I am at a chain pharmacy picking up prescriptions. I have a personal policy that I don’t grab a basket or a cart so I don’t pick up too many extra items, but unfortunately, I’m also creative. I’m there with my fiancée and we have our arms full of stuffed animals. We go to check out, and there are a few people ahead of us. The person first in line keeps having her purchases rung up, bagged, and then unbagged and rung up again. There’s a manager on standby to run his ID to cancel out the transaction again and again.

Cashier: “I’m sorry, it did it again. I don’t know what’s wrong with our system today.”

Customer: “I’d like to go home today!”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, but you’re not the first person that this has happened to today.”

Finally, the teller moves her to a different register so the rest of the line can check out.

Customer: “You need to fix this! My card works elsewhere!”

Cashier: “I have no ability to fix this; it’s a tech issue we’ve been having.”

We can hear her continue to yell as she’s about three feet away. I get my excessive purchases rung up and hand them to my fiancée. This customer clearly wants to go home, right? She doesn’t have a lot of items and I don’t mind paying so she can go home.

Me: “Excuse me, miss, but I’d like to pay for your purchases so you can go home. I just—”

Customer: “I’M NOT POOR! HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF BEING POOR?!”

She is looking around at the entire store to be sure she’s heard.

Me: “Miss, I didn’t accuse you of being poor. I know this is an issue with their system and my card did work, so I was trying to make it so you could go home.”

Customer: “I’M NOT POOR! I’M NOT POOR!”

Cashier: “It’s just a problem with our system.”

Me: “No, I understand. I just know that my card works.”

The cashier gives me a very tired look as the customer just keeps yelling, “I’m not poor!” at the top of her lungs.

Me: “Well, miss, I hope you get to go home soon. Have a nice night.”

Customer: “I’M. NOT. POOR!”

I shrug and walk out of the store. I can hear her screaming even after the doors have closed behind me. My fiancée has been waiting in the car for me.

Fiancée: “What took so long?”

Me: “I tried to be nice. Didn’t go great.”

In the nineties, I rented a room from an old lady of almost 100 years old, in exchange for doing her shopping and helping her with other small things. One day, she couldn’t pick up the phone herself for a moment, so I did. It was a telemarketer.

Me: “Residence of [Landlady].”

Telemarketer: “Can I interest your landlady in [Newspaper]?”

Me: “She’s not interested.”

Telemarketer: “I didn’t hear you ask her.”

Me: “I didn’t need to ask her; I know she doesn’t want a subscription.”

Telemarketer: “But I didn’t hear you asking her.”

Me: “She doesn’t want it.”

Telemarketer: “You didn’t ask her.”

Me: “I know she doesn’t want it.”

Telemarketer: “But you didn’t ask her. It’s a very good newspaper with interesting articles—”

Me: “She isn’t interested.”

Telemarketer: “You haven’t asked her. This is such a good newspaper; she’ll enjoy—”

Me: “She isn’t interested.”

Telemarketer: “You haven’t asked her. Why wouldn’t she be interested?”

Me: “She’s blind!”

Telemarketer: “Ehhh, no, then she wouldn’t be interested.”

They hung up.

I am in a store, shopping for my weekly groceries, when I feel a sharp hit on the back of my leg. I turn around, and a kid is kicking and hitting me repeatedly. I look over for a parent. Everyone here is now looking at the kid except for one couple; they’re arguing over whether a certain yogurt is organic or not.

Me: “Can you please stop hitting and kicking me?”

Kid: “No! I do what I want ’cause Mommy says I’m an angel!”

Other Woman: “More like a little devil.”

Eventually, the parents stopped arguing and moved to another aisle, and the boy followed them. Later on, I told an employee what happened. She sighed and told me she knew exactly who I meant. The boy had attacked other customers before, but nothing was ever done because no employee could catch him in the act. 

I really hope those parents wake up from Fantasyland soon.

My store has a clearance table where we place items that will soon expire or items we are taking out of inventory. Most are priced at 50-75% off for quick sale. There is a sign at the table stating, “CLEARANCE ITEMS ARE INDIVIDUALLY PRICED,” meaning each item has its own price sticker with the word “CLEARANCE” at the top.

I am running the register one day when a woman comes up with an expensive item. I scan the item and the lady huffs and rolls her eyes before fixing me with a “mom stare.”

Customer: “That’s wrong. It’s on clearance.”

Me: “Let me call for a price check.”

I reach for the phone but she sticks her hand out to stop me.

Customer: “Can’t you just fix it? It’s on clearance” *Points at the table*

Me: “I don’t see a clearance sticker. Someone probably put it there instead of returning it to the shelf.”

Customer: “So just make it 75% off like the sign says.”

Me: “I can’t do that, ma’am, but I can call for a price check and get this squared away.”

I reach for the phone again and dodge her hand as she tries to block me from calling. A manager — a no-nonsense woman with decades of retail management under her belt — comes over to check the item.

Manager: “Oh, I see. Yeah, I’m sorry about this. Sometimes when people don’t want items anymore, they just put them wherever. This isn’t on clearance.”

Customer: “You’re the manager?”

Manager: “Yes, I am.”

Customer: “Then give me 75% off.”

Manager: *Shakes her head* “I can’t do that. There’s no defect, and it’s not discontinued or expiring.”

Customer: *Enunciating each word* “It. Was. On. Clearance.”

Manager: *Enunciating back* “It. Was. Not.”

Customer: “YES!”

Manager: “I’m not going to go through this with you again. You can have it at full price or I can put it back. The choice is yours.”

Customer: “Just give me the f****** discount!”

My manager shrugs and walks away with the item. The woman looks at me, mouth open, as if she expects me to do something about it.

Customer: “She took it!”

Me: *Trying not to smile* “Will there be anything else today?”

Customer: “F*** you!” *Stomps out*

Related:
Some People Have Never Been Told “No” And It Shows

I work at customer service and it’s insanely busy at the moment. People have been called in, but we just can’t handle the number of calls. It rarely happens, so it’s not like we could prepare for this. The wait is up to thirty minutes and we do the best we can to help people as well and as quickly as we can. I start my opening spiel.

Caller: “Ugh, finally! How was your coffee?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Caller: “I am a customer! You should remember that!”

Me: “Eh… okay? How can I—”

Caller: “I pay your wages, you know that? You let me wait over an hour! Is this what I pay for? This non-service?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma—”

Caller: “You all don’t care about your customers! You just let us hang while you guys chat-chat-chat. Well, had a nice chat, young lady?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s very busy today and we didn’t expect it. I apologize for the wa—”

Caller: “Then hire more people!”

And she hung up. I never knew who she was or how I could help her.

Related:
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 6
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 5
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 4
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 3
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 2