(I’m standing in the queue at a popular supermarket chain. It’s busy, and I’ve got my four-year-old daughter with me in her pushchair. She’s clutching a pack of kids drinks I’m about to buy her, and she asks me if she can have one, to which I reply, “Wait until we’ve paid for them,” which she accepts and goes back to sitting there quietly. Her pushchair is a special-needs one, so it takes up more room than the average pushchair, and as we are backing up against one of the shelves and there are a fair few people behind me, I leave a small gap in front of me so people can get through. Then, a woman comes and stands in the gap in front of me, and the following exchange happens:)

Me: “Excuse me, the queue is back here.”

Customer: *ignores me*

Me: “Hey, I’m talking to you, woman in the green t-shirt who is pretending she can’t hear me.”

Customer: *turning round* “Oh, I’ve only got one thing and I’ve got to get back to work. Let me go in front of you.” *I only have two things myself*

Me: “Here’s the thing. I’ve just been telling my daughter that she needs to be patient until she can have her drink because we haven’t paid for them yet, and she’s been sitting here quietly waiting. If I let you go in front of me, what kind of message does that send her?”

Customer: “Well, I’m not moving. What are you going to do about it?”

Me: *loudly* “Well, there’s nothing I can do, if you are okay with having worse manners than a four-year-old.”

(At this point everyone in the queue was staring at her and giving her dirty looks. She looked embarrassed and slumped off to the back of the queue, muttering to herself.)

(My dad and I are grabbing a shopping cart before we head into the grocery store. These carts have a slot to insert a quarter, so that they can be unhooked. It’s to prevent the carts from being stuck out in the parking lot, usually. I overhear an elderly man say, referring to these carts:)

Old Man: “What’s next? They’re going to get us to pay for shopping here, too?”

(The store I work in is a bulk foods grocery store. We have two types of clientele: general retail and wholesale — customers who order freight deliveries from our warehouse.The customer I’m dealing with fits into the latter category.)

Me: “Good morning, ma’am! Finding everything you need today?”

Customer: “No… I forgot to order a delivery this week and I’m almost out of a lot of supplies, so here I am.”

Me: “Let’s a take a look at your list and we’ll see what we can come up with, okay?”

(We spend the next half-hour or so going through her shopping list and, as is expected, most of the items she normally orders out of the warehouse are not carried by the store, so I help her find comparable items. The customer is becoming increasingly frazzled as we go on, but is maintaining her composure. Finally, we reach the end of the list.)

Me: “All right, ma’am, looks like you’re all set. Anything else I can do for you?”

Customer: *obviously holding back anger* “No, but I guess this will have to do, won’t it?!”

(I apologize profusely and again offer some assistance, as I’m expecting her to start screaming at any moment.)

Me: “Again, I’m terribly sorry, ma’am.”

Customer: *takes a breath* “Don’t be. It’s my own d*** fault. This is what I get for not putting in an order in time. I knew I had to do it this weekend, and I put it off. Oh well.”

Me: *slightly taken aback* “Oh, uh… Well, hopefully it all works out in the end for you. Have a great day!”

(I head back to the stock room to finish my morning tasks. My shock must be obvious because my coworker gives me a concerned look.)

Coworker: “[My Name], are you okay?”

Me: “No. I think I’m in The Twilight Zone.”

Coworker: “What just happened?”

(I relay the story to my coworker who looks just as shocked as I feel.)

Coworker: “There’s no way that happened.”

Me: “A customer actually owning up to their own mistakes. Hell, I wouldn’t believe if I hadn’t just seen it.”

(I am a cashier working the night shift. The store I work at installed chip readers last year, but people are still having trouble using them. A customer approaches my checkout stand at about 11 pm with his girlfriend, and I ring them up.)

Me: “Your total today comes to [total].”

Customer: “Okay. Slide or chip?”

Me: “Chip.”

(The customer proceeds to insert his card into the chip reader. It gives him an error message and tells him to remove the card. He tries again, only to get the same error. Visibly frustrated, he actually LICKS his card and sticks it back in!)

Me: “Did… Did you just lick your card?”

Customer: “Yeah. It upsets the machine and lets me swipe my card.”

(He swipes his card and it works.)

Girlfriend: “I feel uncomfortable.”

(I work in the bakery department of a grocery store. To meet with supply and demand, all of our dough is made at a factory and sent to us. I often have to explain to customers that we are not a scratch bakery. This customer just isn’t getting it.)

Customer: “Can you make me a bread without [ingredient]?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but the dough comes to us from a factory.”

Customer: “Tell the people in the back that I want one special.”

Me: “All of our dough is made in a factory and shipped to us.”

Customer: “Can you contact them and tell them that there’s a customer who wants one that’s specially made?”

Me: “I can’t. The dough is made in a factory.”

Customer: “No. Just tell them that I want one that doesn’t have [certain ingredient].”

Me: “They are not able to do that.”

Customer: “Call them and tell them that I want one specially made.”

Me: “It’s made in a big container in a factory. Not by hand. All of our dough is made in a big factory.”

Customer: “Oh, it’s made in a factory. Never mind.”

(Face, meet palm. Palm, meet face.)