(The thrift store I work at has a valued customer promotion. Spend twenty dollars, get a stamp. Ten stamps gets you 50% off an entire purchase. At the time of this story, I have been on the register a month. A customer comes up to the register, pulling three full shopping carts.)

Customer: “So you know, I have a full shopper’s card.”

Me: “All right. Could I see the card please?”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t have it with me. I left it at home. But you can trust me.” *she shows her cross necklace* “I’m a Christian.”

Me: “Ma’am, without the actual card, I can’t give you the discount. Your faith isn’t a good enough reason to give you the discount.”

Customer: “Why, don’t you trust a Christian woman?”

Me: “Ma’am, on the list of answers to the question, ‘What would Jesus do?’ I’m pretty sure ‘defraud a thrift store’ is nowhere on it. What I can do is ring up your purchases until you hit two hundred dollars, then give you the full stamp card to get the discount on the rest of the order.”

Customer: “No, I have a full card and you will honor it, because I’m a Christian.”

Me: “Ma’am, may I just say ‘Render unto [Store] what is [Store]’s, and render unto God what is God’s.’”

(At this point, the manager arrives and deals with the customer. Afterward, the manager pulls me aside.)

Manager: “She’s tried that before, on other new cashiers. You handled that well.”

Me: “You don’t grow up in a church without learning how to deal with ‘Christians’ like that.”

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(I am a student employee at a fine arts college, where I work on the stage crew for student productions. For some reason, a summer camp the college runs has requested a concert hall so they can draw posters, so my coworker and I have to be present, even though there’s nothing for us to do. It’s important to note WE ARE NOT STAFF for this program, and have absolutely zero obligation to help these kids. We’re basically there to make sure no one breaks or steals any of the expensive equipment in the room. One of the campers breaks off from the group and approaches us at the sound-board at the far end of the hall.)

Camper: “Hey, I was wondering if you guys had a phone charger I could use?”

Coworker: “I don’t; I’m sorry.”

([Camper] pointedly looks at my laptop, which I’m using to charge my phone.)

Me: “Sorry, I’m using my cord right now.”

Camper: “Well, I’m only on two percent. What percent are YOU on?”

(My coworker and I look at him in silence for several seconds.)

Me: “Are you serious right now?”

Camper: “…fine.”

(I’m in line, paying for my own order, when another customer comes up to the other register at the counter, and I overhear this exchange.)

Customer: “I’m not telling you my order. I’m in here every morning. I always get the same thing. You should know what it is.”

(I sneak a glance to look for some sign that he’s joking, but he seems serious and irritated. The server is visibly flustered and begins apologizing. I’m angered by his attitude, but since he relents and gives his order, I decide to stay out of it. For the record, his order wasn’t complicated, but neither was it very simple. I pass him to collect my sandwich at the end of the counter and am going to leave, but he starts complaining again.)

Customer: “I can’t believe this. I’m in here every day! You people should know this.”

Me: “Excuse me sir, I’m curious.” *points at his server* “What’s her name?”

Customer: “I don’t know her name.”

Me: *points at other two servers behind the counter* “What are their names?”

Customer: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Really? But you’re in here every day.”

Customer: *smiles and drops his head, chagrined* “Good point.”

(I left then, but I hope his next words were an apology!)

(I’m at the beach with my sister, when a random woman runs up to me, waving her hands frantically.)

Woman: *shouting* “Are you wearing red pants because you have your period?”

Me: “Uh, no?”

Woman: *calmer* “Crap. Any chance you have a tampon on you anyway?”

Me: “I do.”

(I hand her one and she quickly darts for the nearest bathroom. As she comes out, she shouts to me again from about 20 yards away.)

Woman: “Thank you, tampon lady!”

(We offer a lot of unique cards for all occasions. But after the holidays, our supplies are usually pretty low until we get new shipment in. A customer, roughly in her late forties to early fifties, approaches me.)

Customer: “Can you show me where your sympathy cards are?”

Me: “Right this way. They’ll be along this wall.”

Customer: “Are these all you have?”

Me: “Yes, these would be it. We’re still getting shipments in to recover from the holiday season.”

Customer: “People die a lot during the holidays.”

Me: “I’m so sorry to hear that…”

Customer: “No, no. It’s for the best.”

Me: *unsure what to say*

Customer: “I mean, everyone’s going to die. It’s just a matter of time. And it’s better for them. They go to a better place. You’d better brace yourself. Because one day, everyone you know will just start dropping dead.”

Me: *speechless*

Customer: “But it always leaves new openings for new beginnings.”

Me: *scrambling for anything to say in response* “Right. Like how the tarot card for death means the end of something so that something else can take its place.”

Customer: “Exactly. And it will be better. So it’s good that people die.”

(I am called away to ring people up, so I am working the cash register when she is checking out.)

Customer: *as she’s leaving* “Live life! Life is short! Your youth isn’t a guarantee!”

Me: “Have a good day?”