I am a cashier in the drive-thru and a car full of guys come through. 

Me: “Any sauces or any salt?”

Dude: “You’re hot.”

Me: “Thank you. Can I get any sauces for you?”

I try not to be rude when people say things like this but it always makes me uncomfortable.

Dude: “You could make so much more money if you’d let me help you.”

Me: “I’m sorry.”

Dude: “Come work with me; you’ll make tons of money with me.”

His friend from in the car pipes up.

Dude’s Friend: “He’s the best pimp I’ve ever met.”

Me: “You’re a pimp?”

Dude: “Yup.”

My manager has overheard and comes over. I’m very uncomfortable. I’m trying to give them their food and they’re refusing until I give them an answer.

Manager: “Okay, here’s your food, and here’s some salt. Have a good day.”

After the car left, the manager told me that they come by every once in a while and try to get the girls to “work with them.” I’m still hoping they were kidding.

I work in a store that asks customers for their phone number or email for our loyalty program. This is something I’ve encountered multiple times.

Me: “And what’s a good email or phone number for you?”

The customer gives me their phone number.

Me: “Oh, it looks like you’re not in the system. It only takes about two minutes to get you updated and you get discounts that non-members don’t.”

The customer complies and we fill put their loyalty information. We get to the email portion.

Me: “It says your email is already in the system. Let’s try that.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah. I get emails from you guys all the time. I should be in there under my email.”

Me: *Internal facepalm*

Part of my job at a grocery store is bagging groceries, as well as doing carryouts. One old lady is in line and is buying a large case of bottled water, which are pretty heavy. I’m female and 5’4″, but I have no trouble lifting the cases of water.

Cashier: “Here’s your receipt. Would you like some help out today?”

Old Lady: “Yes, please. The water is very heavy.”

Cashier: “All right. [My Name] will be glad to help you out.”

Old Lady: “Oh. Are you sure? Maybe you should ask one of the boys to do it.”

Me: “I can assure you, ma’am, that I have no trouble lifting those waters. I’m more than happy to help you out.”

Old Lady: “But they’re very heavy. Maybe one of the boys can do it.”

Cashier: “[My Name] does it all the time. She’s pretty strong.”

Old Lady: “I guess.”

I push her cart to her car for her and begin loading her groceries in. I lift the case of water into her car with ease.

Old Lady: “It’s heavy, isn’t it?”

Me: “It’s not too bad. I have to lift them all the time so I’m used to the weight.”

Old Lady: “Sure.”

She didn’t tip me like most customers do when I do a carryout. I didn’t expect a tip; she seemed nasty from the start.

I am bagging a customer’s groceries as she is about to pay.

Customer: *Looking at the card machine* “What am I supposed to do?”

Cashier: “What does the screen say?”

Customer: “It says, ‘Insert, swipe, or tap.’ What does that mean?”

Cashier: “If you’re paying with a card, then insert it if it has a chip. If it doesn’t, go ahead and swipe it.”

Customer: “I’m not paying with a card. I’m paying with cash. Do I swipe it or insert it?”

The cashier glances at me with a look that says, “Is she serious?”

Cashier: “If you’re paying with cash, you can just hand it to me.”

Customer: “Oh. These machines are so confusing! It didn’t tell me what to do with my cash, so how am I supposed to know to hand it to you?”

Cashier: “Well, they are card machines.”

It’s a summer weekend at the casino, which means that it’s loud, it’s crowded, and there are quite a few people about. Fortunately, my job tonight is to clean the restaurant dining rooms. This is probably my favorite assignment. It’s busy work, but as the restaurants are closed by the time I get to them, I get to avoid dealing with people.

For the most part, anyway.

It’s about midnight, so by now, I’ve worked my way up toward the front of my first restaurant. A man walks in. I shut off my vacuum and am about to greet him when I notice where he is.

He’s standing before a set of two large glass doors, one of which has a large red sign reading, in large white letters, “EMERGENCY EXIT.” These doors are, of course, an emergency exit.

I freeze with a mixture of shock and dread. He’s… not actually going to try to use these doors, is he?

Oh, God, he is.

As he reaches out a hand to open the door, I shout out:

Me: “Wait! That’s an emergency exit!”

I’m too late. The door with the large red sign opens, the alarm sounds, and the man pauses, as if shocked by this turn of events.

By now, I am close enough that I can smell the problem on his breath. I guide him back to an actual exit, which is easy to miss even when you’re sober. The phone being too close to the alarm, I make my way to security to explain what happened and so they can send someone to turn off the alarm.

A few weeks pass. Once again, I’m assigned to clean the restaurants. Once again, it’s about midnight, meaning that once again, I am cleaning up near the front of my first restaurant when a group of women walks in, stopping before the set of two large glass doors, one of which has a large red sign reading, in large white letters, “EMERGENCY EXIT.” These doors are, of course, still an emergency exit.

“Oh, God, not again,” I groan to myself.

I shut off the vacuum and run up to them.

Woman: “Can we go out this way?”

Me: “No.”

I point to the large red sign which reads, in large white letters, “EMERGENCY EXIT.”

Me: “This is an emergency exit.”

I guided them to the actual exit and returned to my vacuuming, lamenting the lack of common sense in this world.