My husband is trying on clothes, and I’m grabbing different sizes for him while he’s in the fitting room. I’m wearing a very bright cardigan and carrying a very bright orange purse. I’m neatly putting away the things I don’t need because I’ve worked in retail and it’s just courteous.

Customer: “Does this material have much stretch to it?”

Me: “Sorry, I don’t work here.”

Customer: “Oh. Sorry. I hate when that happens.”

Less than five minutes later, just outside the fitting room:

Same Customer: “Miss, you work here, right? Do you have this in another size?”

Me: “Nope. Still don’t work here.”

It’s lunchtime and I’m going through a popular fast food drive-thru with my two small kids. I’m from out of town and we’re trying to head home, so fast food is the best option for us. I order, and the girl confirms my order and has me pull forward. Judging by the voice, it’s the same person who took my order.

Employee: “Hi there! Your total is $11.74.”

I hand over my card. The employee stares at my card in her hand for a moment.

Employee: “Oh, did they not tell you we can’t take this right now?”

I’m confused because I know she took my order, so she was the one who didn’t tell me. I also know there was no sign by the speaker or menu saying that they aren’t accepting cards.

Me: “Um, no?”

Employee: “Do you have another way to pay?”

I’m completely thrown off, but I’m trying to be polite.

Me: “I don’t have that much cash. Er… My bank doesn’t have a branch here, so I’ll have to figure it out. I’ll have to come back.”

Employee: “Do you want us to hold your order for you? I can have them hold your food at the counter inside.”

I’d rather just reorder to ensure I get fresh food.

Me: “Uh… No, that’s okay. I’m not sure how long it will take for me to come back. Thanks.”

Employee: “Oh, okay.” 

Her tone of voice, while not rude, made it clear she was done speaking with me. I decided not to go back and just got food elsewhere since she didn’t apologize for the situation at all. Plus, I didn’t want to have to pay an ATM fee anywhere or have to get out of the car with a two- and three-year-old.

I’m pretty sure the person in line ahead of me paid with a card, but maybe it was a gift card? It felt weird to me, almost as if she were making an excuse not to accept my card. It’s a decent-sized city, so it’s not like seeing an out-of-town debit card would be a reason to deny my card.

I work in a self-serve ice cream store. We have fifteen flavors that are swapped out every two weeks. They all have somewhat different names; i.e. we don’t have “vanilla,” but we have “Tahitian vanilla,” which tastes identical to regular vanilla. We also do samples for customers who are indecisive. An older man walks into the store, alone.

Me: “Good morning, sir! Welcome to [Business]!”

Customer: “Mornin.’”

I see him carefully observing all of the signs, toppings, and flavors we have, which is usually a sign that they have never been here before.

Me: “Sir, have you ever been here before?”

Customer: “Nope.”

Me: “Oh, well, let me come around to the front and give you an explanation!”

I go through the entire spiel and once I’m done, I notice him take a self-serve bowl.

Me: “Can I get you any samples, sir?”

Customer: “Do you have any chocolate? My wife sent me here and she wants chocolate.”

Me: “Yep, we have ‘triple chocolate’ in the first machine. It’s really yummy.”

Customer: “No! That’s not what I asked for! She wants just chocolate!”

Me: “I assure you, sir, it tastes like standard chocolate ice cream.”

Customer: “She’s not going to like it because it’s not what she asked for! Just forget it!”

The customer slams the cup down on a nearby table and storms out.

Me: “Have a nice day, sir!”

My manager, who must’ve seen the whole thing on the security camera live-feed, pokes her head out from the back.

Manager: “What was that all about?”

Me: “He wanted chocolate and not triple chocolate.”

Manager: “But they taste the same!”

Me: “That’s what I told him.”

Manager: “Weird.”

My manager goes back into her office. I take the cup the man had touched and throw it out, and then I go back behind the counter. No sooner do I get back there than the old man comes storming back inside.

Customer: “Do you still have my cup?!”

Me: “No, sir, I threw it out due to the fact that it was unsanitary.”

Customer: “Well, that was a stupid thing to do; now I need to get a new cup! I talked to my wife. She was fine with triple chocolate.”

I’m working on a project at home and slice my thumb pretty bad. Don’t play with Exacto knives, kids! After forty-five minutes, the bleeding still hasn’t stopped, so my husband and I decide to head to the ER to see if I need stitches. 

Fortunately, the doctor is able to glue it back together and I don’t need stitches after all, but I do need a Tetanus shot. The doctor leaves the room and the nurse comes in.

Nurse: “Which arm would you like it in, sweetie?”

Me: “Is it going to cause any muscle soreness tomorrow?”

I ask her this because I’m a photographer and need to use my right arm. I know some shots have this side effect but can’t remember for sure. If it’s not going to cause soreness, then I prefer it in my right arm since I cut my left thumb and don’t want to double up on the discomfort, but if it is going to be sore, then I do want it in my left so my right arm can still be functional for work the next day.

I probably should explain all that, but it’s 1:00 am and I’m tired. 

Nurse: “Oh, no, you’ll be fine!”

Me: “Okay, right arm, then.”

She gives me the shot and is cleaning up and getting ready to leave when the doctor comes back in with my discharge instructions. 

Doctor: “Okay, so, your arm is going to be pretty sore tomorrow from the shot, but don’t worry; that’s completely normal.”

The nurse freezes in the doorway when he says this, and I look at her in shock. 

Nurse: *Muttering* “Rats, almost made it.”

Me: *Incredulous* “You dirty liar!”

I say this very jokingly because we’ve been lighthearted all along and in the grand scheme of things this doesn’t really matter much. 

Nurse: “If I had told you that you’d be sore, you would have refused the shot!”

I sigh over-dramatically, turning to the doctor.

Me: “I’m gonna need a work note.”

I work self-checkout and hear many times through the day how “unethical” it is and how I’m “supporting the loss of jobs.” I normally just bow my head and apologize but keep doing my job.

A gentleman approaches and tells me not-too-kindly:

Customer: “You! Ring me up!”

I point to the open self-checkouts.

Me: “Sir, the self-checkouts are open for you to use.”

Customer: “You need more g**d*** registers open!”

Me: “We have as many as we can, sir; we are understaffed today.”

Customer: “That is not good enough!”

Me: “We are hiring, sir. That’s the only way to remedy the situation.”

Customer: “Using the self-checks means I am doing your job for you!”

Me: “Well, then fill out an application and you can get paid for it.”

My managers know I’m not normally this much of a smarta**, so I doubt they believed him when he went to them. Made my day.