I’m in line at a Hispanic grocery store with an older Japanese woman in front of me. The cashier finishes ringing her up and the customer hands her a twenty for a six-dollar charge.

Employee: “Here you go, ma’am.”

The employee gives her four dollars in change.

Customer: “Umm, excuse me. You messed up my change.”

Employee: *Dismissively* “No, I didn’t. Now, if you could please move along?”

Customer: “Wait, please, I do need the money.”

The cashier looks noticeably annoyed.

Employee: “Look. I get that English isn’t your first language, but that’s how much change you get from a ten.”

Me: *Interrupting* “Hey, she gave you a twenty, not a ten. Why won’t you give her the right change?”

This seems to set off the cashier, who quickly walks off to get a manager. She brings the manager and talks to her, facing her and ignoring us.

Employee: *In Spanish* “This old lady keeps insisting that I took her ten dollars and won’t go away. “

Me: *Interrupting again in Spanish* “She paid with a twenty and you didn’t give her the correct change.”

The cashier glared at me, and with a huff, took the cash from the register to count it with the manager. They came back about seven minutes later, the manager looking annoyed and the cashier completely unwilling to look me or the older woman in the eyes as she gave her the correct change.

I am a female in my twenties. I am on my bank mobile app reviewing purchases and withdrawals from the last few months when I notice a couple of charges on my debit card that I don’t recognize. After determining that they came from two online stores that I have never visited, I decide that I should cancel the card and get a new one issued. The charges only total about $6, but I know thieves will sometimes test a card with a small purchase to see if it works before making a larger one.

I drive to the bank and ask the teller about how to get a new card, and they direct me to a specific manager’s office.

Me: “Hello, I was told you could help me get a new debit card issued. There have been some fraudulent charges on—”

Manager: *Interrupting me* “Are you sure they were fraudulent?”

Me: *Pauses* “Yes? I reviewed where the charges came from and I don’t recognize them.”

Manager: “You must just not remember. Happens all the time. I’m sure you went on a shopping spree with your friends and forgot about something that you bought.”

I am definitely not the type of person to go on random “shopping sprees” with my friends nor forget what I purchased, and it irks me that she is stereotyping me in this way, but I try to remain calm.

Me: “Um, no. These charges came from online stores that I have never even heard of. If you bring up my checking account, I can show you. One was on [date] and another was on [date].”

Manager: “We can’t refund those. We can only refund you if the purchase was made less than thirty days ago. If you really thought someone was using your card, you should have come in sooner.”

Me: “I understand that. The charges were only about $6 and I didn’t notice them until very recently, so if I can’t get reimbursed that is fine. I just want to cancel this card and get a new one.”

Manager: “It’s gonna be a long process to get a new one, you know. You won’t have a debit card for several weeks until the new one comes in. Are you sure you didn’t just forget you bought something? This is going to be a lot of trouble over only $6.”

Me: “Yes, I am positive. I have other credit cards I can use, or cash. It’s not about the $6. I do not want more, larger fraudulent charges showing up on my bank account, so I would like a new debit card.”

She eyes me for a moment longer, as if waiting for me to realize I’m making a huge mistake.

Manager: “Fine, I will cancel your card and order a replacement. Your new card will be mailed to you.”

I eventually received and activated my new card without any issue, and I thought this was the end of it, until about a year later. I received a parcel in the mail from my bank, and I was surprised to find it contained another debit card… with my old card number and an updated expiration date. The card, it seems, was never cancelled, so I’ve apparently had two open debit cards attached to my bank account for over a year. Luckily, it doesn’t appear that any more fraudulent charges were made, but I will be calling my bank tomorrow and demanding to speak to anyone ELSE who can cancel my old card.

I’m the visuals coordinator for my store; basically, I’m in charge of marketing and making sure the store stays nice and displays stay filled throughout the day. I’m out on the sales floor straightening up for a good portion of my shift. I deal with customer questions on a regular basis, and I always do my best to help them with what they need. However, I’m actively discouraged from “taking sales” — i.e. getting too involved in helping a customer pick out items — as that would take away from my actual job, and it’s what the sales associates are there for anyway.

I’m refolding clothes on a display, and a woman comes up to me to ask a question.

Customer: “Excuse me. Where are your jeans?”

Me: “Oh, they’re right over there! There’s signage on the display that will tell you about all the different styles we currently offer.”

As I talk, I’m pointing to a display of all our jeans, clearly visible not twenty feet behind this woman. However, after following the direction of my pointing, she just glares back at me.

Customer: “What, you’re not even gonna walk me over there?”

Me: “I’m actually working on an important project at the moment, but if you’d like some help picking out jeans, I can call a sales associate to work with you!”

We wear walkie talkies for just such occasions. The woman just glared at me for a moment longer, huffed, and walked off in the complete opposite direction from the jeans.

Okay, lady.

I was given a gift card for my birthday. I realize the expiration date is about to arrive, so I place an order for some kitchen items on a famous home store website on April eleventh. After a few weeks, I don’t receive the items, so I contact the store.

The methods of contact are either phone or chat, both of which have hour-long wait times. Their email customer service feature is currently disabled. Each time I contact them, I experience these wait times. The first time I finally get to an agent:

Agent #1: “Your items were damaged in transit so they were sent back to the store. I’ll re-input the order for me.”

Okay, great.

A few weeks later, nothing has arrived, so I contact customer service again.

Agent #2: “It looks like the last agent you spoke with inputted the replacement incorrectly. I’ll resubmit it for you, and I’ll do it correctly this time.”

Okay, cool.

Still, nothing arrives. I contact them again and asked to speak to a supervisor.

Supervisor: “I’m so sorry for the last two agents you’ve dealt with. I’m going to input a completely new order for you, and it will be free of charge.”

Okay, fine.

A few weeks later, I get a delivery confirmation. The items have been delivered to Washington, DC. I live in California.

Furious, I contact them yet again.

Agent #3: “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do for you.”

A few weeks later, I received an email confirmation that a new comped order had been submitted on my behalf and would be sent to… Washington, DC.

I give up.

I’m a customer at a big-name bookstore, browsing, when I witness an older man getting help from an employee in the music/movie section.

Customer: “Can I pay for this record here?”

Employee: “No, sir, these registers haven’t been turned on today. I can ring you up over there, though.”

The man grumbles but follows.

Customer: “I guess people just don’t like vinyl. That’s why they stopped making them, you know, back in the day.”

The employee just makes non-committal sounds and I lose track of them as I go about my own business. However, as I head up to the register later, I see this man standing with his hands on his hips by the customer service desk.

Customer: “Where’s my copy? Hey! Where’s my copy?”

He practically barks at the girl on the desk. I have no idea what he is referring to.

Employee: “She’ll be right back with it, sir.”

He makes a disgusted sound and turns, looking fed up.

Customer: “Ridiculous.”

As I get to the line, I see him stalk toward someone and he instantly lights into her.

Customer: “You know this is unacceptable! Where is your store manager?”

Employee: “He’s in a meeting, but I’m a manager. I—”

Customer: “No, you write his name and number down. I’ll call him! I had to hoof it all the way from over there to here just to check out. That is plain ridiculous! You’ve lost a sale! You tell your manager you’ve lost a sale!”

Employee: “Sir, I think you should leave this store.”

Customer: “Oh, I will, and I won’t be back. I hope you go out of business!”

Employee: “Sir, you are being rude. Please leave.”

Customer: “And you can go to h***!”

He stalked off, muttering all the way out the door, while I and a few others in line just watched him go, shaking our heads and exchanging “Did that really just happen?” glances.

The manager sighed heavily and apologized to those of us nearby. I told her I was just glad that she could talk back to that guy and not put up with his nonsense. All that just because a few registers weren’t open during a slow day?