I get a job as a grocery store cashier when I am in my late teens. I do my best to perform my job to the best of my ability, but I’m not jumping to do more than I’m paid for. One day, my manager sends me on break without a replacement, so I sign out of my register, turn off my light, and put a chain across the lane. Simple. That’s what every cashier is supposed to do when closing down a lane.

Before I can leave the closed lane, however, I’m stopped by a man at least ten years my senior with a mustache and a baseball cap. There’s no way around it: he looks like a stereotypical kidnapper from a school safety video.

Man: “You’re a cashier, right?”

Me: *Baffled* “Yes, sir, but I’m on my break right now.”

Man: “I can see! Thank you for closing down your lane properly! So many people don’t do that!”

He continues talking about how rare it is to find a cashier who correctly closes down their lane until I make an excuse and scurry away because I don’t want to waste my fifteen-minute break.

When I come back, the man is talking with one of my managers. Then, he spots me and points.

Man: “Right there, that’s her! She turned off her light and put the chain across the lane! She did everything right! It’s so rare to see that!”

Seeing my deer-in-the-headlights look, my manager just nods and lets me get back to my register.

I see the man a third time several hours later when I am grabbing something after my shift. By now, I am starting to get suspicious of having an oddly complimentary stalker. After telling a few family members about the situation, they advise me to give my managers a heads-up if I see him again or if his behavior becomes inappropriate.

Sure enough, he is back the next day, in the same shirt no less, so I bring it up quietly with my manager when she has a spare moment, mentioning that I saw him three times yesterday over the span of my eight-hour shift.

Manager: “Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s with corporate, so he tends to spend a while here.”

Me: “Oh, thank goodness. I thought he was some kind of stalker.”

I even saw him in the break room a couple of times. I still feel a little bad for thinking he was stalking me, but when you’re a small woman working with the public, you tend to be on your guard!

I’ve worked in IT almost my entire life. This takes place in the mid-1980s when I’m working at a computer store. I receive a phone call.

Me: “Hello, you are calling [Store], [My Name] speaking. How may I help you today?”

Man: “My computer won’t work. The screen is just blank.”

Me: “That’s strange. Can you te—”

The man cuts me off.

Man: “It works in ‘I’ mode, but not in ‘O’ mode.”

“I” mode and “O” mode?

Me: “If it works in ‘I’ mode, then just keep it there, sir.”

Man: “Thank you! You’ve been a huge help!”

The man hung up.

How did this dude not know that “I” stands for “on” and “O” stands for “off”?

I’m a cashier in a grocery store. All the signage around the registers says that we have to card anyone buying age-restricted items if they look under forty, but all of our training says we have to card anyone who looks under fifty. We’re trained to err on the side of caution.

I’m not the best at guessing ages, so I usually refrain from asking for ID only if my customer looks to have one foot in the grave. Usually, this works pretty well, and some older people are flattered that I ask for ID, but every once in a while…

Me: “Could I see your ID, please?”

Customer: “I’m old as dirt.”

Me: “Given the wonderful nature of geology, there’s new dirt every day.”

He showed me his ID.

I work in a grocery store, covering different customer service positions as needed. Employee lockers are quite small and squat, and mine is on the very bottom, so I have to squat or kneel to get to it.

One evening, I close my locker and stand up without realizing that someone next to me has opened their own locker above me.

BAM. Stinging pain in my head. I let out a startled, “Ow!” and my coworker frantically apologizes. It’s the tail end of my break, so I head up to the front of the store to ask my supervisor what to do. Worst case scenario, that’s where we keep the first aid kit.

Supervisor: “Hey, welcome back. We’re gonna have you bag for [register].”

Me: “Got it. But before I go, is there any blood on my head?”

Supervisor: “WHAT?!”

He frantically circled around me, looking for any sign of blood on my scalp, while I explained how I’d whacked it.

Luckily, it didn’t result in anything worse than a headache and some minor tenderness for a few days after the stinging passed, and now I know that my supervisor will have my back if I ever get a more serious injury on the job.

I’m a shift manager at a fast food restaurant. Every so often when we are seriously busy, we’ll have an entitled customer come up to the counter on the side, put some money down, and say:

Customer: “Hey, get me a [food item]. I’m in a hurry. Here’s the exact change.”

We always point to the end of the line and say:

Us: “You need to wait your turn like everyone else.”

We then proceed to ignore any protesting they may give.

There was one persistent princess who would come to the side of the counter, put some money down, and yell something like:

Customer #2: “SWIRL ICE CREAM!”

Being that he had pulled this stunt no fewer than five times that I know of, I would give him a dirty look and continue past him.

Then, one day, I was reviewing footage in the kitchen after an employee was injured. By chance, I noticed someone outside standing at one of the open windows and putting two fingers in his mouth in a whistling gesture.

A crew member walked up to the window, and the two very briefly exchanged words before the crew member angrily slammed the window shut.

I backed up and zoomed in to get a better look, and wouldn’t you know, it was the aforementioned persistent princess.

I called in the crew member and pointed to the screen.

Me: “Tell me he didn’t…!”

Employee: “OH, YES, HE DID! He whistled at me, and when I came over to see if there was some kind of problem, he tossed a couple of dollars on the sill and told me to go make him an ice cream sundae and to hurry up! I’ll take the write-up for shutting the window in his face, but nothing says I have to—”

Me: *Loudly interrupting* “You can go right back to your station because no, nothing says anyone here has to put up with that! You did exactly what I personally would have done!”

Thankfully, it was after that incident that the princess learned to wait his turn like everyone else.