I work in a party supply store. I’m helping a group consisting of two women, two teenagers, and three children pick out costumes for everyone but the women. The teens are able to decide quickly but the kids, being kids, keep changing their minds.

I get the costumes for the teens, bring them back, and let the group know to get my attention whenever they’ve decided.

So I’m not hovering over them, I busy myself with straightening up the shelves a bit down the aisle. I finish one and I’m about to start on another when I hear a voice speak up.

Customer: “So they pay you to ignore people?”

I look up to see that a new lady has joined them and see the reactions of the group itself standing behind her: one teen is actually facepalming while one woman is shaking her head in what I assume to be exasperation.

I barely process her comment before she makes another one.

Customer: “You must be seasonal or somethin’; you look slow.”

The group stares at her in shock and I’m very glad my mask hides my expression. I turn to the rest of the group, remind them to let me know whenever the kids have decided, and walk further down the aisle away from them.

For the next fifteen minutes, I’m busy helping other customers, but the woman keeps spotting me in the few seconds afterward, and every time, she makes a rude comment about me doing nothing or being slow.

As the kids finally decide their costumes and I hand them off to their moms, she comments:

Customer: “Looks like you’re finally working.”

I bite my tongue and walk away. As I get to the end of the aisle, I hear one of the other ladies yell:

Customer’s Friend: “Why are you like this every time we shop?!”

(A customer and her boyfriend have gone back and forth in the store, laughing and joking. Suddenly, they both come up to the counter to my manager.)

Customer: “Excuse me. Have I been here before?”

Manager: “No, not that I know of.”

Customer: “Have you and I ever met?”

Manager: “No.”

Customer: *to my coworker and me* “What about you two?”

Us: “No.”

Customer: “Right. Now, tell me that a camo-themed birthday wouldn’t be cute for a girl. She could be a majorette.”

Boyfriend: “We ain’t having no majorette party.”

Customer: “If you can spell ‘majorette,’ then we won’t do it. Can you spell majorette?”

Boyfriend: *suddenly angry* “I can spell ‘kiss my a**’!” *storms out to be followed by his laughing girlfriend*

Manager: “Did that really just happen?”

(I work at a store that mostly sells pranks and novelty items, and the staff often jokes around with customers. An older man has come in and I am quickly able to help him find the item that he is looking for. We have two counters in our store — one up front and one in the back — but our only register is at the front counter. We are located at the back counter, and the man has remained quiet the whole time, and before I can direct him up front, he silently shoves a hundred dollar bill in my face.)

Me: “Actually, sir, we’ll need to check out up front, but I’ll be happy to take that bill off your hands!” *laughs*

Customer: *completely somber, putting the bill back into his wallet* “It’s just like a woman to ask for money and take it.”

Me: “Um… Let’s go get you checked out.”

(I work at a party shop that sells balloons as well as the option to have them inflated with helium to make them float. A middle-aged customer walks in with balloons on ribbons that are tied to a balloon weight. The balloons are clearly just filled with air as they are dragging along the floor, not floating at all.)

Customer: “Hi! I’m so confused. I inflated the balloons that I bought from you but they’re not floating! Is something wrong with them?”

Me: “How did you inflate them? Did you hire a helium cylinder from us or do you have access to helium?”

Customer: “Oh! No, I just inflated them by mouth. I thought it would be cheaper than helium.”

Me: “Yes, it’s cheaper but balloons don’t float with air. They need to be inflated with helium to float.”

Customer: “Oh! Really?!”

(I can’t stop picturing the customer sitting at home, huffing and puffing away and not understanding why her breath isn’t making the balloons float.)

 Related:
No Helium For The Airhead, Part 2
No Helium For The Airhead

(I work at a popular party supply store. I overhear a young boy, maybe eight, say this to his mom after they finish their transaction.)

Boy: “Now get me out of here, or else I’m gonna die.”

(Me, too, kid.)