Bills larger than $100 haven’t been printed in the USA since 1969. I worked at a bank in the late 1990s and early 2000s. People continually asked for $500 and $1,000 bills to use as gifts. We would tell them we didn’t have any and there was no way to order them.

Customer: “Just because you can’t afford one, it doesn’t mean those bills don’t exist!”

Me: “Ma’am, the fact that they existed when you were my age doesn’t negate the fact that they stopped printing them before I was born.”

My girlfriend and I are planning a trip, so one day while at the mall, we decide to look at new luggage. We find a typical chain store selling such and walk in. We’re immediately jumped on by an over-eager saleswoman. We let her know that we’re just browsing, thanks. She backs off for a couple of minutes but soon comes back.

Every time one of us stops to look at a particular piece, she swoops in and starts listing off features or talking about all the sales that are on.

It gets so bad that it triggers my girlfriend’s anxiety and we have to leave. I can applaud the work ethic, the commitment to helping customers, and the knowledge, but back off and know when you’re not helping. It’s an easy way to lose sales, and I wish more retailers understood that.

A few years back, I worked in a clothing store. At the time, we had a buy-one-get-one-70%-off sale on clearance. It brought in lots of people — the type of people who would drive thirty minutes home and then another thirty back to the store so we could adjust their bill and save them fifty cents.

The 70% was taken off the lowest-priced item. This is common. What it meant for us, however, was people standing at the till for twenty minutes sorting out their piles to try to get the best deals. Buy the $30 stuff in one transaction, $40 stuff in another, $10 stuff in yet another… because who wants 70% off of $5 when it’s all bought together, right?

And to be honest, we didn’t necessarily mind doing it. Most people were at least semi-decent about it, and we liked getting them the best deals.

Except for one night. These people were in just before closing, and we weren’t allowed to say anything to make them leave. We also only had thirty minutes to clean, count tills, do the bank deposit, fill out all the reports, etc,. and get out. So, these people were in and out of the fitting rooms, browsing away, and finally, fifteen minutes after closing, they came up to pay.

My manager rang them up and put everything together on one bill to get them out faster. And cue the meltdown.

Customers: “Wait! Which items got the discount?!”

My manager told them.

Customer: “We could be saving more! Redo everything!”

The manager sighed and started undoing everything on the computer. While that was processing and the customers were sorting piles, the manager picked up the phone behind the register and called her husband.

Manager: “Hi, honey. Don’t start dinner yet. I’m going to be late.”

Customers: *Livid* “You are incredibly rude!”

Then, they tried to storm out the door, except it was locked.

I followed them to the vestibule to unlock the door.

Me: “I’m sorry for what’s happened but we’re closed. We have been closed for a while now and we only have a certain amount of time to get the closing tasks done before we’re supposed to leave. We’re just… running out of time.”

They look from the door to me and one replies:

Customer #1: “You might be closed, but she doesn’t have to be so rude!”

By then, my manager was also there.

Manager: “I’ll still ring up your stuff if you want it. Your choice.”

They came back in and got their stuff. We let them out. I don’t think many chores got done that night. My manager and I were both frazzled. I ran around grabbing hanger bins and garbage and she did as quick a count as she could manage.

I wish we could actually say we’re closed.

At our sandwich shop, we have orders with numbers that mean they get lettuce and mayo, and if someone orders a “slim [number],” it is just meat and bread. A customer walks in and talks to me very nervously, so I try to be helpful and straightforward as we talk to try and help him relax.

Customer: “I’d like a regular turkey sandwich.”

Me: “Do you mean a slim or the actual [number] sandwich?”

Customer: “I don’t know. My wife asked me to get a regular turkey sandwich here. So, I’ll guess I’ll go with whatever the regular is.”

I explain what comes on the sandwich.

Me: “Sound good?”

Customer: “Sure, whatever.”

Thirty minutes go by and the phone rings.

Me: “Hello, thank you for calling [Store]. How can I help you?”

The caller is a screaming lady.

Lady: “ARE YOU DUMB?! You gave my husband the wrong sandwich. You f****** idiots, I want a refund and a new sandwich!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, did your husband order a turkey sandwich?”

Lady: “Yes, and there is also all this other s*** on it! Why would you f*** up my order?!”

I attempt to explain that her husband was told everything before ordering, but she continues to cuss me out over the phone, so I set the phone down to get my manager. My manager picks up the phone and we both realize she never stopped her tantrum.

Manager: “Yes, this is the manager, ma’am. You need to calm down. If you bring the sandwich in, we can explain and figure this out.”

Twenty minutes later, I see a woman park in front of the glass of our store, and she looks pissed, so I walk into the back to grab my manager.

Lady: “You f****** idiots, this is not what my husband ordered!”

The manager pulls out our copy of his receipt and tries to explain.

Lady: “Are you all this f****** dumb?! My husband ordered a regular turkey sandwich and you f***ed it up!”

Manager: “Listen, I need you to calm down and stop swearing in the store; I’ll make you a free sandwich.”

Lady: “It’s the least you could do after making me f****** drive down here because of your incompetence; we are never coming here again!”

We gave her the sandwich and to both our benefit, we never saw her or her husband again, but it did explain the nervous demeanor of the husband.

I work in a collections department for a large bank. I’m answering the phone.

Me: “Hello, this [My Name] in collections. How can I help you?”

Caller: “I received a letter saying that I am past due and my account will close if I don’t pay.”

She then proceeds to read the entire letter to me.

Me: “Yes, that would be correct. You are [amount] past due and [number] days past due. Your last payment was on [date]. Do you want to set up a payment?”

Caller: “I have not been paying because I have not received any statements since the last time I paid, so I thought a payment wasn’t due.”

I confirm that her address is still the same and make sure that her statements aren’t being suppressed. There isn’t anything wrong, so I tell her that it might be an issue with the post office.

Caller: “If it was an issue with the post office, then why was I able to receive this letter but not my statements? Can I speak to [Manager], the manager that signed this letter to me?”

Me: “No, ma’am, that letter is automated and they do not work here.”

Caller: “How do you spell your name? What department are you in again? You’re just having trouble finding them. I retired from [Bank] and I know how things work there. Do you work in [State #1] or [State #2].”

We have two main headquarter locations.

Me: “I work in [State #2].”

Caller: *Scoffs* “THAT’S why.”

Me: “Okay, well, would you like to set up a payment?”

Caller: “No, I won’t be paying until I can see the statements showing how much my payments are.”

Me: “Okay. Do you have access to online banking? You can see the amounts on there.”

Caller: “No, I am too old for that; I don’t use that.”

LITERALLY every single job at the bank uses computers all day. Please tell me how you worked here without using them.

Me: “I can get someone to send another statement out, but there is a possibility that it will not arrive before the account closes on [date]. You are still responsible for payments on the account each month.”

Caller: “Yes, I would like another statement sent out. I’ll pay when I receive it.”

I got someone to send the statements out and sent her on her way to another department. I still don’t understand how she worked on computers at a bank but can’t do online banking. I also don’t understand how someone who worked at a bank doesn’t know that a payment is due on an account every month regardless of statement issues. This lady was in her late fifties, so it’s not like she was incredibly old, either. I found it super funny that she thought some manager personally addressed this letter to her.