(I have just finished bagging a fairly large load of groceries that were paid for with food stamps. As soon as this girl leaves the building, the next woman in line immediately complains to the cashier.)

Customer: “Lazy trash!”

Cashier: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “You know. That dumb b**** that was in front of me, buying things with those bull-s*** food stamps. I can’t stand lazy trash like that.”

Cashier: “I see…”

Customer: “I’ll have you know that I work hard for my money. I don’t collect checks sitting on my lazy a** all day, like she does. Probably wasted all of her normal money on drugs, or some s*** like that. Lazy trash!”

(As she continues checking out, she starts complaining about various other things, like the prices of certain items, or whether or not we bagged something correctly, or even the “poor customer service” she received the last time she shopped here. The poor cashier is just standing there, taking her abuse without even flinching. Meanwhile, I’m busy biting my tongue, because I don’t want to say anything that would cost me my job. At last, I finish bagging her groceries, she pays, and we hope that was the end of it.)

Cashier: “I hope you have a happy Valentine’s Day.”

Customer: “How dare you?”

Cashier: “…what?”

Customer: “I’ll have you know that saying that sort of thing is very offensive to those of us that don’t have anyone to be with!”

Cashier: “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

Customer: *cutting her off* “—well, maybe you should just keep your d*** mouth shut and do your job!”

(As she storms off, our supervisor, who has heard everything, walks over to us.)

Supervisor: “What the h*** was her problem?”

Me: *sarcastically* “I don’t know, but I can’t believe a woman like that would be single on Valentine’s Day.”

(I work at a grocery store that is undergoing renovation, set to end a few weeks before Christmas. There are many “moments,” but this one takes the everlasting chocolate fudge cake. By this point, we have finished the remodel, and it is January, when this guy decides to yell at a coworker and me.)

Customer: “This is ridiculous!”

Me: “Can I help you, sir?”

Customer: “Yeah. Why were you doing all this construction with people still in the store?”

Me: “Sir, during the remodel we closed the store at nine pm when the construction guys came in to work overnight, so there would be less of an inconvenience to our customers.”

Customer: *shouting in our faces* “Well, it was an inconvenience! You remodeled for six months! You should have just closed the whole d*** store while it was under construction!”

(He storms off before I can reply that we need our paychecks from working here, and there is no union.)

Coworker: *whispering to me* “What. The. F***?”

(About six months later, I found out from a woman who knew that customer that he was banished from the local ski mountain for being irritating and rude to their employees, and he was also a trust-funder who hadn’t worked a day in his life. As for the groceries that he found it annoying to buy during our renovation? BERRIES. And, he refuses to buy our strawberries if they’re not on sale. This guy still comes in, and is still an annoying a**hole.)

(I work behind the deli and bakery counter inside a larger grocery store. On the day of this incident, it is Sunday, when the department manager and the official cake decorator are not working, leaving me watching the cake counter and writing messages on the premade cakes for anyone who asks. A woman comes up and begins browsing huffily through the cookie cakes.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “Maybe. None of these cakes are really what I want. Do you have any more in the back?”

Me: “Not that are decorated. If you have a more specific design in mind, I can see if we have any blank ones.”

Customer: “DO THAT.”

(I proceed to the freezer, slightly mystified, as we really do cover a large number of generic designs in the cookie display. Still, I manage to locate a blank one and bring it out. I have already elected not to tell this woman that I am NOT, in fact, the primary cake decorator, as I am quite confident with my abilities with the writing, icing, and all that goes on a cookie cake.)

Me: “Here we go. Now, what design did you want?”

Customer: “I want this one.”

(She slaps a smartphone down on the counter, showing a clear image of a Confederate flag, which has been recently outlawed. Fortunately, red flags go off. I have seen this on Facebook. I am also stricken with visions of store managers storming over to the deli and demanding to know who would be so stupid as to put an illegal flag on a cake.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m fairly certain that’s an illegal design.”

Customer: “Yeah, I know. It’s stupid. [Grocery Store down the road] wouldn’t do it, either.”

Me: “Maybe I should check with a manager to be absolutely sure.”

Customer: “DO THAT.”

(I was correct; the design is forbidden by corporate. I come back with my assistant manager.)

Assistant Manager: “Ma’am, I’m not asking my employee to get fired to make one sale. She will be happy to add stars or stripes as a border.”

Customer: “FINE. Here, write, ‘Austin,’ on this.”

(She shoves a generic “Happy Birthday” cookie back over the counter.)

Me: *to myself* “Well, with that attitude…”

(I wrote the name on the cake and excused myself for a break. Not five minutes later, according to my coworkers, the woman returned and demanded that someone else write the name, instead, requiring that the first be scraped off. It looked terrible, but she took it and left, anyway.)

(I’m at the supermarket looking for a heat-proof bowl. I need it to melt chocolate, so it has to be both heat-proof and big enough for cake-baking. The aisle is looking pretty bare, so I look for someone to ask. Unfortunately, I get the most eager assistant in the store.)

Me: “I’m looking for a heat-proof baking bowl. Do you have anything in stock that I’m being stupid and can’t see?” *expecting it to be right in front of me — Sod’s Law*

Assistant: “Er, let’s see. Well, those bowls are heat-proof.”

Me: “These are cereal bowls. I’m looking for something bigger, like a baking bowl.”

Assistant: “Well, there are the baking bowls, but none of them are heat-proof.”

Me: *looking around* “Oh, actually, this one looks like it might do. Thanks!”

Assistant: “Are you sure? If you go to our store fifteen minutes away, they have a much wider selection.”

Me: “Oh, thanks. That’s okay. I don’t have a car, and I need to get the rest of the shopping home. This is close enough to what I was after; it will do what I need.”

Assistant: “Well, we have those cereal bowls, or the bigger bowls, or you can try our other store.”

Me: “Thanks, I think I’m all good.”

(I start to walk away.)

Assistant: “Do you want directions to our other store? I can call and make sure they have stock in.”

Me: “Honestly, thanks, I’ll just take this one.”

Assistant: “If you’re sure? We do have these baking bowls here, or the cereal bowls.”

Me: *edging further away* “No, that’s fine, thanks!”

(I’ve always found the people in that chain of supermarkets helpful, so I guess they have a really stringent policy on customer service, but as much as I appreciated his help, it got a bit wearing saying no that many times!)

(I am a keyholder for the store where I work. I am also on the list of people that the monitoring company calls if the alarm system activates, but I am a few people down on the list. I’ve already gone to sleep, and at about 4:00 am, my mobile phone starts ringing. It’s the monitoring company calling. I give them my name and voice code.)

Caller: “Hello, my name is [Caller], and I’m calling from [Security Company] monitoring centre.”

Me: “How can I help?”

Caller: “Just calling about an activated duress alarm on your premises, and wondering whether you would like us to send the police and patrol out, as we have not been able to reach the store, or the store mobile.”

Me: “Oh, s***! What keypad was the duress entered into, and who set it off?”

Caller: “It appears to be keypad two. We can’t see who entered it, just where it was entered into. There has also been no door activity there, either.”

(This begins to sound like a false alarm to me. I ask about the arming status of a couple other areas to try and paint a picture of what is happening. I decide to call the store.)

Me: “Hold on. I’ll try to call the store and see if I can find out what is happening.”

(Using another phone, I call the store twice. No answer. I try the third time, and get through.)

Coworker: “[Supermarket], [Town]. [Coworker] speaking.”

Me: “[Coworker]! It’s [My Name]! Is everything all right there? Someone’s activated the silent alarm.”

Coworker: “Really? I can’t hear it going off… but nothing’s wrong here.”

Me: *internally face-palming* “Is there a manager there?”

Coworker: “Umm… Yeah. Hold on.”

(I get placed on hold for a minute and a manager comes on.)

Manager: “Hey, what’s going on?”

Me: “Silent alarm is going off. Everything okay there?”

Manager: “Yeah. What alarm are you talking about? There’s no alarms going off on the keypad.”

Me: *groan* “Go to the loading dock and do what I tell you. It’ll reset the alarm and then I can go back to sleep.”

(I give the manager instructions, and then verify with the security company that the duress has been reset.)

Caller: “A closing signal was just received on our end. Thanks for your cooperation!”

Me: *to employee* “Good night.” *to manager* “I’ll deal with the report for the duress and talk to [Store Manager] about the alarm later. Good night.”

(Eight hours later, I received a call from the store manager and explained everything that happened that night. Reviewing the alarm printouts, it turns out that the manager that I spoke to that night was the one who tripped off the silent alarm, by keying in the code for the door wrong and activating the duress instead of just disarming the area needed. I’m still baffled that someone actually said to me, “I can’t hear the silent alarm going off.”)