I’ve just given my books to the cashier at the local used bookstore when the power goes out. After some mutual, “Oh, this sucks,” on both our parts, the cashier places a call to his boss, who tells him to go ahead and check out manually. So he pulls out a calculator and starts tallying up my total while I continue to browse.

There are enough windows in the building that it’s dim but not very dark inside. While I’m waiting for him to finish, three more customers wander in, and the following conversation takes place in an almost identical fashion each time.

Customer: “Hello, are you open today?”

Cashier: “Yes, we’re open. But there’s a power outage, so we can only take cash, not cards.”

Customer: “Oh… is that why it’s so dark in here?”

No, people, the store just likes to make you shop in the dark. I paid for my books and left before the power was restored, so I can only imagine how many more times the poor cashier had that same conversation before the lights came back on.

Related:
Their Brain Shut Down Along With The Power

I work overnights at a hotel and also manage a day job. Six days out of the week, I’m up for twelve to eighteen hours.

One day, I wake up later than expected and realize I have to be at work in twenty minutes. It takes me about fifteen minutes just to drive there, so I immediately text my coworker.

Me: “I’m so sorry, but I’m going to be five or ten minutes late. I’m really, really sorry!”

I get ready as fast as I can, taking my toothbrush, face wash, and makeup with me, so if I have a spare moment I can clean up better there.

The coworker texts me back.

Coworker: “Don’t worry! It’s okay.”

I arrive literally at 10:05; the shift starts at 10:00. As I turn my car off, I see a ton of text notifications. Most are from my coworker yelling at me for being late.

Coworker: “I had plans! It isn’t fair for me to have to stay later just for you!”

The other is from my manager.

Manager: “Are you all right? Your shift is starting in a minute. Do I need to find someone to cover for you?”

I am a little peeved at this, as I did warn my coworker and it was a genuine accident. I have never been late before, and I’m also nervous about getting in trouble for being late.

Rather than answer the text messages, I rush in and greet my coworker, apologizing as much as I can. I don’t offer excuses as I know it’s my fault for missing my alarm. My coworker just scowls at me and grabs her stuff and leaves, not bothering to tell me anything about her shift. We usually tell the new desk person if there were any complications, drama, problems, etc., and if there were none, it’s normal for us to just say so; that way the new front desk can get a feel of that kind of shift it will be and just be aware of any problems.

Just as she leaves, my phone rings and I see it’s the manager, so I answer.

Manager: “Are you all right?”

Me: “Yes. I’m at work, but I wanted to relieve [Coworker] before I responded to your texts.”

Manager: “Oh, I thought you would be later. I know you work two jobs, so I was afraid you got sick or majorly overslept. You’re okay. I’ll text [Coworker] and let her know that if it’s more than fifteen minutes, then she can contact me. Well, I’m glad you’re okay and at work. See you in the morning.” *Hangs up*

I then start my nightly routine, only to find a handwritten note, again from my coworker, calling me out on being late and explaining that it’s not fair or right for me to be late. While I do understand how annoying it is to stay later, it seriously gets under my skin because I was literally five minutes late. and I’ve stayed an hour or two later in the mornings because the morning front desk overslept. Also, I’ve come in early to relieve this same coworker because she was sick or had night events she wanted to go to.

In the morning, at the end of my shift, the manager comes in and I apologize once more to her.

Manager: “It’s okay. To be honest, by the way [Coworker ] told me you would be late, I was honestly expecting an hour or more. She was saying that you texted her right before her shift was to end and that you needed time to get ready, eat, and drive on over. And she said that she had something going on that she had to get home for. That’s why I was wondering if you needed someone to cover your shift or come in and cover for an hour so she could leave.”

Me: “Well, in the amount of time it would’ve taken for someone to come over and cover for me so she could leave, I probably would’ve arrived by then anyway.”

Manager: *Shrugging* “I suppose that’s true. Anyway, don’t worry about it. I was more concerned that you were sick or something. It was just five minutes, and you’ve stayed later or come in earlier in the past. Just don’t let it be a habit.”

I thanked her for understanding and promised it wouldn’t happen again, and then I went home. The next time that coworker asked me to come in early, I said no.

I’m working as a cashier at a new gas station. I’m from Utah but have come to Idaho to help my grandparents for a few months. I’m on my lunch break and a customer starts a conversation.

Customer: “You look pretty young to be working here.”

Me: “Well, I’m twenty and I actually already have my bachelor’s degree. I’m just working here while I help my grandparents.”

Customer: “Oh, you went to [Local University]?”

Me: “No, I’m from Utah and went to school down there. I majored in English, but if I hadn’t, I would have majored in bioengineering.”

Customer: “Oh, I guess I just stereotyped you. I assumed that since you were from Utah you were Mormon, but if you were going to do bioengineering, I guess not.”

I didn’t say anything, just sort of smiled and walked away. I’d never heard of such a thing. For the record, there are plenty of Mormons who are in scientific fields.

The steak house where I work offers a kid’s menu for which the age limit is ten. Customers order before sitting down to eliminate dine and dash. I’ve worked here for almost six months as a cashier. A lady and her son come in about an hour into my shift. I greet them and immediately get cut off by the customer.

Customer: “Adult salad bar, and he’s twelve.”

She nods to her son, who’s behind her and clearly older. I ring up two adult drinks and salad bars for them and give them their total, around $23.

Customer: “Are you kidding me? I said a salad bar for an adult, and he’s twelve.”

Me: “Ma’am, our age cutoff for the kids’ menu is ten.”

The lady then gets angry and starts borderline shouting at me.

Customer: “Are you kidding me?! It’s twelve. I think I would know. I come here at least four times a week.”

She rolls her eyes like I’m the idiot.

I work five to seven days a week and never once have seen her. My smart mouth almost says something rude.

Me: “I understand that, but our age cutoff is ten. You’re welcome to go look at the menu to see for yourself.”

It’s on a wall and pretty large!

Customer: “This is ridiculous! It’s twelve!”

She was now yelling. I rolled my eyes and gave her the three-dollar discount because I now had a line. Her server later came up complaining about how she told her to put the kid’s drink in an adult-sized cup to “save her so many trips.” Next time, she’s not getting the discount.

While on vacation in a resort town, my mom decides we’re going to go hit a few antique stores. One such store has some interesting items for sale, but everything is just stacked haphazardly all over, with some valuable items even piled outside in the rain and getting ruined. An employee — who looks to be the only one aside from the owner — comes up to us while we’re browsing.

Employee: “Can I help you find anything?”

Mom: “Oh, no, we’re just browsing. Things are kind of piled up everywhere, aren’t they?”

Employee: “Yeah, we used to be in the much bigger building next door. But business has been so bad that we couldn’t afford the rent for it, so we moved here. They’re putting in a mattress store over there; can you believe it? There’s no love or appreciation for small businesses anymore.”

Mom: “I’m sorry. Is that why there are things piled up outside?”

Employee: “Yeah, we had to move in a hurry. Hopefully, we’ll do better here and be able to afford a bigger place.”

Mom finally finds something she wants to purchase and goes to the register where the owner is waiting. But a local has just come into the store, and instead of helping my mom, the owner opts to make small talk with the local.

Mom: “I’m ready to pay.”

Owner: “Just a minute, honey.”

She resumed talking to the local.

We stood there for ten minutes, and the owner showed no inclination to end her conversation — which was in no way related to her business. Mom finally gave up, put her purchase back, and we left. Maybe people would appreciate your business more and enable you to afford your rent if you actually paid attention to paying customers.