(A woman comes up to the counter where I am manning the register. She has her teenaged daughter in tow.)

Me: “Hi, can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes, we’re just going to get this dress for my daughter. She’s going to her homecoming dance. She finally has a date. For a while we thought she was a lesbian, but then–”

Customer’s Daughter: “MOM! ”

Me: “Right then. That’ll be $56.99.”

Customer: “What?! That sign said it was 50% off!”

Me: “Er, I don’t think so. Let me check the system… Sorry, ma’am, our system says it’s full price.”

Customer: “That’s crazy! I saw it with my own eyes!” *walks off*

(I wait on several more customers before the woman comes back, holding a sign that says 50% off, obviously handmade with a marker and a piece of paper.)

Customer: “See? I told you so.”

Me: “Ma’am, where did you get that sign?”

Customer: “I just got it off the rack.”

Me: “Ma’am, those signs are welded to the rack. It’s apparent you just made that.”

Customer: “I’m going to sue you for false advertising!”

Me: “And we’ll sue you for trying to screw us over.”

Customer’s Daughter: “Mom, just stop.”

Customer: “We’re leaving!”

(A man is picking up a prescription for his infant child.)

Customer: “How much did you say the prescription was?”

Me: “$49.99.”

Customer: “What’s the difference between this and what I can get over the counter?”

Me: “There’s no cough medicine you can give your eight-month-old, sir, other than this.”

Customer: “Well, what’s in it?”

(He picks up the prescription papers and starts rustling through them.)

Customer: “If I can buy everything that’s in it over the counter, I’ll just make it myself.”

Me: “…excuse me?”

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(A customer and her young son are buying a bag of birdseed when she notices a picture of my horse on the board behind me.)

Customer: “Oh, what a beautiful horse! Is he a black stallion?”

Me: “Actually, ma’am, he’s a gelding.”

Customer: “Oh… what’s the difference?”

Me: “A gelding is a male horse who’s been castrated.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “Uh… a male horse who’s been neutered.”

Customer: “I don’t understand.”

Me: “A male horse who’s had his testicles surgically removed.”

Customer: “I still don’t…”

Me: “A horse with no balls, ma’am.”

Customer: *covering her son’s ears* “My goodness! My son’s only five, you know! He doesn’t need to hear that language!”

Me: “…have a nice day, ma’am.”

Customer: *with child in tow* “Excuse me, do you work here?”

Me: “Yes, can I help you find something?”

Customer: “There’s no one in your children’s department.”

Me: “Ma’am?”

Customer: “There’s usually one of you people in the kids’ department.”

Me: “Yes, our lead children’s zoning person called out today.”

Customer: “Well, then, just who is supposed to watch the children?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, what do you mean?”

Customer: “Who’s going to watch the children? I leave my little girl over there while I shop, and I expect someone to watch her.”

Me: “…”

Customer: In your children’s department. The DAYCARE.”

Me: “Ma’am… we don’t have a daycare.”

Customer: “…” *walks away*

(My checkout is right at the top of the escalators, with four kids ranging in age from about 7-13 were playing on them.)

Me: “Guys, please don’t play on the escalators, you could get hurt.”

(The kids go away for all of a minute, then return.)

Me: “I asked you to please stop playing on the escalator.”

(A woman emerges from a display a few yards away.)

Customer: “Don’t tell my kids what to do!”

Me: “Ma’am, then please keep them away from the escalators, it’s dangerous.”

Customer: “Don’t tell me what to do!”

(Just then, one of her little kids falls down the escalator.)

Me: “You were saying, ma’am?”

Customer: *storms off*