I work in the bakery of a grocery store. Every day, we pull the items that expire the next day and mark them 50% off and put them on our 50%-off rack.

Bakery Manager: “I thought you should know, [Store Manager] said he got a phone call complaining about our department.”

Me: “Oh? What was the problem?”

Bakery Manager: “Well, it seems that a customer purchased a pie off of our 50%-off rack and was mad that it didn’t taste freshly-made.”

The customer comes to my register, places her purchases on the lane, and shows me a plastic case of cherry tomatoes.

Customer: “I just noticed one of these tomatoes has gone bad. Could I get a discount?”

Me: “Unless that’s the only case of tomatoes left, I’m sorry, but I can’t. Would you like to go get a new case?”

Customer: “Oh, no, I’m in too much hurry! Are you sure you can’t do anything?”

Me: “I’m sorry. I’m not even authorized to give discounts. I’d have to phone someone who’d just tell you to get a new box.”

Customer: “That won’t do. I don’t want them, then. I just don’t have time.”

The customer didn’t buy the cherry tomatoes. I rang her through extra fast, seeing as she seemed to be very busy. After the customer paid, I noticed her staying around for at least fifteen minutes, happily chatting with someone, before leaving.

(This is right after I started working in the Bakery of a popular grocery store chain. A man approaches the counter.)
Guy: I’m here to pick up a dozen half-baked chocolate chip cookies.
Me: Uhh. . .what?
(The guy explains that he places orders every Wednesday for half-baked chocolate chip cookies, due to him having a boxing class. He rewards the class with these cookies. I search for where I’m told our orders are placed for pickup but can’t find it.)
Guy: *exasperated* I can’t believe this!! This happens every week. I don’t know why I bother!
Me: Would you like me to call a manager? I only just started, so he might know more about this.
Guy: Yes!
(I call the manager and he does a slightly more thorough search. Turns out the cookies were in the freezer where pickups usually were, but it was on top of a tall stack of boxes and I hadn’t seen it. After he leaves I have a discussion with the manager and come to the conclusion that the Bakery’s communication is lax. After this incident it clears up, and the following week. . .)
Me: *noticing the same guy is on the way, I go to the freezer preemptively and retrieve the cookies, and have the price tag already printing out by the time he gets there*
Guy: *gets a huge grin as he takes the cookies without any hassle or waiting whatsoever* Wow, that was way better than last time.
Me: Yeah, well, now that I know what I’m doing. . .
(I worked there for six months and he was there every Wednesday for his half-baked cookies. Once I asked him about why he wanted those cookies exactly, he told me that they were the greatest at that consistency and asked me to try one. I’m not a big cookie eater but he was so insistent I took one anyway. Just goes to show that sometimes an initially irate customer is actually a very good person, they just need an opportunity to show it.)

I am working the checkout at a very large and busy grocery store. Due to a few weeks of panic buying and people needing to protect themselves from infection, our store has taken some safety measures for the staff.

All the checkouts have clear plastic shields between our faces and customers, with only our hands free to handle the items. We also all have bottles of hand sanitizer to use on our hands on a regular basis.

Before I start to scan the items of a snooty-looking woman, I pump and rub some sanitizer.

Customer: “How dare you?!”

Me: “Pardon, ma’am?”

Customer: “I am not infected! I am clean and hygienic!”

Me: “It’s just hand sanitizer, ma’am. I use it every few customers; it’s nothing personal.”

Customer: “No! You think I have the disease, don’t you?! I am not the type to get diseases! I am clean and I am not poor!”

Shocked at this outburst, I just start trying to scan her items as quickly as possible. She then starts rapping her — unprotected — hands against the plastic barrier.

Customer: “And this! What is this!”

Me: “Perspex, ma’am.”

Customer: “This is insulting! Why do you get all the protection?! Where is my protection?!”

Me: “Ma’am, that is there because I handle thousands of products and hundreds of customers every day. We need to protect ourselves at the moment.”

Customer: “That is unfair! Why don’t I get protection when I come out?!”

Me: “You can wear a mask and gloves, ma’am.”

Customer: “I shouldn’t have to! You should be providing them for us!”

Me: “Ma’am, I have scanned your items, and will not be arguing this point with you further. Your total is [total]. Cash or card?”

The customer looked outraged but paid huffily and started bagging her items. As she did so, I looked her in the eyes, pumped three large blobs of hand sanitizer, and slowly massaged my hands entirely. The look on her face as she left was worth it.

(My boyfriend and I are shopping in the organic section of a popular grocery store. While we’re shopping, we’re talking. My boyfriend has a very noticeable British accent; he’s also very pale. I’m Sicilian, so I get tan easily. A woman has been behind us, huffing.)

Me: Ma’am, is there a problem?

Customer: Yes! I’m so sick of illegals like him taking American jobs! *she glares at my boyfriend*

Me: Oh! He’s in the country legally from the UK. He’s not illegal.

Customer: Like I believe that! You got married to him so he can stay here and take jobs from good Americans. *to my boyfriend* GO BACK TO MEXICO!

Boyfriend: Em, ma’am, I’m English? I don’t even look Mexican!

Customer: *huffs* Stop lying to me, you f***ing beaner! You can only afford this organic food because you took jobs from Americans! I’m going to go get an employee.

(She storms off, and we think everything is ended, so we keep shopping as normal. A minute or so later, she comes back with an employee in tow.)

Customer: See! He’s a f***ing illegal Mexican! You need to kick him out RIGHT F***ING NOW, or I’m never coming back here. I spend hundreds of dollars here every week! KICK HIM OUT!

Boyfriend: This is ridiculous. I’ve explained to you that I’m English! My girlfriend here looks more Hispanic than I do.

Employee: *looking exhausted* Ma’am, he’s clearly British. We can’t kick him out, since he did nothing wrong. Please leave these people alone, or I’ll have to ask you to leave the store.

Customer: But I did nothing wrong! He’s a beaner! You HAVE to kick him out! *suddenly she stops and smiles* Speak Spanish.

Employee: Ma’am, please stop.

Customer: *when my boyfriend doesn’t speak Spanish, she lunges, and starts hitting him with her purse*

Employee: Ma’am! I have to ask you to leave. You can check out your items, but then, you have to leave and I can’t allow you back in the store.

Customer: BUT HE’S A BEANER!