picture it, as I passed by another guide that was getting the tenth-degree including every combo curse in the book.”

Employee: “If only it was that, but there’s been more than a few threats to stop the remodel or boycott the store.”

Me: “I worked at [Other Grocery Store] when they were doing their remodeling, so…”

(The employee gives me the “YES! SOMEBODY WHO KNOWS!” look before taking me to the item despite my protests.)

Employee: “Here you go — [items]. But can I see that [most expensive item in my cart] first?”

Me: “Umm, sure?”

(The employee placed a clearance sticker on the top of the item reading “25% off, valued customer” before handing it back and thanking me before leaving me completely shocked.)

(I was involved in an incident that left me anxious around strangers. I’m barely able to talk to them and I really don’t want to be touched by them. I have been getting help, but I still have to have family or a friend go with me whenever I go out. I’m out shopping with one of my closest friends. I’m deciding on what chips I want when he says he is going to the next aisle to grab some water. I’m okay with this since it should only be less than a minute before he gets back. As soon as he goes around the corner, a middle-aged woman comes up to me.)

Lady: “Excuse me. Can you tell me where the [item] is?”

(I’m feeling anxious already, but she was polite so I manage to answer her.)

Me: “Sorry. I don’t know where that is.”

(Her politeness disappears immediately.)

Lady: *raising her voice* “What do you mean, you don’t know? What kind of employees do they hire here that don’t know where anything is?!”

(The employees wear long-sleeve, white dress shirts with a tie, black slacks, and either a vest or apron. I’m wearing a white hoodie and black jeans.)

Me: *starting to shake and tear up* “I don’t work here. I—“

Lady: *cutting me off* “BULLS***! I saw you help that young man just now.”

(I’m now beginning to panic when I see my friend come around the corner and begin to walk toward him.)

Lady: *grabs me by the arm* “DON’T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME, YOU LAZY B—“

(That’s the last thing I hear. I’m not 100% sure what happens but my friend tells me that as soon as the lady turns me, I punch her in the nose. Then I kind of black out for a little while. My friend tells me this is what happens after I punch her.)

Lady: *now holding her bloody nose* “CALL THE COPS! THIS F****** EMPLOYEE JUST ASSAULTED ME!”

Friend: *checking on me* “She’s not an employee; she’s a customer. And you grabbed her first.”

Lady: “DON’T YOU LIE FOR HER!”

(A manager comes over with the security guard and an employee who is another friend of mine.)

Manager: “What’s going on?”

Lady: “THIS B**** PUNCHED ME FOR NO REASON!”

Friend: “You grabbed her first.”

(The cops are called, and I begin to calm down. I see the employee holding my hand trying to calm me down.)

Me: *disoriented* “What’s going on?”

Employee: *calmly and quietly* “It’s okay. Can you tell me what you remember right now?”

Me: *starting to hyperventilate when I see the lady* “That woman grabbed me.”

Employee: *rubbing my hand* “It’s okay. The cops will be here and it will all be sorted out.”

(I just want to go home now. I pull my knees up to my chest and I start crying. My friend sits next to me and tries to calm me down. The lady still has to get her jabs in.)

Lady: “You know you f***** up, don’t you?”

Manager: “Miss, could you please leave her alone?”

Lady: “NO! THIS F****** B**** ASSAULTED ME AND SHE KNOWS SHE’S GOING TO JAIL! THAT’S WHY SHE IS CRYING!”

(My friend has had enough. I have never seen him so mad.)

Friend: “No! She is not. You’re the one who grabbed her, because you’re too stupid to listen when someone says they are not an employee.” *points to cameras and the end of the aisles* “And those will prove it.”

(The lady now has a worried look on her face and starts to walk back out of the aisle toward the exit, but the cops show up. The manager leads the cops, my friend, and the lady to his office to review the tapes while the employee stays with me.)

Me: *crying* “I want to go home.”

Employee: “As soon as they let [Friend] leave, we can go. How about when this is done I go get some [my favorite ice cream] and stop by [my favorite pizza place] and we watch some Disney movies?”

Me: “Don’t you still need to work?”

Employee: “No, I just got off. I can leave whenever we’re done here.”

(I agreed, and [Friend] came out and asked if I was ready to go. It took me a few more minutes to get up and go. On our way home, my friend told me that after they reviewed the tape and he explained how I don’t like to be touched, the cops were very understanding. The lady wasn’t, and she flipped out, slapping my friend and kicking the manager. The lady was arrested and that’s the last I heard about her. My employee friend came over later with the ice cream and pizza and we watched Disney movies for the rest of the night.)

(I have just started working at my new job this week. I was trained to use the registers in my earlier shift, so this is my first time going solo. A woman runs up to my register with the angriest look I have ever seen. I have had issues with social anxiety in the past, and her demeanour has already set my heart racing.)

Woman: “You! I want to complain about you!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. Whatever have I done?”

Woman: “YOU SOLD ME ICE AND WHEN I GOT HOME IT HAD MELTED!”

(I know I haven’t served this woman, because I have only served two people, both of them men.)

Me: “Sorry, I don’t think I sold you any ice. I only just started on the registers about half an hour ago.”

Woman: “I DON’T F****** CARE! YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME THE ICE WOULD MELT!”

(I’ve started going into panic mode and respond as though I actually did serve her.)

Me: “I-I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t realise you didn’t—“

Woman: “DIDN’T WHAT?! HUH?! DIDN’T THINK I WOULD COME BACK?!”

Me: “N-no. I Just thought everyone knew ice melted…”

(She’s about to spew more bile when realisation hits her — more like slaps her, as her head literally jerks. She blushes and runs out of the store. A manager who saw everything — and for whatever reason didn’t care to get involved — sends me into the back to calm down. Another manager, who also saw everything, follows me.)

Manager: “I see you’ve met the Ice Queen.”

Me: “She has a nickname?”

Manager: “Yup. She comes in every week complaining about her ice melting. We usually end up refunding her because she acts totally ignorant. I think you’re the first person to ever drive her out of the store.”

(He joked about assigning me to be the only one to deal with her, which practically set another panic attack off. The woman never returned, though, in the six months I was there, much to the amazement of the staff. I eventually left because the environment was very negative. I also found out during my weekly shopping at my local store that the Ice Queen had moved on to there. I don’t shop there anymore because her voice still makes me anxious.)