I am shopping at [Grocery Store], whose only identifying uniform to me is a bright red apron with the store’s logo on the front. I’m after a particular brand and flavor of salad dressing that another customer happens to be standing in front of. This other customer is wearing khaki pants and a black polo.

Me: “Excuse me, bu—”

The other customer cuts me off mid-word, serving me a death glare, and yelling:

Other Customer: “I do not work here! I will not help you, because I do not work here! This is not this store’s uniform! Go find a real g**d*** employee to help you! Why in the h*** won’t you people leave me alone?!”

I am taken aback and slightly shocked from being yelled at out of nowhere.

Me: “I… was just trying to ask you if you would move a little so that I could get a bottle of [salad dressing]. It’s right behind you on the shelf.” 

The other customer gapes at me for a second before a very embarrassed look comes across their face. They look down at their phone and shuffle forward a few steps so that I can reach the product I was after.

Me: “Thanks.”

I grabbed my bottle of salad dressing and hurried away. I don’t even want to know what type of day this person was having.

We have an entitled old guy come in who asks for his sandwich “deconstructed,” which means he wants all of the toppings on the side. He’s generally annoying.

He’s arguing with me about getting a free salad dressing. At the end, he says:

Customer: “I don’t want to deal with you anymore. I’ll pay for what I’ve ordered.”

He does, and then:

Customer: *Demanding* “Where’s my cup?”

Me: *Somewhat smugly* “You didn’t order a drink, sir. I can’t give you a cup.”

He sheepishly pays for a cup and then walks off, ignoring me.

He comes in a few weeks later and says:

Customer: “I want someone else to serve me.”

I tell my manager and go to stock stuff. Apparently, I annoyed him enough that I don’t have to take his order anymore, which is okay with me.

A few days later, I’m training someone on the front counter when he comes in again. He points at my trainee and demands that she serve him.

Me: “She doesn’t know the register well enough because I’m training her, so she won’t be taking your order.”

Customer: “Fine, I’ll come back later.”

So now, I have a fairly valid excuse for not taking his order. My manager thinks it’s hilarious, as do I. Some coworkers are a bit jealous because they are the ones who have to deal with him.

My partner and I decide to get pizza for dinner from a chain known for having pizzas always ready for pickup. They also have a “no-contact pickup” system in place for the current health crisis. We place an order online, and my partner goes to pick up the order. A bit after he leaves, he calls me.

Partner: “So, we’re definitely not getting pizza here.”

Me: “What? Why?”

Partner: “Well, for one, the line to pick up is across the parking lot, so it would probably be forty minutes or so before we get our pizza. But beyond that, I looked inside and the person cutting the pizzas isn’t wearing a mask.”

Me: “What the… How can they not be wearing a mask?”

Partner: “I don’t know. But I don’t want to eat anything from here anymore.”

Me: “Me, neither. Well, at least cancel the order, then so we don’t throw our money away.”

He hangs up to call the store and then calls me back a couple of minutes later.

Partner: “So they said the only way we can get a refund is by calling the 1-800 number.”

Me: “Seriously? Well, what did they say about the guy not wearing a mask?”

Partner: “Whoever I talked to said they just got in, and they would look into it.”

I just thought, “Look into it how? Look across your tiny store to the dude not wearing a mask, and then refund our money.”

Me: “Ugh… Okay, fine. It’s not that much money, anyway, but that makes me so mad. All right, see you soon.”

My partner ended up going around a fast food drive-thru to get us dinner. We still had to call corporate so we could get our $15 back. How could someone be working in food service during a global health crisis and not be doing anything to keep customers from getting sick? We’ll be telling everyone we know not to order from that store because we no longer trust them to follow food safety procedures, even after the crisis is over.

I work in a children’s clothing store near the outskirts of the city. In September, customers come like a massive river, flooding everything, and we can barely get any cleaning and tidying done since we are only four people working.

A woman comes in with her daughter and starts leaving all her clothes on the socks section, covering all of them. We have a table where people can leave their stuff and see if it fits the kids or their tastes, and it’s full at the time, but I can’t let her put her stuff there like that, so I go to talk to her.

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, but you can’t leave your stuff there. Other people will not be able to grab the socks.”

Customer: “But the table is full; I don’t have anywhere to put it.”

Me: “You can grab one of the big bags next to the door if you want, or I can try to make you space on the table.”

The woman looks at me like I’ve annoyed her, and she doesn’t answer. She takes her daughter by the hand after a mean look and disappears down one of the aisles. After a while, I am tidying up one of the aisles when the woman suddenly comes over to me.

Customer: *Screaming* “EXCUSE ME! Can you make me some room on the table, please?!”

I was utterly confused by her reaction, but I said yes and I did it. She answered me with an angry, “THANK YOU!” and I left to do my job. When she went to pay for her clothes, she started ranting to my coworkers about how bad a store clerk I was and that I should be fired.

My coworkers, who know me well, didn’t trust her, and they even told me that she was actually angry with her husband for not coming to the store with her, so she started venting her frustration with me.

Either way, she never returned to our store after that.

I own a small shop in a very touristic area. As a courtesy, we will accept American money, but we give back change in Canadian money. It’s our legal currency before all, and it’s so rare that we get American money that it isn’t worth keeping a full set of change for it. Most tourists (from anywhere) will opt to use credit cards, which we accept, too.

I’m working in the back when I hear screaming coming from the front, so I go to see what’s the matter.

A lady is having a full temper-tantrum because she’s getting Canadian money back for her very precious and expensive — her words — American money. She’s contesting our exchange rate. We are not a bank, and the exchange rate changes every day, so we round it up every week or so. She keeps calling us thieves, crooks, and whatnot. Then, she starts calling our currency “monopoly money” and worthless.

She rejects paying by card, claiming we’ll clone it or something. All of this is under the eyes of a mortified but silent husband. At this point, I’m done with her; I’d rather lose a sale and have her out of here.

Me: “Okay, it seems we won’t reach a satisfactory solution here, so keep your money, we keep our goods, and have a nice day.”

I gesture to the door.

Customer: “What? No, I want those things and I can afford them! I’m not poor!”

Me: “No, we are done here. Please leave.”

Customer: “No! I’m not leaving without my things!”

Me: “Yes, you are. Bye.”

I open the door to incite them to leave.

Customer: “No! No! NOOO!”

She flails about and knocks down a nearby display, breaking multiple items.

Customer: “I want my stuff! You can’t make me leave! You can’t!“

Me: “Okay, now you can stay to pay for those.”

Customer: “I ain’t paying for any broken crap!”

Me: “You break, you pay.”

Customer: “No, I want my stuff!”

She points to what she selected first; it’s still on the counter. I have had enough. I gesture to my employee to keep her busy for a few minutes while I go call the police. Thankfully, the station is only a few streets away and they make it while she’s still here.

Two officers walk in and ask what’s going on. Before I can reply, the lady butts in.

Customer: “Arrest them both, right now! They are thieves, trying to force me from my precious and expensive American money! I’m not buying anything and they won’t let me leave without giving all my precious and expensive American money to them!”

One of the officers tries to talk her down into a calmer attitude, taking her to one side. The other starts asking my cashier and me for our version. I retell him everything and show the pile of broken items with the emptied display right beside him. I also offer to go watch the security camera in the back with him. He accepts, and when we come back, both officers exchange a little chat.

Officer: “So, what do you want to do?”

Me: “I would just like her to pay for the destroyed items and leave.”

Customer: “I didn’t break anything! It’s them! They broke it all and they are trying to pin it on me to rob me of my precious and expensive American money!”

Officer: “We watched the security camera; we clearly can see you throwing that display down. We suggest you pay for the broken items, or we will have to arrest you for destruction of merchandise.”

She looks concerned and says she’ll agree to pay, to everyone’s relief. My cashier scans all the boxes of the broken stuff.

Cashier: “Okay, it’s [total], please.”

Customer: “Okay, here.”

My cashier extended her hand, but the lady didn’t put the expected money or card in it. She instead spit in her hand!

She was handcuffed and arrested for assault on my cashier and destruction of merchandise. As she was dragged out to the police car, the husband, who had watched everything from a distance, offered to pay for the broken items, so the destruction of merchandise charge was dropped.

He could not talk off the assault charge.

In the end, they went away after the officers took all our depositions, and I gave a copy of the camera footage. I also gave my poor cashier the rest of the day off.

Related:
Loonie Over A Toonie, Part 6
Loonie Over A Toonie, Part 5
Loonie Over A Toonie, Part 4
Loonie Over A Toonie, Part 3