(The phone rings.)

Customer: “Hi. I would like to order some potato salad.”

Me: “Okay, how much?”

Customer: “I don’t know. How much do I need?”

Me: “Well, we suggest about a third of a pound per person. How many people are you feeding?”

Customer: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Okay, well, do you have an estimate?”

Customer: “We invited sixty people, but we don’t expect them all to show up.”

Me: “So, for sixty people, you’ll need around twenty pounds.”

Customer: “But we don’t expect to have that many guests.”

Me: “How many do you expect to have?”

Customer: “I don’t know! Just tell me how much potato salad to buy!”

Me: “…”

(The conversation went on in this vein until I eventually just told her to get fifteen pounds. When she balked at the price, I told her to get ten, instead, which appeared to satisfy her.)

(The supermarket in my area closes at midnight. I’ve just finished my late-night shopping and am exiting the store with my cart. It’s 12:01 am. A man parks his car and starts walking towards the store.)

Employee: “We’re closed.”

Customer: “[Supermarket]s don’t close.” *continues walking*

Employee: “This one closes at midnight. It’s not a supercenter.”

Customer: *continuing to approach* “Bulls***. [Supermarket]s don’t close.”

(Two other, rather burly employees block the entrance/exit door.)

Customer: *to them* “Outta the way!”

Burly Employees: “We’re closed.”

Customer: “[Supermarket]s don’t close!” *tries to get past them, but can’t*

Me: “This one does, you ignorant motherf*****!”

(He finally turns away and starts heading back to his car, but pauses to yell one more broadside over his shoulder at the employees.)

Man: “You’re all idiots! [Supermarket]s DON’T CLOSE!”

(In my day job, I’m a radio personality. Sadly, sitting on my butt talking doesn’t pay a lot, so in my night job, I work at the local grocery store. I’m stocking shelves one night when a customer comes up to me.)

Customer: “So, when are you coming over to my place?”

Me: “Excuse me, sir?”

Customer: “Well, I know you’re the guy from the radio. You’re doing like those TV shows, right? You’re going undercover at a dirty job so you can talk about it on the radio? Well, I want in on this. I want you to come work a few shifts at my business for this bit.”

Me: “Um… No. I actually do work here, sir.”

Customer: “Wait, what? But why?”

Me: “Because money’s tight and I’ve got bills to pay.”

Customer: “No. NO! This will not do. You’re, like, the best guy on the radio. Tomorrow, I’m going to call the station, talk to your boss, and get you a raise so you don’t have to do this anymore!”

(I don’t think he ever talked to my boss, because I never did get that raise. However, the new contract I recently signed does ban me from getting a second job.)

(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.”