I was switching between the register and customer service. An older lady came in with her grandchildren, wanting to find a gift for the older boy. I gave a few suggestions at her request, but she shut down all my attempts. I let her do her thing and choose for herself. Finally, after shuffling through everything, she went to pay.

Customer: “I’d like the points on my [Store] account.”

Me: “You have a $2 discount, but sadly, this item is non-discountable because of the brand.”

She was not happy. She raised her voice.

Customer: “Why do I have so little saved up?!”

Me: “The only way to have points is to buy stuff more often.”

The price was $23. She leaned in and asked, in a hushed tone:

Customer: “Could you do me a favor, since I’m a very good client?” *She’s not.*

Seeing as I wouldn’t budge regarding the discount, she angrily threw the toy.

Customer: *To me.* “You’re not very bright!” *To her grandson.* “It’s too expensive! Choose something else!”

The child had a tantrum and threw himself down. After everything calmed down, she went to pay for a different toy. I scanned it, and it was $25. 

This time I could apply the $2. 

She looked smug.

Customer: “Now I can have my points!”

So… this lady really made a scene to finally pay the same amount that was “too expensive” minutes ago?!

Well, that was a weird day.

Our restaurant’s power cuts out entirely. The restaurant’s hum dies: no music, no buzzing fridges, no lights. The customers are looking around at us and at each other.

Me: *To the dining room customers.* “Sorry, folks! Looks like the power’s out across the block. We can still finish service, but the card machines are down. Cash would be easier, please.”

Immediately, a chorus of complaints rises up.

Customer #1: “Oh, I don’t carry cash.”

Customer #2: “Same here.”

Customer #3: “Who even has cash anymore?”

I sigh. We do have a backup, but it’s a relic from the Stone Age. I grab the old carbon-copy imprinter from under the counter; the chunky thing you slam over the card to get an imprint.

Me: “No problem. Just pop your card here and we’ll run it through later.”

I swipe the imprinter across one customer’s card. The loud, scraping ka-chunk sound echoes through the room.

Customer #2: *Eyes wide.* “Wait… what are you doing with my card?!”

Me: “This is how we’re going to take down your credit card details so we can process the payment later.”

Customer #2: “But I don’t want my credit card details written down.”

I say nothing. There’s a pause. Then, like magic, people start patting pockets, digging through purses, running to their cars.

Customer #1: *Returning, sheepish, holding bills.* “Uh… turns out I did have cash after all.”

Customer #3: *Handing me a twenty.* “Yeah, me too. Must’ve slipped my mind.”

Customer #4: *Jogging back in from the parking lot, clutching cash.* “Guess I had some emergency money stashed away.”

Within minutes, every single “cashless” diner has somehow “discovered” cash. The imprint machine sits unused on the counter. We’ve never had to use it for its intended purpose, but it sure is a great lie detector!

I was working as a sign painter’s apprentice years ago, and we did a bunch of hand lettering work for a local church, the main sign out front, their van, and on their main glass doors.

My boss slams down the phone and, red in the face, spins around in his chair.

Boss: “That was the minister. He says he’s not paying. Said there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Me: “After three months of excuses? Seriously?”

Boss: “Oh, there’s something we can do about it. Are you willing to meet me here tomorrow at 2 AM?”

Me: “Uh… I’m getting paid?”

Boss: “Of course!”

Me: “Then yes.”

The next night, it’s quiet; the whole village is asleep. We ride our bikes under the cover of darkness, backpacks clinking with supplies. We stop in front of the church, the van glinting in the streetlight, the proud glass doors gleaming with the hand-painted lettering we’d worked so hard on.

Boss: *Pulling out four cans of Easy-Off.* “God may forgive, but oven cleaner won’t.”

We spray everything. Every careful brushstroke, every letter, until the paint bubbles and melts. Then we rinse it all down with a weed sprayer. By the time we’re done, the signs look like blank slates, as if we’d never been there at all.

Me: *Chuckling as the paint washes into the gutter.* “Guess he was right, there’s nothing we can do, but we can undo.”

Back at the shop, we crack open a couple of beers and lean back, watching the clock tick past 4 AM.

Boss: “That’s that. If he calls, I’ll tell him to pray on it.”

He never did call. Six months later, the local paper carried the headline: “Minister Charged with Embezzlement, Removed from Position.”

I work in a superstore that’s connected to a mall. 

A customer walks up to me as I’m walking around the store with a price gun.

Customer: “The lamp you sell in the furnishing aisle. It’s a dollar cheaper this week! That’s not fair!”

Me: “Prices do change frequently, sir. I just change them as I’m told; I don’t always know why.”

Customer: “But I got that lamp last week, and now I’m out a dollar! Give me a dollar!”

Me: “Do you have the receipt?”

Customer: “Who walks around with week-old receipts?!”

Me: “Well, the next time you’re in the store, bring the receipt with you and bring it to the customer service desk. They should be able to help you.”

The customer huffs but walks away.

Three hours later, he marches back over to me.

Customer: “Here! I have the receipt now!”

I walk him over to an assistance desk and start processing a price match for him. As I’m doing so, I’m making small talk.

Me: “Oh, so you did have the receipt on you after all?”

Customer: “No! I had to drive home and get it! You have no idea how annoying that was! I live forty minutes away! I had to dig around the trash to get it! And then I almost ran out of gas on the way back and had to find a gas station! You should make it easier for me to get my dollar back!”

Me: “Sir, I said the next time you come in you could bring the receipt. I didn’t suggest you make a dedicated journey for it.”

Customer: “You were just hoping I’d forget! I know how you tricky people work! Well, you’re not gonna win with me! I won’t allow it!”

Yeah, he wasted three hours of his Saturday, had to rifle through his own trash, and had to top up his gas… for a dollar. Yup, he sure is the winner here…

My very first customer of the day comes in and tries to pay with a $100 bill.

Me: “We don’t have the change for that, since we just opened.”

He gives me the puppy eyes and says:

Customer: “It’s all I have.”

With a sigh, I take it and, of course, there’s no change for it in the register, and my manager says there isn’t enough in the safe. We go through the lengthy process of reversing the old order.

Customer: “Ugh, okay, fine, I’ll pay with my card.”

Are you freaking serious, you lying little gremlin?!

But it didn’t end there. Oh no. 

My next customer orders a meal for $19. But does he hand me a $20? Of course not. $100.

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry, but we definitely don’t have the change for this. We just opened, and I know for sure we don’t have it.”

Naturally, the LITERAL IMPOSSIBILITY of this transaction isn’t going to deter him. After all, it’s all he has! He insists I get my manager, who again comes and says we don’t have change.

Customer #2: “Ugh, okay, fine, I’ll pay with this $20.”

Two coworkers called out that day, and we definitely didn’t have time for this foolishness. These kinds of customers can eat rocks!