I’m dealing blackjack on a table quite close to the cashier when a customer comes up to me and throws US currency on the table.

Customer: “I’ll get that all in $100 chips, thanks.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, I can’t change that currency for you on the table, but if you take it to the cashier they can exchange it for you.”

Customer: “It’s money, though.”

Me: “Yes, sir, but not Australian currency, and I’m afraid I can’t exchange it for you, but if you take it—”

Customer: “The exchange is about ninety cents US to your dollar.”

Me: “I can’t just guess the exchange rate, sir.”

Customer: “It’s like you don’t even know how money works!”

The customer stormed off past the cashier and out the exit.

I work in an independently-owned woodfire pizza and burger shop. We have an American diner feel to the place and one of our walls is a collage of cut-out pictures of old cars, movies, pinup girls, and so on.

A father has come in for lunch with his handicapped teenage son. My boss is cooking their food while I make the father his coffee at the front of the shop. I have the biggest smile on my face watching how wrapped up in our picture wall the son is.

Son: “Look, Daddy, it’s Elvis!”

Father: “Yes, Son.”

Son: “Do you like Elvis, Daddy?”

Father: “Yep, he’s great.”

Son: “ELVIS, ELVIS, ELVIS, ELVIS!”

The son then starts looking at the other pictures and, to his father’s horror and my absolute delight, he points at a pinup girl…

Son: “Look, Daddy! A STRIPPER!”

The father proceeded to turn a violent shade of red and I had to quickly run to the back of the shop to avoid being caught almost wetting myself! Sir, your boy is absolutely gorgeous and he made my week! I hope you enjoyed your coffee!

(I’m working as a sales assistant in the ladies’ shoe section of a large department store. I’m still fairly new to this job, so I don’t know who the regular customers are yet. An elderly man comes in and begins looking at a wall display of high heels.)

Me: “Hi, how are you today?”

Elderly Man: “Yeah, good.”

Me: “Did you need any help today?”

(I notice the man running his hands slowly over various high heels.)

Elderly Man: “No, I’m all right.”

(I walk off and look over at him every now and then whilst serving other customers. For quite a while, he remains at that wall display, stroking various high heels, and eventually, he walks away.)

Coworker: “Hey, um, next time that man comes in, don’t bother asking him if he needs any help.”

Me: “Why?”

Coworker: “That dude has a foot fetish. He comes in once a week, goes straight to that wall display, and touches a bunch of high heels and leaves. He especially goes for the black patent leather ones.”

(I guess you get all kinds of people in department stores.)

A few years ago, I was working two part-time jobs in different companies: one as a receptionist in an office and one in a CD/DVD store. One day, our area manager came into the store with forms for us all to sign. She explained that it was not a big deal, just some “dumb government thing,” and we needed to sign it, and once we did, we’d get a $50 bonus in our next pay “for our trouble.” This sounded pretty good to us; all of us were struggling with low wages and an extra $50 would make life a little easier.

It was extremely long, with pages and pages of complicated jargon I couldn’t make heads or tails of. Then, in bold at the bottom, written in plain English, was a line about the extra $50 in our next pay if we signed. My area manager hovered over me the whole time I was reading, literally standing in my personal space, arms folded, huffing and sighing and checking her watch.

Something didn’t feel right, so I told her I was going to take it home and read it properly. She didn’t like that one bit. She complained that I was making her life difficult, that everyone else had already done it, why did I have to cause such a fuss, the company was being so generous, and it would be rude for me not to get it back ASAP, etc. I dug my heels in and took it home. 

I showed it to my parents and friends, and none of them could make any sense of it, either. I took it to my office job and asked if the HR manager could look over it for me.

She did, and she was furious. She boiled it down for me: the company had been caught underpaying its employees and was now supposed to pay back the wages we were owed. The form we were asked to sign was basically us forfeiting our rights to claim that money, in exchange for a $50 “bonus”.

I called my area manager and told her that I wasn’t signing and I wanted my backpay.

Even though I had only worked for the company for a few months, I was entitled to over $800 in wages. My coworkers were devastated when I told them; they had signed without reading, took the managers at their word, and had probably missed out on a few thousand dollars.

(After bringing my phone in to have the SIM card from an old phone installed, it won’t connect to the network, so as advised, I have come back the next day to see if it can be fixed.)

Assistant: “Sorry, this phone is too old; it won’t work with our SIM card.”

Me: “But I had one of your SIM cards in a phone older than this just yesterday.”

Assistant: “Yes, but we transferred your number to a newer SIM card which isn’t compatible with your phone.”

Me: “Okay. So, change it back.”

Assistant: “Sorry, there’s nothing we can do.”

Me: “What about the old phone?”

Assistant: “That won’t work anymore, either, because we gave you a new SIM card.”

Me: “So, what do I do?”

Assistant: “You have to buy a new phone.”

Me: “Hang on: I came in here with a working phone and another that could work. Then, after I gave them to you, I have two completely unusable phones?”

Assistant: “Yes, you need to buy a new phone.”

Me: “No, I need to speak to your manager.”

(The assistant gets a manager.)

Manager: “So, my employee explained the situation, and yes, you’ll have to buy a new phone.”

Me: “No, that’s unacceptable. You changed my SIM card without telling me or explaining that it might not work in an older model phone. I had a working phone until I gave it to you, and now I have none. You need to fix this.”

Manager: “There’s nothing we can do.”

Me: “I don’t believe you.”

Manager: “I can escalate this to the store manager, if you like.”

Me: “Please.”

(The store manager comes out and I explain the problem to him.)

Store Manager: “Ah, I’ve seen this before; we just need to do a full factory reset.”

(He resets the phone and it works perfectly.)

Store Manager: “Yeah, sorry, a lot of the employees out in the front don’t really know how this stuff works.”

Me: *after a pause* “Thanks.”