The deli is about to close up. This guy comes up.

Customer: “Get me a liter of ham.”

I pause, thinking I heard wrong.

Me: “Oh, a pound of ham?”

Customer: “No, I said a liter of ham.”

My gears are really turning.

Me: “Do you mean the ham salad we sell in the cups?”

Customer: “Nope. I want very thin sliced ham. A liter of it.”

Me: “That’s a liquid measurement. What you want can only be obtained if we have a food processor, which we do not.”

Customer: *Getting angry* “You must be new! That’s what my wife told me, and that’s what I want to get.” 

Me: “Look, I’ll slice you up a pound of ham. If I’m wrong, you or your wife can come back, and we’ll refund you and give you whatever it is you’re asking for.”

He agreed. 

He never came back.

His wife probably thought he was an idiot.

An older lady customer approaches me as I stock items in our cutlery section.

Customer: “Oh, excuse me! Can you tell me where I can find [produce item]?”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t work in the produce department, but I can walk you over to one of my coworkers who—”

Customer: “I was just over there, but all the workers there couldn’t help me.”

Me: “That’s strange. I happen to know four people working in the produce department today. Let’s go see if we can find—”

Customer: *Insistent* “No, it needs to be you! I want you to help me!”

Me: “But I don’t know where [item] is, ma’am. Why does it have to be me?”

Customer: “Because you’re an American! Those other people were… not!”

Me: “Ma’am, are you saying that because I am white, and my coworkers in produce are Black and Asian?”

Customer: “Don’t make me sound like I’m racist!”

Me: “Oh, don’t worry, you’re doing that all on your own.”

Customer: “Look, I’m not trying to make a fuss! Just show me there [item] is without attacking my opinion!”

Me: “I’d try to share my opinion, too, ma’am, but I wasn’t born with enough middle fingers to express myself in this case.”

Customer: “That’s so offensive! Get me your manager!”

Me: “Yes, I’ll go get my manager because I’m the offensive one.” 

The look on her face when she met my manager, Mr. Myeong, was priceless…

Customer: “I need to complain! This cheese expired in 1123!”

Me: “That’s November of 2023.”

Customer: “Oh… Well, they should make it clearer!”

Me: “Sure, I’ll tell them to make it clearer that our cheese isn’t nine hundred years old.”

I’m working at the checkout at a grocery store in early January. The holidays have been very indulgent, so I am trying to eat healthier to recover from it! I am checking out a customer’s items when a coworker swings by and offers one of the many chocolates that have been left for staff over the holidays that we’re STILL trying to get through.

Me: *To my coworker* “Oh, no, thank you. I’m trying to lose weight.”

Customer: “Oh, so you’re fatphobic. How sad.”

Me: “What? No, not at all. I’m just trying to go easier with the candies after the holidays, and—”

Customer: “If you don’t like candy, then fine, but you just said you’re trying to lose weight, which means you find extra weight disgusting, which means you think fat people are disgusting, which makes you disgusting.” 

I have to admit that it takes me a while to respond as I come to grips with all of those warped leaps of logic. Thankfully, my coworker is still around.

Coworker: “That is not what she was saying! She just wants to be healthier after the holidays! Seriously, calm down!”

Customer: “You’re the reason so many women suffer with self-image. You think being thinner is more desirable, so you starve yourself to achieve unrealistic beauty standards, and it forces society to see all larger women as undesirable and disgusting. So sad. You need to try better.”

And with that, the customer just leaves without taking any of their stuff.

Coworker: “Wow… What the h*** was that?!”

Me: “I don’t know, but give me one of those candies. I think I’ve earned it after that…”

One of my coworkers is from England but has lived in the USA for about a year since marrying an American. She is working the cheese counter when a customer comes over.

Customer: “How much is a pound of cheddar?”

English Coworker: “Depends how much it weighs.”

The customer looks confused, and I just laugh.

English Coworker: “Wait… no. Shush! I’m from England! That would make sense in England!”

Me: “Wait… that makes it even worse!”