I used to work as a sales representative for a popular ice cream company. I would have to drive to different grocery and convenience stores and pull the ice cream from their stock room freezers to replenish the floor stock. Then, I would place orders for what was needed and work with stores for upcoming sales.

I was in my second week of training and still had my boss with me as the trainer. I didn’t have my company clothes yet, so I was wearing a plain polo, a New York Mets hat, and khakis. I went into our biggest grocery partner in a kind of snooty neighborhood and started putting out my merchandise.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and it was a middle-aged lady.

Lady: “Where can I find the frozen spinach?”

Meanwhile, there were three store employees with the store name on their attire in the same section.

Me: “I’m not sure, but I would guess by the frozen vegetables.”

Lady: “You should know! And if you don’t, then you should escort me to that part of the store.”

Me: “I don’t work for the store. I’m actually a vendor for [Ice Cream Company].”

Lady: “Ice cream people don’t put out their own ice cream! I want to see your manager!”

I called over my boss, who was wearing our company logo.

Lady: “Your employee refuses to tell me where the frozen spinach is!”

Boss: *Politely* “We don’t work for [Grocery Store]; we’re vendors for [Ice Cream Company].”

Lady: “Ice cream people don’t put out their own ice cream! I demand to see a real manager!”

Someone went and got the store manager.

Store Manager: “What’s the issue, ma’am?”

Lady: “I want you to fire these two for lying to me and refusing to help me!”

Store Manager: “I can’t fire them; they’re vendors for an ice cream company.”

This lady blew a gasket and started screaming at us in the store.

Lady: “You’re gaslighting me by insisting that you work for an ice cream company! They don’t put out their own stock! I am never going to shop here again! I’m going to [Competitor]!”

She stormed off, leaving a full cart of groceries. My boss, the store’s manager, and I all looked at each other, dumbfounded.

A few weeks later, I saw her back in the same store, and this time I was wearing the company logo on two articles of clothing. She saw me coming and ducked down an aisle quickly to avoid me. To this day, I still don’t know why she picked that hill to die on. I also don’t understand why she was so insistent that ice cream vendors don’t merchandise their own products.

I am clearly not working in the deli section of our grocery store:

Customer #1: “Is this where I get sub sandwiches?”

Me: “That’s in the deli, on the other side of the store.”

Customer #2: “Do you have premade sandwiches?”

Me: “That’s in the deli, on the other side of the store.”

Customer #3: “Where are the rotisserie chickens?”

Me: “That’s in the deli, on the other side of the store.”

I work at a grocery store, but there’s a much cheaper store across the street where I do most of my shopping. Sometimes when I run into regular customers across the street at the cheap store, they’ll laugh and call me a traitor.

Only once did anyone mistake me for an employee of the cheaper store. She shouted at me from like four aisles away:

Customer: “HEY! WHERE ARE THE CHIPS?!”

I just rolled my eyes. If she’d asked me like I was a human being, I’d have helped her. I don’t work there, but I know where the chips are. But if you’re going to yell at me, h*** no.

I was grocery shopping on a busy weekend. I considered myself lucky to find a line with only two customers in it. The person in front was already paying, so they were basically done. The other customer was a lady with a pretty full cart, but I figured the wait wouldn’t be too bad with just one person, compared to the other lines backed down the aisles.

The first customer finished up right as I got in line. I saw the lady was pushing an empty cart in front of her while also pulling the completely loaded grocery cart behind her. There was also a pile of disposable chucks — like the kind you’d see in a hospital or to house train puppies on — sticking out of the cart, and I noticed that all the groceries currently on the conveyor were on top of the same chucks. The cashier greeted the customer, who then pulled what was presumably her own gallon-sized sanitizer from the bottom of the cart and had both the cashier and the bagger sanitize their hands with two massive squirts. She then handed each of them a pair of disposable gloves and would not proceed until they put the gloves on — and then she gave them more sanitizer on top of the gloves!

I then witnessed one of the most insane checkout experiences of my life. I try to have empathy and not to judge the different things people are doing to feel safe, but this was something else.

Everything — not just produce but boxes of cereal, cake mix, peanut butter, etc. — was already in what looked like at least two plastic produce bags. Even though they were already wearing gloves, the customer still did not want the cashier or bagger touching her things directly. She made the bagger hold a plastic bag to pick up her already bagged items, scan them, then pass them off to the bagger.

The bagger, however, couldn’t just hold the bag open to receive the items but had to hold a separate bag to touch the items and then use that bag to put them into double bags. She also interrupted them every few items to make them re-sanitize their hands. The bagger then placed each bag — which had to be about 40% plastic bag and 60% actual grocery content — into the empty cart, now lined with more disposable chucks, where the customer would wipe each bag down with a Clorox wipe.

At one point, the customer shoved what looked to me like twenty or thirty empty produce bags on the conveyor belt and told them to — you guessed it — bag the bags.

I’m pretty sure every single other customer who came into the grocery store at the same time as me had already left by the time this lady was all checked out. I considered moving lanes several times, but human stubbornness being what it is, after fifteen or so minutes I just decided I was in for the long haul, no matter what.

At the end of the transaction, she asked for help to her car. The bagger volunteered to do it, probably figuring it would save someone else getting subjected to this lady. I would’ve thought he had been sanitized enough at this point. Nope. She made him change his gloves and slather the new gloves with more sanitizer on the way out!

When it was finally my turn, I asked the cashier if that customer came through often. He said, “I’ve never had her until now, but yeah, she comes once a week or so. Chewed out my manager last time for suggesting she just get her groceries delivered. Sorry for the wait.”

I tried to give the guy a tip, but he said they weren’t allowed to accept. God bless the essential workers, for real.

I’m the rookie apprentice in a store meat department run by two thirty-plus-year pros. They’re good at being meat guys. When they grind our burger, individual trays typically weigh between .95 and 1.1 pounds, give or take, with some outliers in the .80s.

Today, a lady was digging through all our packs of ground beef on display looking very dissatisfied.

Me: “Can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “I’m trying to find one pound of beef, but the closest I can find is point 98! My recipe calls for a pound. I don’t understand why you do this. See? There’s all this extra room in the tray for the extra little bit!”

Wow. It was hard not to laugh. I was just bringing out a fresh cart of burger, so she had more options (settling on 1.03 pounds), but as she searched I tried to explain.

Me: “We don’t exactly weigh each tray as it’s ground, but the meat cutters do their best. It’s all by eye.”

I think she actually understood for the most part, but she definitely left slightly dissatisfied with her purchase of beef that wasn’t a perfect 1.00000000000000 pounds on weight.