I work at a store that has a return policy of ninety days. If you bring the item in, undamaged, with the receipt, within that timeframe, we will happily and easily complete the return and send you on your merry way.

One day, a woman comes in with an item to return. I scan her receipt as this is the easiest way to complete a return, and the system won’t scan it in, just comes up with an error. Then, I manually input the receipt and I see what’s wrong with it.

Me: “Ma’am, this receipt is from ninety-three days ago, just outside of our ninety-day return period.”

There’s nothing I can do to give her the full price of whatever she wants to return, as I am just a humble worker bee, so I give her two options.

Me: “I can run this as a return without a receipt, but that will give you the lowest price the item has been in the past sixty days or so, and the money will be put on a gift card. Your other option is for me to call a manager up to see what they can do.”

This store constantly has very large sales, so I’d guess she’d be getting 60% of the full price she paid. She goes with option two. Okay, no problem. That means the problem is out of my hands; I’m just here for the ride now as there aren’t any other people in line.

The manager comes up and explains the ninety-day return policy — which is very clearly stated on the receipt, as well as on the BIG SIGN ABOVE THE COUNTER — saying the same thing I did: we can’t return it unless we do a return without a receipt.

Customer: “But that’s ridiculous! Rules are made to be broken!”

Eventually, the manager told her to take it or leave it. She took the store gift card.

A delivery driver comes to our office front door, looking for a nearby company with a similar name to ours. I answer his knock.

Me: “The roads here are a bit of a spider’s web, but if you take the first left and turn right immediately, their office will be straight in front of you.”

Driver: “There’s no road to turn right onto.”

Me: “You need to turn left and then immediately turn right.”

Driver: “I can’t turn right; there’s no road.”

Me: “I get that. You need to turn left and then right immediately after.”

Driver: “There’s no right to take.”

Me: “Because you need to turn left. After you’ve turned left, you can then turn right.”

Driver: “There’s no right there. Can you get someone else to help who knows what they’re talking about?”

Me: “You need to turn left, mate. Left. Turn left.”

Driver: “I CANNOT TURN RI— Oh, you meant left? Why didn’t you say so?”

Me: “I did. You need to turn left and then turn right.”

Driver: “Why didn’t you say that to start with, you [slur for a foolish person]?”

Me: “I’m done here. Good luck, and also f*** off, pal.”

I slammed the door. To heck with him!

I’ve been cashiering at this place for a few years.

Customer #1: “I have EBT.”

Me: “Your total is [total]; you can swipe your card whenever.”

[Customer #1] pays and leaves.

Customer #2: “My tax dollars are paying for them to freeload.”

Me: “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I work here full-time and I use food stamps.”

I looked at them calmly as I waited for them to pay. They avoided eye contact and finished the transaction as fast as humanly possible and skedaddled.

The art gallery that I work for has some seriously upscale stuff. When looking for a nice painting for your living room, office, or whatever, know that if you want an original piece of art, and if that art is from us, you’re going to be paying a LOT for it.

Me: “Good afternoon, ma’am, how can I help you today?”

Customer: “Yes, I was wondering about the price of this piece over here.”

She leads me to a moderately-sized, original piece in a redwood frame.

Me: “This one is priced at $1,200, with taxes, of course.”

Customer: “Hmm…”

She takes a moment to study it.

Customer: “No, no, I think you can do it for $200.”

Me: “Uh, no, sorry, the lowest I could possibly go is $1,100, and that’s even a bit of a stretch, considering the artist is so well known around here.”

Customer: “No, no, no, that won’t do. I’ll take it for $200.”

From the tone of her voice, she isn’t asking or suggesting; she’s straight-up TELLING me that I WILL sell it to her for the price she quoted.

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I could never possibly take $1,000 off a painting for you. Usually, when someone offers a price $100 less than the asking price, I have to call the artist and ask them directly.”

Customer: “No, you don’t need to call them. I’ll just take it for $200.”

Me: “No, ma’am, you won’t. You need to pay the full $1,200 if you want this painting.”

Customer: “Listen here. I want that painting, but I’ll only pay $200 for it. So, what you’re going to do is walk your happy little butt over there, take it off the wall, carry it to the registers, and sell it to me for the price I am willing to pay.”

She crosses her arms and gives me a “so there” huff of breath and decisive nod.

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but that’s not how this works. I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay the $1,200 or you don’t get the Upscale Stuff.”

The customer spent a good twenty minutes arguing with me before she finally stormed out. Whoever told her that SHE could set the prices for an art piece was an idiot and a liar, and I was powerfully tempted to say so. I’m honestly amazed that I kept myself as professional and polite as I did, as I was desperately trying NOT to burst into scornful laughter.

I told my manager, truthfully, what happened and — behind closed doors with me — he didn’t bother to hold back his laughter. He shook his head and told me that I had done a very good job and that I wasn’t going to get into trouble. He promised that he would handle any complaints.

I found out that she DID call to complain and was politely and professionally read the riot act about her behavior and unrealistic expectations about our business. She was informed, in polite, pompous speech, that we did not allow customers to set the price, and that if she wanted a piece, she was obligated to pay the asking price for it. Then, she was — just as politely and pompously — hung up on.

Oh, and I sold that very same piece of art for $1,200 later that same week to a gentleman who planned to make it a talking piece in his gallery.

Every few weeks, [Friend #1], [Friend #2], [Friend #3], and I plan little outings to catch up. This week is my turn to plan. [Friend 1#] tells me that [Friend #4] wants to go. I agree, even though I barely know him, because it brings the cost down and he seems like a nice guy. Before booking and paying, I send out a mass text.

Me: “Hi, all! The total for our adventure is $1,000. With all five of us, it’s $200 each. Is that okay with everyone or should we look for something smaller?”

The first three friends agree that it’s okay. [Friend #4] doesn’t respond. I wait for a full day before contacting him directly.

Me: “Are you good for $200 for [event]?”

Friend #4: “K.”

Me: “Okay, I’m gonna book it. You can pay me there.”

Friend #4: “I said OK.”

The day of the event comes and we all gather at my house. My first three friends have cash in hand, but [Friend #4] shows up empty-handed. I pull him aside. 

Me: *Quietly* “Hey, do you have your money?”

Friend #4: “No.”

Me: “I told you it’s $200 to go out today.”

Friend #4: “I don’t have that kind of money.”

Me: *Frustrated* “So why did you tell me you were good? I asked—”

Friend #4: “You said I could go.”

Me: “If you pay.”

Friend #4: “You didn’t say that. You invited me out and now you expect me to pay?”

Me: *Sigh* “If we cover you, can you pay us back?”

Friend #4: “You already paid for everything, right? It’s not a lot more if you—”

Me: “No. You pay or you don’t go.”

Friend #4: “I drove all the way here and you aren’t going to let me go?”

I shrug.

Friend #4: “F*** you!”

I’m one of those people who laugh when they get mad, like now.

Me: “Get the f*** out of here.”

Friend #4: “You know what? I heard you were a c***, but I gave you the benefit. Now I see he was right. You’re f****** white-a** trash. F*** you!”

I tell our friends what happened. [Friend #1] shakes his head. 

Friend #1: “I’m sorry, [My Name]. He has money; he just doesn’t like to spend it. He pulled the same s*** at dinner the other night.”

Me: “Well… thanks for being so flexible. But if any of you ask if [Friend #4] can come with us again, my answer is no.”

My friends all pitched in to help cover [Friend #4]’s absence. He tried to wedge his way into another event a few weeks later, but I shut him down without hesitation.