Our store regularly lists things on Craigslist. We have a really nice chainsaw that we’re selling. We put it on Craigslist at closing one day, and when we all come into work, we have about twelve replies from people wanting to buy it.

We copy-paste the same reply to everyone basically saying it is first come, first serve.

The first guy that shows up kicks the tires for a good fifteen minutes, which is really annoying everyone. The saw runs great and is in like-new condition, but…

Customer: *Complaining tone* “I can’t run a compression test on it, so you should give me a discount since it might have a weak motor.”

Owner: “It’s already quite significantly discounted.”

Customer: “Yeah… I don’t know… I think you need to go lower for me since it’s used.”

After a few more minutes of arguing, another customer walks in.

New Customer: “Do you still have the saw?”

He then sees it on the counter and puts the full asking price on the table in cash without even asking to test it out.

Owner: *To the first customer* “You going to pay asking price for this? Yes or no?”

Customer: “Uh… I don’t know—”

Owner: *To the new customer* “It’s yours.” 

The first customer swore at the owner, slammed our door open while walking out, and peeled out of our parking lot in his car.

I’m buying art supplies for my class (woohoo, slashed educational budgets again!), and I am keeping a close tally of how much I can get on my meager budget. I think I have managed to get what I need, and I head to the checkout counter.

Cashier: “Miss [My Name]?!”

Me: “Uh… yes?”

Cashier: “You taught me! Like ten years ago! At [School]!”

Me: “Oh, wow! Sorry! I spend so much time with eight-year-olds that I forget you all grow up! You’re… [Cashier], right?”

Cashier: “Wow! You remember!”

Me: “I remember you were great at art! I’m not surprised you work in an art store!”

Cashier: “Yeah, I loved art! Wait… Are you buying all this stuff for school?”

Me: “That’s right! Gotta get the next generation painting like you did! Oh, and I have a coupon!”

I hand my ex-student the coupon, which is for 15% off of one item only. I then notice that my cashier is scanning the coupon, scanning an item, typing something into the checkout computer, and then scanning the coupon again. For every item. He notices that I have noticed, and winks.

Cashier: “I was great at art… not so good at math.” 

I got a discount for EVERY item!

I was on break and checking my local state’s lottery website. One of the available lotteries would pay out $10,000 per month for the rest of my life. I figured the odds were ridiculously low, but I decided to play.

My boss wandered in and asked me what I was up to. I explained the winnings and my boss scoffed.

Boss: “Not worth it. Who can survive on only $10,000 a month, anyway?”

I stared at him until he shifted uncomfortably under my stare.

Boss: “What?”

Me: “[Boss], how much money do you think you’re paying ME?!”

My boss shut his mouth and fled from the break room. I just shook my head at how out of touch he was with reality. 

He avoided me for over a week.

My dad’s good friend did rubbish collections for a while when he was broke. Essentially a man with a van who would lump all your rubbish into the back of his pick-up and get rid of it for a fixed price.

He agreed a price to clear a lot of rubbish from a customer’s house, which took him half a day and filled his van.

As he was about to drive off, he requested payment.

Knowing that he had invested a lot of time and effort into collecting and loading all this rubbish, the customer tried to capitalise on his vulnerability and knock him down on price.

After a few choice words and the customer not budging, my dad’s mate got in his van without taking any money and started to drive off. He then backed up onto the customers drive.

Here’s where it gets interesting, what the customer obviously didn’t realise, was the van was a tipper van. As the bed of the van started rising, the customer was frantically offering the full amount of payment.

My dad’s mate, even though he was broke, refused to stop the tipper function and said the rubbish was piled up so high, the customer, who was standing there bewildered, wouldn’t have even been able to get in the front door. 

He drove off broke but happy.

I work in a pharmacy contained inside a larger grocery store. A woman comes to our counter with a cart containing some groceries, and two young boys are with her, obviously twins. She hands me a prescription for some medicine.

Me: “Are you on any insurance plans or Medicaid?”

Parent: “Sorry… my English… bad. Medicine… for them.”

She points at her boys; now that I am looking, they do look quite poorly. They translate for her.

Boy #1: “Mom doesn’t have any insurance. The clinic saw us for free but they couldn’t give us the medicine so they sent us here.”

Me: “I see. Does your mom know that this medicine will cost over a hundred dollars?”

The boy translates to the mother, who looks shocked and then a little broken as she looks at her groceries and then at her boys. She says something to them, and again, they translate.

Boy #2: “It’s okay, we can put this back. Mom says she’ll buy the medicine.”

I glance at her cart and see what looks like only essentials: store brand bread, eggs, cereal, some canned goods. The whole cart probably comes to less than thirty dollars.

Me: “We have some ways we might be able to bring that cost down if—”

Boy #1: “Mom doesn’t have papers. She’s… seeking asylum.”

The fact that the young boy knew what I was about to ask and had that well-rehearsed answer ready to go told me all I needed to know.

I get the prescription ready, but instead of charging her for it at our counter, I print a label intended to be scanned at the checkout. This isn’t normal practise, but we can do this if we’re unable to take payment at the pharmacy. I hand the medication with the label to the boy.

Me: “Take this to the checkout counter and you can pay there.”

The boys both nod and they explain to their mother. As soon as they’re gone, I furiously call the checkout manager. As soon as she picks up, I explain what just happened.

Me: “My hands are tied on this end — I can’t discount the medication — but surely you have some coupons or gift cards on your side? Is there something you can do?”

Checkout Manager: “How much was the medication?”

Me: “$112.”

Checkout Manager: “Leave it with me.”

Fifteen minutes later, the checkout manager comes over to find me. I ask what happened.

Checkout Manager: “Such sweet boys! I think they struggled to translate for their mom what a ‘ten-thousandth customer of the month’ prize was, but explaining the $150 coupons of store credit was a lot easier!”

A few minutes later, we both saw the mother and her two boys shopping again, picking up the essentials they had diligently returned to the shelves earlier.