(I’m the customer in this story. I’ve recently moved to a new state and applied to transfer my driver’s license. As such I’m having to use a temporary paper license until my new one is mailed to me.)

Cashier: *seeing I have a bottle of wine among my purchases* “Sir, can I see your ID for the alcohol?”

Me: “Sure.” *shows him the temporary license I have*

Cashier: “Umm, sir, that’s no good on its own. I need to see your old license, too, if you have it.”

Me: “Really? Umm… can I quickly dash out to my car and grab it? I’ll only be a moment.”

Cashier: *eyes me suspiciously* “You actually have it in your car? Not playing me here?”

Me: “Nope, swear to God. I have my old license right out in my car. If you can put my stuff aside I promise I’ll be right back.”

Cashier: *still suspicious* “Okay.”

(I run out, grab my old driver’s license, and run back inside. I join the back of the line at the cashier’s register, but upon seeing me he does a double take and gestures for me to come to the bagging area.)

Cashier: “Wow, you actually came back?”

Me: “Yep, here’s my old license. Really sorry if I held you up there. I’ve never had to transfer my license before so I didn’t know how it works if you only have a temporary one.”

(The cashier checks my ID, then looks at me with an odd expression. He looks to the wine, then just picks it up and puts it with my other stuff without ringing it up.)

Cashier: “Here, have a drink on me for being the one customer who actually acted sensibly when told there was a problem with his ID.”

Me: *amazed* “Uh… wow, really? You don’t have to do that.”

Cashier: “Sir, I wasn’t exaggerating there when I said you are the only one who didn’t throw a fit, or complain. Consider it a ‘gentleman’s discount.'”

(I made sure to enjoy that wine to the utmost. To that cashier, your gentlemanly customer empathizes with your plight and was glad to prove an exception to the rule.)

(I am helping a customer with her two children carry shopping bags out to her car.)

Customer: *to child* “Be careful on the road, sweety! Oh, here’s my car.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am. Have a lovely day!”

Customer: *in a babying tone* “Thank you, sweety. Be careful walking back.” *pats me on the head*

Me: “…”

Mother: “I’ve been spending way too much time with my kids.”

(I’m a cashier at a large supermarket. There are small charity donation tins at each register; upon receiving their change, customers often deposit their change in these tins.)

Me: “Okay, so your total is $28.40. How will you be paying today?”

Customer: “Cash.” *hands me $30*

Me: “Here’s your $1.60 change. Thank you, and have a nice day!”

Customer: “Wait. You aren’t one of those Satanists, are you?”

Me: “Umm… no? Why?”

Customer: “Good, I just wanted to be sure before donating.”

(The customer puts the change in the charity tin, smiling smugly and dripping with pomp. I feel somewhat unimpressed that this person was going to choose whether to donate or not based purely on my religious preferences rather than out of any kind of human decency or concern for the charity in question.)

Me: “Of course, I’m not a Christian either.” *waving cheerily as the customer backs away in horror and disgust* “Have a lovely day!”

(I’m stocking product in an aisle while two older gentlemen are browsing through it. One is practically shouting into his phone.)

Customer #1: *on phone* “HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF CHIPOLLETA ICE CREAM?”

Customer #2: “GELATO!”

Customer #1: *on phone* “GELATO ICE CREAM?”

(I’m only a witness to this encounter. While checking out at a self check out, another pair of customers is using the one to the side of me. They are obviously father and daughter, she looks very young. The father is buying a six pack of beer.)

Employee: “Sir, I don’t need to see your ID but I do need to see hers.”

Customer: “She’s my 10 year old daughter!”

Employee: “You can’t buy alcohol for a minor!”

Customer: “I’m not buying it for a minor; I’m buying it for myself. She’s 10 years old and my kid. Are you serious right now?”

Employee: “Sir, I cannot let you buy this alcohol for your daughter. She’s under-age.”

Customer: “Are you even listening? I am buying it for ME, not my 10-year-old daughter. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Employee: “I need to call my manager to figure out what to do here.”

(Several minutes later, the customer is fuming, and the manager turns up. At this point, I am just watching curiously.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “Your employee here refused to sell me alcohol and accused me of trying to buy it for my daughter!”

Employee: “No, he said it was for her!”

Me: “What? No, you said that you didn’t need to see his ID but that you did need to see hers. When he responded that she was his 10-year-old daughter, you said you couldn’t sell it to him. He has repeatedly told you that the alcohol was for himself, not her.”

Manager: “Really, [Employee], this is the third time we have gotten similar complaints. People are more than allowed to buy alcohol in the presence of their kids.”

(The employee and manager then argued for several minutes about what was and wasn’t allowed. I haven’t seen the employee in there since.)