My Danish friend is visiting me. It’s his first time in the USA, and we are both enjoying the cultural exchange. He is totally amazed by our grocery stores, how big they are, and that we have a whole aisle dedicated to cereal.

We are finally checking out, and a very large man is in the line ahead of us. I point out his size because of what he says next.

Customer: “The condensed milk is on sale!”

Cashier: “[Brand] condensed milk is on sale. This is [Other Brand]. Would you like me to get someone to get those for you?”

Customer: “Yes, please! I need sixteen cans and I can’t afford them at full price.”

The cashier calls someone to assist, but the customer keeps on sharing.

Customer: “I’m trying to get up to 450 lbs! If I weigh more than that, I can get medical leave from my job and a disabled badge! No more walking through the parking lot for me!”

The customer laughs like this is a totally normal thing. The cashier remains politely silent. I turn to my Danish friend who looks totally shocked.

Me: “Welcome to America!”

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I am approaching the checkout area at the grocery store where I work to assist the cashiers. I am passing the bread aisle and I see something that makes me stop.

An older woman is checking out the bread on the lower shelves. To make it easier for her, she has taken some whole loaves of bread and placed them on the floor, and then she has placed her knees on top of them, using them as padding and totally crushing them in the process.

Me: “I hope you’re intending to buy those loaves you’ve just crushed, ma’am.”

Customer: *Looking up and me and blinking obliviously* “What?”

Me: “Those loaves under your knees that you’ve turned into flatbreads.”

Customer: “Oh. I don’t want them.”

Me: “And neither will anyone else after what you’ve done to them.”

Customer: “I don’t think I like your tone.”

Me: “My tone is remarkably calm, ma’am. You will be purchasing those loaves or you will be banned from the store.”

Customer: “I want to talk to your manager!”

Me: “I am the floor manager, today, ma’am. I am heading over to the checkouts to assist the cashiers, and I will be informing them all that you are to be charged for two loaves of bread regardless of whether you have them with you or not.”

The customer stared daggers at me but simply tutted and wandered off. I rushed over to help the cashiers and kept an eye out for Ms. Knee(ded)-Bread.

She wandered over, saw me, and proceeded to use the checkout furthest from me. Since I was only assisting a cashier and not manning a lane by myself, I excused myself and headed over to the checkout where the woman had lined up.

She saw me, scowled, and decided she needed to do more shopping.

She repeated this game three more times and for another hour before she gave up and was charged for the two loaves of bread, which she had decided to actually bring with her.

We later found them in the trash.

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In the early 2000s, I worked in a grocery chain pharmacy. While I didn’t witness this story, it happened while I worked there, and I knew the employees involved.

One of the pharmacists at another store, Larry, was an old-timer close to retirement. He was a nice guy, quiet, and very laid back.

One day, someone decided to rob the pharmacy.

The robber handed the pharmacy technician a note demanding all of the [drug #1]. I think it was implied he had a weapon, but it’s been so long that I don’t really remember. Either way, the tech was terrified and completely froze. In stepped Larry, who read the note and calmly looked the robber dead in the eye.

Larry: “Sorry, we’re out.”

They most definitely were not out as that medication was a “fast mover” and, had he known what to look for, the robber would have seen a large jar of it in plain view on an end shelf.

Robber: “Well… give me the [drug #2]!”

Larry: “Nope. Out of that one, too.”

Rinse and repeat a couple more times before the robber gave up and tried to run out of the store. Somehow, Larry notified other staff about what was happening, and [Grocery Manager] and [Store Manager] chased the robber down in the parking lot where [Grocery Manager] — a VERY large man — literally sat on him until police arrived.

The tech was severely shaken and sent home for the day while Larry insisted on getting back to work.

And that’s the day we learned Larry had no more f***s to give.

My daughter has Asperger’s Syndrome. She doesn’t like walking around a public area without someone to talk to; otherwise, she will start to panic. She also has trouble working out people’s facial expressions; she’s told me that she understands that when people smile they are happy and when they frown they are sad, but she doesn’t know what it means for her if someone does this when talking to her. As you can expect, face masks have made this even more difficult for her.

[Daughter] also has problems understanding social situations and will, if she feels scared or threatened, start to react. We both feel bad about this, but the best way I can describe this is akin to a dog biting someone that provokes them. [Daughter] usually says the first thing that comes to her mind when she is frightened.

I am driving [Daughter] back to her house when we have to stop off at the local supermarket. She goes in by herself. I completely trust her to do this, as she knows not to push people out of the way and knows to go to the employees if she is stuck.

When she gets to the till, the cashier is wearing a mask. [Daughter] makes happy small talk with her until it is time to pay.

As [Daughter] has a lot of shopping and the plastic barriers are still up, she does not know where to place the money. She extends her arm over the top of the shopping, a good foot or more, placing the money as close as she can to the counter, perhaps a couple of inches away. I do not know how far it was. As soon as she places the money down, the cashier stares at [Daughter].

[Daughter] thinks that because the cashier is looking at her, she can’t see the money, so she innocently smiles and points.

Daughter: “It’s over there.”

Cashier: “You have some attitude, you know that?”

Daughter: *Getting tense and scared* “I don’t—”

Cashier: “You throw money at me and say, ‘It’s over there!’”

[Daughter] doesn’t quite remember exactly what happened next, but she defensively replies:

Daughter: “I wasn’t, p***head!”

The cashier shouted back at [Daughter], leading to another employee continuing the transaction. [Daughter] came back to the car almost in tears because, apart from swearing, she didn’t know what she had done wrong. She admits that it was wrong to swear, but she was confused and scared by this stranger shouting at her and, as I said, it was like an animal being provoked. [Daughter] was more upset by feeling as if she had angered someone.

Because of this incident, [Daughter] now has a special badge that tells people she is disabled.

Customer: “Can we have the gouda cheese, please?”

Me: “We have this smoked gouda here that’s quite popular.”

Customer: “Could you take the smoke out of the gouda?”

Me: “You mean do we have non-smoked gouda?”

No. They wanted us to take the literal smoke flavor out.