We stopped on the way home from work today to buy wet food for our cats. It should have been a quick in and out. It was not, thanks to… Her. 

We get in line. There is one person at the register and another couple ahead of us, with a very happy German Shepherd. We wait. The line does not move. We wait some more. The couple points out some Lamb Chop stuffies to each other. We continue to wait. The manager comes up and calls up the next person in line. We step up as they move over. It looks like the woman at the register is almost done, as she only has three things.

She is not.

Customer: “But why can’t you just take it out to my car?”

She only has two small rolls of litter box liners and a ten-pound bag of dry food. I suspect that is not what she meant by “it”. I am right.

Cashier: “Did you call ahead to order?”

Customer: “Oh… no… do I have to?”

Cashier: “No, but it just makes things easier. So we can do that, but I have to get someone to take it out for you.”

Customer: “But why can’t you take it out?”

Cashier: “Well, I—someone has to go and get it and bring it up here, and then I can’t leave this.”

Customer: “But you can take it out to my car.”

Cashier: “Yes, we can do that, but someone else has to bring it up here.”

Customer: “Can you go and get it and take it out to my car?”

Cashier: “No, I… I have to get someone from the back.”

Customer: “Can’t you just use your little earpiece thing and call them?”

Cashier: “Yes, I can, but they still have to bring it up here.”

Customer: “And then take it out to my car.”

Cashier: “Well, we have to scan it first, but—”

Customer: “—It’s this. Right here.”

She pulls out her phone at this point and shows the cashier a picture of a bright yellow box of kitty litter. Meanwhile the manager has finished up with the customer that was ahead of us and called for the next customers in line, and someone two people back from us has decided that means “the fastest person to get over there”, which the people now behind us are grumbling about. 

We, however, are trapped, because they’ve essentially barricaded us at the conveyor belt. I am morbidly fascinated by this conversation.

Cashier: “Yes, I’ll get someone to—”

Customer: “—They can take them out to my car.”

Cashier: “We have to scan it first.”

Customer: “But I just showed it to you.”

Cashier: “Yes, but I need to scan it. You still have to pay for it.” 

Customer: “Why can’t you just type in $29.99 and—”

Cashier: “Becau—no, my computer needs to scan it in order to get the right price and—” 

Customer: “—But I just showed it to you.”

Cashier: “I still have to scan it, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well, can you do that?” 

Cashier: “I will, ma’am, but someone still has to bring it up.”

Customer: “And they’re going to, right?” 

Cashier: “Yes, I’ll get someone, so you can either wait here or step aside until they bring it up—”

Customer: “—You can’t just go scan it?”

Cashier: “No, someone will bring it up in a cart, and I’ll scan it, and then they’ll take it to your car for you that way.”

Customer: “Oh, okay, I’ll step over here.”

Thankfully, she does that, and the cashier quietly gets on her radio.

Cashier: “I need someone to bring up four boxes of cat litter for a customer… No, she didn’t, she’s up here and she wants them taken out to her car…”

Customer: *Loudly from where she has stepped aside.* “Are these things rung up?” 

Cashier: *Barely holding onto her ‘Customer Service’ voice.* “Yes, ma’am, but I’ve suspended the transaction while we wait for the—”

Customer: “—So I can take them?”

Cashier: “You still have to pay for them, ma’am.” *Turns to my mom with an extremely forced smile.* “Do you have a [store] rewards number?”

The customer drifts off as Mom punches in the phone number. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, then turn back to the cashier.

Me: “This is why I don’t work retail anymore. I’m so sorry. Some people…”

I am currently fostering a service dog. His human has to have surgery and inpatient rehab. He will be staying with me until she’s home. The organization that trained him suggests that I take him out, wearing his working backpack, as often as possible. I do NOT claim he is a service dog and only take him places that allow pets. Unfortunately, his working backpack (used to carry meds, water, and emergency information) has “Service dog” patches.

We go into a pet store where he is well-known.

Random Customer: “Oh! Is he a service dog?”

Me: “He is, but he’s not working right now.”

Employee: “Murphy! Hi!”

Murphy goes to get some attention.

Random Customer: “What service does he provide?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Random Customer: “What. Service?”

Me: “He helps his mom, but she’s not here right now.”

Random Customer: “So you are just FAKING? He’s probably not even a real service dog. I’m allowed to ask what service he provides. It’s in the ADA.”

Employee: “Ma’am, please stop. First, you are not allowed to ask. We are. But we don’t, since we allow all well-behaved pets and service animals. We know him. He’s very well behaved, and he’s allowed in, the same as any pet.”

Random Customer: “I’m reporting you for discrimination. I’m allowed to ask!”

The employee calls their manager, who attempts to calm the woman.

Random Customer: “So you’re telling me I can bring in my pet dog?”

Manager: “Yes, we permit all well-behaved pets. Look around.”

He gestures to two dogs being walked into the store.

Random Customer: “If that’s true, why was my husband told not to bring my dog back ever again? That was two days ago!”

Manager: “Oh. You’re the one. I’m assuming your dog is the little white dog that ripped open three bags of food and peed on several others?”

Random Customer: “What does that matter?”

Manager: “Again, we only permit well-behaved dogs. Yours does not qualify.”

She eventually left, muttering under her breath about “fake service dogs.”

I work at a pet food store, and I got paged to the front for customer service.

Me: “How can I help you today?”

Customer: “I’m trying to find some certified organic freeze-dried dog treats made from animals that don’t jump.”

Me: *Thinking I’d misheard that last part.* “Sorry, what was that?”

She’s looking at me like I’m the crazy one.

Customer: “Animals that don’t jump? You know, like chickens jump and rabbits jump, but turkeys and cows don’t jump.”

I ended up showing her some treats that she seemed satisfied with, but I grew up on a farm, and so I know that all of those animals jump. 

I asked my manager why it would make a difference feeding a dog animals that jump versus animals that don’t.

Manager: “I’m just as confused as you. I do know that elephants are the only mammal that cannot jump, so there’s nothing we could have done for her.”

Me: “You mean to tell me that our store doesn’t carry elephant dog food?!”

At the pet store I work at, dogs are allowed if they’re well-behaved. While technically the policy says all dogs need to be on leash, our boss believes that a dog that can’t behave on leash is more trouble than a Good Boy who isn’t.

A woman came up to my counter with her hands full of supplies, and an obedient dog trotting exactly half a step behind her. The dog had a chew bone in his mouth. Just carrying it. They waited in line; the dog was sitting exactly behind her with his bone, and he was truly one of the best-behaved dogs I have ever seen.

Then we get to checking her out.

Me: “Alright, that’s the cans and litter. Now, if you could just give me the bone, I’ll add that to the total.”

Lady: “What bone?”

Me: “The bone your dog has? Ma’am, it’s been in his mouth. We can’t take it back.”

Lady: “What dog?”

Me: *Points.* “Your dog.”

The lady turned to look behind her.

The dog wagged its tail. 

The lady turned back to me.

Me: “Is that not your dog?”

Lady: “This is not my dog. I have a cat.”

From the SINGLE FURTHEST other side of the store, we hear a man shout:

Man: “Stella! Where are you, girl?”

The lady and I watched as this dog put her bone down with the grace that humans reserve for grandma’s good china, and announced herself with a single, sharp bark:

Stella: “Arf!”

And after all that, after Stella’s actual owner had come to the front desk and agreed to purchase the bone, as the lady, who was a completely random CAT PERSON, took her things to walk outside, Stella once again got up, ignored her owner’s calling, and followed this lady outside, exactly half a step behind.

Customer: “Where can I find [Brand] dog food?”

Me: “We have that on sale right now as they released a bunch of new flavors! Follow me!”

Customer: “I know, that’s why I want them!”

I bring her to the sale display and start pointing out the large variety of flavors of the dog food.

Me: “So there’s chicken, lamb, buffalo—”

Customer: “—Oh! I didn’t know dogs could eat spicy food!”

Me: *Confused for a moment.* “I… don’t think it’s spicy.”

Customer: “Buffalo wings are always spicy!”

Me: *Realization.* “No, ma’am, buffalo, like the animal, not buffalo wings.”

Customer: “Buffalo is an animal?”