(I’ve just arrived at work.)

Supervisor: “Morning. Can you hop onto a bulk register?”

Me: “Sure. Which one?”

Supervisor: “Doesn’t matter. Any of them will do.”

Me: “Any of them?”

Supervisor: “Any of them.”

(I walk up to the closest register: number eight, only a few feet away. I inform a pair of customers queuing at register seven, the only other staffed register, that I am opening and that they can start unloading their shopping on my belt, which they do. When a register isn’t in use, we park trolleys in them to stop customers leaving through them. When we go to open one, we usually just move the trolleys back to the trolley bay and are good to go. This time, however, I notice that the trolley has been chained to the register with a padlock.)

Me: “Uh, [Supervisor], is there a key to unlock this trolley so I can move it?”

Supervisor: “Why?”

Me: “So I can open up on register eight.”

Supervisor: “Register eight isn’t working today. Go on a different register.”

Me: “You did say, ‘any register.’”

Supervisor: “Obviously I meant any register except number eight. Open on six.”

(By now, of course, the customers had unloaded most of their shopping onto register eight’s belt, and were quite annoyed when I told them they’d have to load it all back into their trolley and move down to register six!)

(I work at an organic winery. Our hours are ten am to six pm every single day, Monday through Sunday. It is 5:45, and I am alone in the shop. The phone rings.)

Me: “Hello, and thank you for calling [Wine Shop]. This is [My Name]; how can I help?”

Female Customer: “Hi, we want to come do a tasting. What time are you open until?”

Me: “Unfortunately, we close in 15 minutes, at 6:00 pm.”

Male Customer: “Okay, we are just leaving now. If we show up two minutes before you close, do you have to stay open?”

Me: *deep breath* “Yes, if you are here before six pm then I will stay open.”

(I couldn’t believe he had asked that, and awaited their arrival. 5:58 came and went, and soon it was six, so I locked the doors. Not even 30 seconds later, the doors rattled as someone tried to open them. Never had I been so happy for lateness.)

(Every morning I come in and bake a batch of bread for the whole day. Since this is more bread than our display holds, the excess gets put on racks behind the counter out of customer sight. One of our more popular breads gets bought up so there is only one left when this particular customer walks up, and before we have had time to add more.)

Customer: “Yeah, I want this bread sliced!”

(My coworker reaches for the bread.)

Customer: “NO! I don’t want that old bread. I want new bread. You got any fresh bread?”

Coworker: “They were all made this morning.” *grabs bread off the other racks and slices it* “Here you are.”

Customer: “NO! There aren’t enough seeds on this bread! I want seeds like that bread!” *points to the “old” bread on the counter*

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am? They are from the same batch, so if you want that one—”

Customer: *glaring at me* “I AM THE CUSTOMER! I AM GOING TO PICK THE ONE I WANT!”

Me: “Yes, I was just letting you know that I made them all this morning, so if you want one that has the same amount of seeds as that one….”

Customer: “I AM GOING TO CHOOOOOSE THE BREAD I WANT. I AM THE CUSTOMER. YOU LET THE CUSTOMER PICK WHAT THEY WANT.”

Me: “Okay, I was just trying to let you know that.”

Customer: “Hmm, I bet you were. I GET WHAT I WANT!”

(At this point I was done and walked away so she could “get what she wanted.”)

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(I walk into a grocery store. At the front end of the store is a display of watermelons, and I put one in my cart. A while later, I’m in the back of the store when another customer notices.)

Woman: “Oh! I didn’t see watermelons in the produce section.”

Me: “No, they were at front, in a display near the self checkouts.”

Woman: “I’m not sure where you mean.”

Me: “I’m headed that way. I can show you, if you’d like?”

(I lead her there and gesture to the watermelons before turning to go check out. She shoots me a dirty look.)

Woman: “Ahem! You’re welcome!”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Woman: “You didn’t say, ‘Thank you’!”

Me: “I helped you. Shouldn’t you be thanking me?”

Woman: “No, because… I… I mean… Young people have no manners!”

(She snatched up a watermelon and stormed off with it.)

(I work at a computer store in Newcastle around 1983 or ‘84. A customer comes in with an IBM compatible computer complete with monitor and keyboard.)

Customer: “Fix this piece of g**d*** s**t! It won’t read my floppy disks!”

Me: “Okay… and what exactly is it doing?”

Customer: “I put the disk in and turn it on, but it says, ‘Drive A is not ready.’”

(What was the problem, you may ask? The idiot didn’t take out the protective thingy for the disk drive! He angrily says to me:)

Customer: “Why didn’t I think of that?! F*** you and your misconceptions!”

(He left without his computer. Long story short, I got my first real computer for free, and I still have it!)