(This happens about two minutes before we close. My coworkers and I are in the back of our department in the garden section discussing the recent World Cup match with Portugal when we hear a customer yelling.)

Customer: “Hello?! HELLO?!”

(A coworker and I walk around to see what is going on. Finally, we find the yelling customer in the middle of the department just standing by the Vincas — a type of flower. She is already very clearly upset about something.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am, did you need any help?”

Customer: “Yes, I want these in white but you don’t have any in here; they are only outside.”

(I don’t realize that the gate is locked.)

Me: “Well, then, you can grab them from outside. They should be on the first table to the right as soon as you walk out the gate.”

Customer: “Well, how am I supposed to get out there?!”

(I now see the gate locked.)

Me: “Oh, I am sorry. They did not tell us that they had locked our gate. We can go around there and see them if you’d like. We can go through our service gate over here.”

Coworker: “How many did you want? I can run out there and get them for you.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t f****** know until I see them! You know what? F*** it! F*** both of you. Obviously, no one wants to help me. I am done shopping at [Company]. You just don’t care about the customers!”

(She stormed off while giving us both the finger, leaving my coworker and me just standing there with our jaws open.)

(My family and I are on holiday visiting a craft village. We are currently in a kitchenware shop and I’m standing next to a “Le Creuset” crockery display distinguishable by its bright orange colour. I have a pram with a child inside and I’m holding my other child. I’m wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops.)

Customer: “Excuse me. Do you know how much this set is?”

Me: “Erm, no, sorry. I don’t have a clue.”

Customer: “Do you not work here?”

Me: “No!”

Customer: “Oh, right, it’s just because your t-shirt is the same colour as the crockery.”

(This happened about five years ago and has confused me ever since.)

I do landscaping for a major chain restaurant and I notice that a tree has Borers and needs an injection. I tell the managing partner, who informs me she does not want to spend the $50. I tell her the tree will die, and she repeats that she does not want to spend any money. I tell her she can call any tree company, pick one out of the phone book, or ask friends, but the tree needs the injection or else.

She continues to say she does not want to spend any money. I give up; she is the customer and is therefore always right.

The following season, I am at the restaurant having dinner, and she sits down and asks why the tree is dead. I reminded her of last fall’s conversation, and she is pissed at me. She says she’s going to “rip the d*** thing out of the ground.”

I just keep my mouth shut and think of how she saved $50 at a cost of $700 to remove and replace the dead tree.

(After Hurricane Katrina, my church sends a group of volunteers several times to a “sister parish” in Mississippi to help clean up and rebuild. During one such trip, I drive with a younger priest originally from Vietnam to the nearby home improvement store to buy some supplies we need and pick up some stuff ordered previously. We go up to the business desk where the clerk and priest greet each other, obviously knowing each other well. After the clerk rings up the purchases, the priest and clerk immediately begin serious dickering over the total. After much back and forth, eventually, they settle on about 10% off after the priest promises to officiate the weddings of both the clerk’s children for free. Just then, the priest remembers something we have forgotten and runs off to get it.)

Me: “You know, the church doesn’t actually charge for weddings.”

(Note: they do suggest a stipend.)

Clerk: “Oh, I know that. We would have given you guys the 10% off, anyway, but Father loves to dicker, so I let him have his fun!”

(I’m at a home improvement store to return some paint after deciding the color didn’t look right. I get in line behind an older man with a cart full of paint. He has four one-gallon cans and one quart can. I have no idea why he is in the return line, as colored paint is non-returnable. The clerk calls for the next person and it is his turn. He tells the clerk that one of the one-gallon cans is empty and only there as a color match — odd because you really only need the lid. She begins to ring up his items for sale when he tells her he’s a veteran.)

Clerk: “Okay, I’ll need your service photo ID.”

Customer: *starts fumbling through his wallet* “I don’t have it with me. But I have…”

(He empties his wallet of all kinds of cards onto the return desk, none of which are the requested ID.)

Clerk: “I’m sorry, sir, but I have to have the photo ID. It is our policy so I can apply the discount.”

Customer: “I have this card, this card, this card…”

Clerk: “Sir, it has to be their photo ID.”

Customer: *still pushing other cards at her*

Clerk: “Sir, if you want me to apply the 5% discount, I have to see your service card with a photo ID.”

Customer: *now getting agitated, begins to make exaggerated gestures to the regular checkouts on the other end of the store* “Well, they applied it last time and I didn’t have it.”

Clerk: “Whoever it was shouldn’t have.”

Customer: “Ma’am, I’m a veteran. I served my country. I did my time. Why would I lie about my service? I served my country.”

(This sounds like a scam. I want to say, “Why would you lie about being a veteran? Oh, I don’t know… maybe for a 5% discount?”)

Clerk: “I can’t apply the discount without the ID.”

Customer: *goes into a full, loud rant and throws his credit card at her, accepting that he’ll have to pay the full price* “This is disgraceful! Disgraceful. I’m going to call in a complaint. I will.”

Clerk: “Certainly, sir. Please sign here.”

Customer: “Disgraceful. I’m going to complain about you!”

Clerk: “Okay, sir.” *directs her attention to the line that has grown behind me* “Next.”

(I state my transaction while he is leaving. Once he’s gone:)

Me: “Did you want me to put a call in to counter his complaint?”

Clerk: *laughs* “No, it’s all right.”

(I did, anyway. It was probably an empty threat, but I didn’t want her to get in trouble for upholding policy.)