I work part-time at a tiny, tiny Asian food store. I have seen fast food restrooms that were bigger than our store. Still, we stock more than two-thousand products so customers often ask us where certain things are. That’s no big deal; if anything, we hold pride in our good customer service.

I’m alone in the shop, as mornings are usually calm during this particular season.

Me: “Good morning, how are you? Are you looking for something specific?”

Customer: “I need two cans and one package of coconut milk. It has to be organic!”

That’s one of our most popular products, so I easily show her where we keep our coconut milk. Most of them aren’t organic, though. I hold up the two organic packages we stock.

Me: “Which size do you need? 1L or 250ml?”

Customer: “Organic.”

Me: “These are both organic. How much do you need?”

Customer: “Organic!”

She doesn’t even look at me, but instead starts grabbing around where the cans are. My hands are still holding the two packages, so I can’t exactly help and point out which is the right can.

Customer: “Is this one organic?”

Me: “Yes, that’s the organic can.”

Customer: *A little annoyed* “You know, the other woman recognizes me and always gets my coconut milk before I can even ask for it.”

I almost reply that I must have been fortunate enough to not encounter her in my four months of working here, but I hold back and just smile. I’m surely going to remember her, too, so that next time I can flee into the back when she comes in.

I hold up the two packages again, since she still hasn’t looked at me properly.

Me: “So, which size do you need for the packages: 250ml or 1L?”

Customer: “ORGANIC!”

I really wonder why she needed help locating our coconut milk and identifying which of the three brands we have is the organic one, since she apparently comes in so often and always buys the same thing.

I am eight years old. Our music teacher seems like a nice woman until, in one class, she tells us we are to memorise the lyrics for six songs by next week, word for word. As we’re eight, our class is afraid to protest. During the week, we are all terrified, and my parents agree that the teacher is requiring too much. However, it being a different time and place, merely a few years after my country has become independent from the Soviet Union, people simply are not used to challenging authority.

The dreaded day comes. The teacher hands out empty papers and assigns us to write the exact lyrics to one of the songs. We are all quietly panicking, but we start writing down the lyrics as well as we can. She tells us to hand the papers over and that she’ll return them after lunch. It is a long and scary lunch break, but finally, it ends. She enters the classroom with our tests.

During that horrible week, no one has paid attention to the date. The first of April. She has not corrected or graded anything, only written, “April Fools!” on every test.

Painfully, I see later that I actually managed to write down the exact lyrics, word for word. The fact that she did not even bother to give us all As for effort really bothers me.

I am a supervisor in a store; on this particular day, I am acting as manager. I am serving a customer and have a couple of others in my queue when a woman bypasses the queue, standing directly in front of my register. Customers often do this if they have a question that can be easily answered.

Me: *To the woman* “Are you waiting to ask a question?”

Customer: “I need you to show me where [item] is.”

Me: “I am sorry, but I am serving here. If you would like help, you can join the queue or find another team member on the shop floor.”

Customer: *Sighs dramatically.* “I am [Other Supervisor]’s Aunt.” 

Me: “Sorry, but she’s not in today.”

She responds with more emphasis, glaring at the customer I am serving.

Customer: “I need you to get me [item]. I am [Other Supervisor]’s aunt.” 

Me: “Yes, so you said. Now, please, get on the end of the queue.”

Just then, an associate comes into view.

Me: “Better still, just go and see that lady there.”

She finally walks off, and my customer gives me a look of pity. I finish serving her and start on the next customer, and then the phone rings. It’s my manager, sounding furious. I get another associate to take over my sales so I can find out what is wrong.

Manager: “What the h*** is going on there? I just got a call from [Other Supervisor] telling me that her mother just called her to say that the doors are locked and she’s standing outside trying to get in.”

Me: “What? The doors are wide open. I am looking at them right now and am trying to serve a line of customers.”

This manager always takes her word over mine.

Manager: “That’s not what [Other Supervisor] said, her mother is locked out.”

Me: “It’s the truth, [Other Supervisor]’s aunt is in the store right now; she’s been trying to make me be her personal shopper because she’s her aunt.”

Manager: “Well, I am going to call [Other Supervisor] back to find out what is going on, and if I have to come in to find out you are lying to me, there will be h*** to pay.”

Me: *Absolutely fuming* “I am not lying; the door has not been closed at all today.”

This can be proven by all the security cameras. A few minutes later, the manager rings back.

Manager: “Uh, I spoke to [Other Supervisor]. Apparently, it was an April Fool’s joke.”

Me: “Really?!”

Manager: “Are you okay?”

Me: “No, I’m f****** fuming! I’ve got customers to serve. I’m hanging up now.”

The next day, the other supervisor is laughing about how funny it was that her aunt was in the store when she pulled her April Fool’s joke.

Me: “Well, thanks, but I didn’t find it funny, especially when [Manager] was abusing me and accusing me of lying!”

My girlfriend’s birthday is coming up. She’s a huge bookworm, so I decide to get her a fifty-dollar gift card for a chain bookstore. The cashier seems very friendly as she rings me up.

Cashier: “Out of curiosity, who’s this for?”

Me: “My girlfriend. Her birthday’s next week.”

Cashier: “Oh, cool. What else are you getting her?”

Me: “Uh, this? This is her gift.”

Suddenly, the cashier is no longer so friendly.

Cashier: “This is it? The only thing you’re getting her is a gift card for a bookstore?”

Me: *Pauses* “Yeah. She loves books.”

Cashier: *Muttering* “Someone’s gonna be single next week.”

I was incredibly shocked. I tried not to let her response bother me, but since this was my first serious relationship, I couldn’t stop thinking about what that cashier had said. Plus, money was tight, so I had already spent time saving up for that gift card. Luckily, my girlfriend absolutely loved it and, knowing my money situation, even chastised me for spending so much money on her! We’re married now, by the way.

I’ve just put in my order at the tills for a soup and sandwich to go, and they directed me to the other end of the counter where orders are picked up. I’m waiting fairly close to the counter but not standing right in front of it. The customer behind me looks at me, walks past me, and stands directly in front of the counter. The customer is an older man and all of the employees have East Asian accents.

Employee: *In accented English* “The soup was to go?”

I raise my hand and step closer.

Me: “Ye—”

The other customer butts in impatiently in French.

Customer: “Yes, cinnamon raisin!”

The employee, probably just hearing the “yes,” goes back to fill up the order. I come over and peer over the counter and see that she is filling up a bowl with my soup, but I actually wanted it to go. I try to call to her across the counter, but she is all the way on the other end and I don’t want to disturb everyone in the area.

Me: *To the other customer, in French* “Didn’t she ask if the soup was to go?”

Customer: *Indignantly, in French* “I don’t know! Mine is a cinnamon raisin bagel!”

The customer huffed and puffed impatiently and didn’t apologize, and when the poor employee came to the counter with my order on a plate I told her that it was my order and it was actually to go. She gave a side glance at the other customer, who was red and huffing, and kindly went to correct my order.

I don’t know if this guy couldn’t understand the language, the accent, or the question, but would it kill you to wait your turn in line and pay attention to what people are asking you?

Related:
No Soup For You!, Part 2
No Soup For You!