(I’m one of the main employees in our men’s department, and before that I was a cashier. Our youngest, newest cashier calls me over to help with an older woman’s exchange. There are three belts on the counter, two tagged and one untagged.)

Cashier: “We’re trying to do a non-receipted return to exchange this belt for that belt, but there isn’t a tag.”

Customer: “I bought them for my husband, but he got sick and he lost a lot of weight, so now these don’t fit him. He didn’t even get a chance to wear them, see?”

(She shuffles around the belts while saying this, making it hard to tell which is the one she bought and which is the new one.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, do you have the receipt?”

Customer: “No, I can’t find it. But I found this belt—” *holds up one of them* “—so can’t we just exchange it?”

Me: “Sorry, these are separate belts, so the computer recognizes them as different and we have to ring them up.” *looks at the back of the belt* “Wait, this still has the manufacturer’s tag. Try scanning that; they usually work for belts.”

(The cashier scans the belt, and it comes up at $0.01, which means it’s marked out of stock and we can’t return it.)

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, this came up out of stock; we can’t return it for you.”

Customer: “But it hasn’t been used!” *she repeats her whole story* “Can’t you just exchange it for this belt?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but these are clearly different belts by separate brands.” *I point out how the belt buckles differ* “And our store policy states that we can’t return anything that’s been marked out of stock without a receipt.”

Customer: “Wait, wait, let me take a look.” *she takes out her wallet, goes through a pouch that’s neatly filled with various receipts, and pulls one out after maybe five seconds of searching* “Is that the right receipt?”

Me: “It is!” *looks at date* “Ma’am, this receipt is over two years old.”

Customer: “So? I have the receipt!”

Me: “Ma’am, our return policy only lasts 60 days. It’s written on the receipt. After 60 days, we can only return for store credit at the current selling price, and we can’t return merchandise that’s been marked out of stock, at all.”

Customer: “But I have a receipt!”

Me: “I’m sorry. Sometimes the managers will stretch things if it’s a few days past the date, but this is more than two years past when you should have returned it. Even if we could, you’d only get a penny.”

Customer: “But it’s a [Brand] belt! You still have them back there; I just looked!”

Me: “We may still have the brand, but we don’t have that particular belt. I just finished organizing them all by type the other day; we don’t have any like that. That’s what ‘marked out of stock’ means.”

(The customer begins yelling about how she found it in her closet that morning and her husband hadn’t even taken it out of the bag, and repeating the story that he’s been sick. She’s holding up the line, and the poor cashier looks like she might cry.)

Me: “Do you want me to call a manager for you?”

Customer: “Yes! This is a disgrace!”

(I call a manager over. She listens to the story, looks at the receipt and the register, and proceeds to repeat everything I just said about our return policy.)

Customer: “Now what am I supposed to do?”

Manager: “We usually recommend that customers donate items we can’t return.”

(The customer leaves in a huff.)

Me: “Well, I’m glad that at least her husband’s feeling better!”

(In a Shakespeare class, we’re talking about gender presentation in the play, “As You Like It.”)

Professor: “Is sex really symmetrical?”

Classmate: “If you do it right, it is.”

Professor: *dryly* “I’m not talking about f******.”

(I work in a popular craft store as a cashier. The cashiers are all versions of customer service, doing returns and answering the phone, as well. On a particularly slow day in February, I get an interesting call.)

Me: *answering the phone* “[Store] in [Location]. This is [My Name] speaking. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Hi, what store is this?”

Me: “Um, [Store].”

Caller: “Okay, so, what kind of establishment is this, then?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

(I think the caller is asking what sort of building we are.)

Caller: “What kind of store are you?”

Me: “A craft store.”

Caller: “What sort of stuff do you sell?”

Me: “Crafts and crafting supplies.”

Caller: “So, would you sell remote controlled cars?”

(Earlier in the year, around Christmas season, we sold remote controlled helicopters, but I have never heard of us, or any competitor, selling remote controlled cars.)

Me: “No, but we have model cars. If you want a remote controlled one, I’d recommend [Large Chain Store that sells everything] that is right across the parking lot.”

Caller: “Do you have their number, then?”

Me: “No, but I’m sure you could easily find it.”

Caller: *suddenly very angry* “You’re absolutely no help at all!” *hangs up*

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(I am from Texas. Two ladies walk up to the counter with their items they want to buy.)

Me: “Is that everything y’all will be getting?”

Lady #1: “What did you call us? You think just because we came here you can call us whatever you want?! Well, I tell you this: I will not let you do this. Let me speak to your manager! NOW!

Me: *stunned* “Okay.”

(I call my manager.)

Manager: “What is going on?”

Lady #1: “Your employee just called us some horrendous name that I dare not repeat. I insist that he is fired.”

Manager: *to me* “What did you say?”

Me: “All I said was, ‘Is that everything y’all will be getting?’”

Lady #1: “See! That word.” *hesitantly* “…y’all.”

Lady #2: *who has been quiet the whole time* “Is that what you have been ranting about? That is obviously a Texas accent!”

Lady #1: “No, it is not!”

Me, My Manager, & Lady #2: *in unison* “Yes it is.”

Lady #1: “No, you are all conspiring against me. No. I will not give in. NO!”

([Lady #1] then runs out of the store.)

Lady #2: “I am sorry for her.”

Me: “It is okay, but that definitely made my day!”

(I work at a women’s clothing store. Like all other clothing stores, we have mannequins with some outfits displayed. We often have to take a piece of clothing off of a mannequin if that happens to be the last one of that size and a customer needs it. I am straightening things up on one of our display tables when I am approached by who I think is a customer. She is clearly angry and offended.)

Woman: “Excuse me, but there is a mannequin without a shirt. You need to fix that right now because it is inappropriate to be looking at!”

Me: *kind of scared because of the random outburst* “Uh, okay. I’ll check with a manager and figure out what top is supposed to be on it, then.”

(The woman storms off, muttering something about “p*rnography.” Then, she sits right on the bench outside of our store and stares in, clearly waiting for something to be done about this horrible thing. I go to check the planning binder and then pull the shirt from the rack. As I am getting ready to take the sensor off of the shirt, my manager, who is on the phone, looks at me.)

Manager: “You’re good to clock out. [Other Worker] is here now.”

Me: “All right. I’ll put this shirt on the mannequin on my way up. Some woman was offended by it.”

Manager: *into phone* “Hold on, [Other Manager].” *to me* “What?”

Me: “Some lady came in and told me that one of our mannequins doesn’t have a shirt and it’s highly inappropriate and we need to fix it now!“

Manager: “Is she still here?”

Me: “Well, she’s sitting on the bench right outside of the store and staring in.”

Manager: *repeats it to the other manager on the phone and laughs* “No, let it sit there. I’ll get to it when I get to it. She can deal with it. If she complains again, I’ll put our most see-through bra on it.”

(I clocked out, did my bag and coat check, and as I walked out of the store the woman was STILL on the bench glaring at me.)