(It was my first week working in the deli of a local grocery store. Things were going fine with no retail horror story occurrences, until the day I met the man I call the Cheese Nazi.)

Customer: “I want a pound of American cheese, sliced thin.”

Me: “Sure thing! Do you want that white or yellow?”

Customer: *looking at me with disgust* “The only color an American SHOULD be… WHITE!”

Me: “Ohh… kay. White it is.”

(I slice his racially pure cheese, weigh it, and bag it.)

Customer: “A half-pound of the mustard potato salad, too.”

Me: “Sure thing. I can’t do anything about the color of this one, though.”

Customer: *grunts* “Whatever.”

(I dish up his potato salad, weigh it, label it, and almost put the lid on when he stops me.)

Customer: “Stop!”

(He picks out a larger chunk of potato that still had a bit of the dark brown peel on one side, and flicks it at me, bouncing it off my neck.)

Customer: “That one was the n*****.”

(According to my parents, I started talking at nine months old. This led them to be concerned about my younger brother, who was saying little more than, “Mama,” or, “Dada” at over a year.  Testing showed there was nothing wrong with his hearing, and the pediatrician advised my parents that all children were different and to just be patient with him. We’re all relaxing at home on a weekend, and my brother and I have been quietly playing together. Suddenly my brother stands up and toddles over to my father.)

Brother: *loudly and plainly* “GIMME A BEER!”

Father: *dying laughing*

Mother: “Well… at least he’s talking!”

(After that, my brother continued to speak in complete sentences. We’re not sure what caused the initial delay; my best theory is that he was waiting until he had something important to say.)

(It’s a quiet moment at the registers. Two of my coworkers and I are talking about coming out, as one of my coworkers and I are both gay. The phone rings and one of my coworkers goes to answer it. She pauses for a second before talking.)

Coworker: “Thanks for calling [Store].”

(She listens to the caller before transferring them to the right department. Once she sets the phone down, she buries her face in her hands.)

Coworker: “I almost answered with, ‘Hi, I’m gay!’”

(We had a good laugh about it.)

(I’m working as a cashier in a computer retail store. I haven’t had much experience with scams at the register. The policy is that if a card does not go through the card reader, we can enter it in manually, but if it’s still rejected a phone number will automatically pop up on the registers for us to try and call to authorize the purchase with a code they give us. A lot of the time this will happen if it’s a large, out-of-the-ordinary purchase. This gentleman comes up to purchase multiple Apple products worth $5,000.)

Me: “Okay, your total is [amount]. How would you like to pay?”

Scammer: “Oh, I have this credit card, but it’s not like a normal credit card. It’s for a trust fund, so I’ll have to call my bank on my phone and they’ll give you the authorization number.”

(Red Flag #1.)

Me: “Oh, um, okay, let’s just run it through the normal way and see what happens.” *runs card but it’s denied*

Scammer: “See? I told you. Here. I’ll call my bank and they can give the okay.” *begins to dial*

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk to your bank on your phone; I have to go through my system. Let me try it manually.”

(I go through the steps, calling the number on my register to give the information. The customer is beginning to get more and more agitated as the time goes on. The card is denied again.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but your card has been declined. Do you have another form of payment?”

Scammer: “No, I already told you this isn’t like a normal card.” *starts shoving his phone in my face* “My bank is on the phone right now; talk to them!”

Me: “Sir, that is not how we can authorize cards. I cannot verify who is on the other end of your phone.”

Scammer: “Get me your manager! I’m trying to spend my good money here!”

(The scammer goes through the same song and dance with my manager. My manager backs me up, denying the customer.)

Scammer: *throw his hands in the air* “Fine! FINE! You just lost a customer; I’m never coming here again!” *storms off*

Me: *under my breath* “No, please, come back and steal from us!”

(I was commended for standing my ground and not giving in to him.)

(I work in a grocery store in the deli department. It is very close to closing time for our department. I’m pretty tired when this customer approaches me.)

Customer: “Do you have any lactose cheese?”

Me: “Um… we’re done slicing for the night, but I can help you look on the shelf. What kind of cheese?”

Customer: “I don’t know, lactose cheese!”

Me: “Ma’am, lactose just means it has milk in it. Are you looking for a swiss, a cheddar—“

Customer: “Yes! Cheddar!”

Me: “Okay.”

(We go look and I find that all the cheddar cheeses on our shelves have milk, and therefore lactose, in them.)

Me: “Was there a specific brand you were looking for?”

Customer: “I don’t know! He just needs lactose cheese for his diet! He has to have lactose!”

Me: “Well… all these cheeses have lactose in them… but I’ve never heard of needing lactose for a diet. I’ve heard of lactose-free cheese—“

Customer: “Yes! Lactose-free!”

Me: *sudden realization* “Ohhh, you mean lactose-free cheese… Um…”

(My coworker sees me struggling with this customer.)

Coworker: “Can I help you find something?”

Customer: “Yes! Lactose cheese!”

Me: “Lactose-free cheese…”

Coworker: “Ah, yes, that would most likely be in our kosher section.”

Me: *lightly slaps head* “Urgh, how did I forget about the kosher section?”

Coworker: “It’s just down here, this way.”

(My coworker finished helping the customer find the cheese while I went back to the department to finish cleaning the last slicer and marvel at how brainless both the customer and I were.)