As I teen, I work in a chain retail pet store. It isn’t a bad gig, but this particular Saturday is h***.

It is summer. We are all near a bunch of front windows during the time of day sun is shining right on them, so everyone is hot.

To make it worse, for some reason, our credit card machines all decide to malfunction. The thing is, they are not offline, but for some reason, it is taking three to four minutes for each transaction to go through. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but in an eight-person line, that gets real old, real fast.

We have four registers, all with that issue. I suggest — yay, management, for actually listening! — that we have a cash-only line. We have no signage, as this isn’t normal, so I tape big hand-written signs all around my register, and we even tape one to the front door telling people about our issues.

So, yeah, it’s a mess — lots of complaints, general grumbling, etc.

I don’t have it too bad until this woman comes up to my register.

She places her one item on the counter. It’s a bag of crickets for food. The bag has “18” written on it, indicating what the charge should be.

The first words out of her mouth:

Customer: “I hope I got eighteen crickets, because that fat cow you have working in the reptile department didn’t look like she knew what she was doing.”

Full stop. I’ve known that employee for about a year. We’re not friends, but friendly, and she for sure takes her job seriously.

It has been a long day and I’ve seen so many of my coworkers taking abuse already that I kind of snap.

As this woman is the only one in line, I put on my best customer service smile.

Me: “Well, let’s make sure, then.”

I have a small bag I front of me. I lean down and start counting.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to count how many bugs there are in a small area when they are all jumping around?

This goes on for maybe… three minutes or so. Finally, the woman sighs.

Customer: “Okay, fine, I don’t care.”

Fortunately, I have actually just finished the count.

Me: “Well ma’am it seems you have nineteen crickets in here.”

She rolls her eyes. It’s only seven cents.

Customer: *Grumbling* “Fine.”

At least she isn’t petty enough to try to demand a free cricket.

But then, she pulls out her credit card! I giggle internally.

My lane is the only one without a line. The woman beelined to it without reading the six signs I had plastered all over my lane about cash-only.

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, you’re going to have to go to another lane. This is cash-only due to our credit machine issues.”

Customer: *Sputters* “But…”

She keeps sputtering, looking at the other lines, mostly seven to ten people long. There is no one behind her on my line.

Customer: “I’m not holding anyone up!”

Me: “Not now, but if someone comes up, you would be.”

She grabs the bag angrily and wanders to one of the other lines.

I got busy again, so I didn’t see her check out, but I asked my coworker about it later. He said he remembered her, and she didn’t say anything, but she did pay for her extra cricket.

The thing is, I did make an exception or two throughout the day when my line was empty, and someone had a single item and legitimately apologized for not seeing the signs. People get tunnel vision in stores; I get it. But if she had just not said, “Fat cow,” she would have been out of the store forty minutes sooner and seven cents richer.

I am a dog trainer at a large chain store. I have a young German Shepherd mix that I bring to class with me to use during demonstrations. One of the class options we offer is a private one-hour session for people who don’t want to do group classes. A woman enrolls in this class with her two-year-old hound.

The day of the class, she is ten minutes late, so I am working on patience exercises with my puppy when she barges in without her dog. This on its own is weird, because we tell people they need to bring their dogs to class to demonstrate as we go.

Woman: “Are you [My Name]?”

Me: “Yes, I am. Are you—”

Woman: *Gesturing to my dog* “Who is that? I paid for a private lesson!”

Me: “Oh, this is [My Dog]; I use him for demonstrations. Where is [Her Dog]?”

Woman: *Sneering* “Is that one of those fighting dogs?”

Me: “No, he’s not a fighting dog. I’m actually training him to be a diabetic response dog.”

Woman: “You’re diabetic?”

Me: “I am.”

Woman: “You’re not fat.”

Me: “I’m still diabetic, ma’am. Should we get started?”

She edges toward my dog, putting out a hand and quickly pulling away.

Woman: “Does it bite?”

Me: “Anything with a mouth has the potential to bite you, but he doesn’t unless provoked.”

She sucks on her teeth.

Woman: “So he does bite.”

Me: *Sigh* “He can go in his crate if you’re concerned. Where is [Her Dog]?”

Woman: “I didn’t want to bring her. Can I pet [My Dog]?”

Me: “Yeah, just don’t put your hand over his face.”

The woman sits down on the floor in front of my dog and uses that baby voice people use when they talk to animals. He starts walking toward her, wagging his tail so hard that his butt is wiggling back and forth. When he gets close enough, she puts her entire hand over his muzzle and shakes it back and forth, still using the baby voice. He paws at her hand over his muzzle and opens his mouth to yip at her.

The woman shrieks and falls backward, kicking at him. She connects with his face twice and my puppy runs back to his crate. I turn to check on my dog, but the woman grabs my ankle with both hands, preventing me from moving.

Me: “Ma’am, I—”

Woman: “He attacked me!”

Me: “He was responding to your voice and putting your hand in his face. Are you okay?”

Woman: “He bit me!”

She starts cradling the hand that wasn’t in my dog’s face.

Me: “Can I see it?”

I reach out. 

Woman: “No!”

She kicks at me and I back out of range.

Woman: “F*** you and f*** your dog!”

Me: “We can call an ambulance or have someone drive you to the hospital if you’re injured.”

She curls over her hands so I can’t see them.

Woman: “He broke my hand!”

I’m quite sure this is a lie since she just grabbed my ankle.

Me: “If your hand is broken, you should go to the ER at [Hospital a few blocks over]. [Store] will cover the costs if you have it checked out in the next forty-eight hours. Do you want to go?”

Woman: “I’m not going to the ER! I want a refund!”

Me: “Okay. [Store Manager] is on duty. We can go find her.”

I close the door on the dog crate and the woman and I go find the manager in the office. She is quiet during the walk to the office, but as soon as she sees the manager, she starts whimpering and covers her hand in her shirt, preventing us from seeing it.

Me: “[Store Manager], we—”

Woman: “Her f****** mutt bit me!”

Store Manager: *Alarmed* “What?!”

Me: “She put her hand in [My Dog]’s face and—”

Woman: “He lunged at me for no reason!”

Store Manager: “Ma’am, please sit down. I’m so sorry about this. [My Name], please go back to the arena and close the door on your way out.”

I leave, furious. I check on my dog and, thankfully, he isn’t seriously hurt, just scared. An hour later, I personally process the woman’s refund while she berates me about my “piss-poor training techniques.”

The store manager then tells me to not bring my dog in anymore, at least until he has attended classes with a trainer at another location. I am mad but I want to bring him back as soon as possible, so I agree. Over two months later, I am called into the office.

Store Manager: “Is [My Dog] still enrolled in training classes?”

Me: “Yeah, he goes to [Other Store] with [Trainer]. We’re about to finish the basic course and intermediate begins the week after.”

Store Manager: “And his behavior?”

Me: “He’s top of the class. [Trainer] uses him for demonstrations all the time.”

Store Manager: “I’ll be calling [Trainer] to verify that he’s still enrolled.”

Me: *Shrug* “Okay.”

She hands me a pen and paper.

Store Manager: “Please write down your side of what happened with [Woman] on [date]. Be as specific as possible.”

I recount the story in vivid detail; it takes several pages and my hand is sore by the end. The store manager reviews it and reads the woman’s side out loud.

By her account, I told her it wasn’t a big deal and that she shouldn’t go to the ER, and basically laughed at her and told her to suck it up. She ended her letter by saying that she had to get rid of her own dog because I had traumatized her so badly with my “calloused behavior,” and that she would sue the store if I wasn’t fired.

There was nothing about how she had acted, of course, and no mention of any medical professional checking out her hand to determine damage.

Store Manager: “This is pretty serious stuff, [My Name].”

Me: “It’s also a bunch of lies.”

Store Manager: “Did you tell her not to go to the ER?”

Me: “I told her she should go and that we would cover the medical costs. She refused.”

Store Manager: *Nods* “I told her, too.”

Me: “So… what now? What about the cameras?”

Store Manager: “We caught some of it but nothing that would help you. She was facing away from the camera, so all we saw was her getting down, [My Dog] pawing at her, and her falling down. HR doesn’t want a lawsuit involving a dog bite and the trainer. I’m sorry, [My Name].”

She hands me another paper.

Store Manager: “We have no choice but to terminate you.”

Me: “What?!”

Store Manager: “I know. I’m sorry. My hands are tied.”

Me: “I’ve been here for ten years. How many customer complaints have I had?”

Store Manager: “Not many, but this is a serious one.”

Me: “She’s lying!”

Store Manager: “Please, [My Name], don’t make this any more difficult than it is. Maybe once this blows over, you can come back. For now—”

Me: *Laughs* “I’m not coming back if you’re going to fire me over some bulls*** lies.”

I left and immediately pulled my dog from the classes at the other store. I got an office job a few weeks after being fired, but I still trained dogs for free on weekends. Most of my first students after I was fired were people who had been enrolled in the class but quit and demanded their own refunds when they learned I was no longer employed there.

I asked how they knew what happened and every one of them directed me to a review left by the woman. She wrote a review on the store’s Facebook page, naming me and my dog specifically. She claimed that no one cared about her experience, that we called her a liar, refused to refund her, and wouldn’t allow her to seek medical help. She ended it by saying she was the reason I was no longer working there.

She’s not wrong, technically, but it didn’t hurt me nearly as much as it hurt the store. From what I’ve heard, a lot of people have stopped going to the store, either because they believe the woman’s review or because they believe me.

Oh, and my dog passed his service dog training with flying colors.

I am working in a pet store which specializes in reptiles of all kinds. A middle-aged lady comes in, and I ask if there is something special she is looking for.

Lady: “I want to see your selection of Mox.”

Me: “Mox? I’m not sure exactly what it is you are looking for.”

Lady: “Mox! Mox!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I have never heard of Mox. Do you know what kind of animal it is? Perhaps a more generic term?”

Lady: *Huffy* “Well, I thought you would know something simple like that. It’s a turtle. Mox turtles!”

Me: “Oh, I see. Perhaps you mean box turtles? We do have some; let me show them to you.”

Lady: “No, I specifically said mox turtles. M. O. X. Mox!”

Me: “Sorry, I have been in this business for many years, and I am unfamiliar with Mox turtles. Where did you learn about them?”

Lady: “Well! I was talking to my sister who watches all these cooking shows, and she was telling me about this recipe for Mox turtle soup, and I wanted to make some.”

Me: “In the first place, this is a pet store, not a butcher shop. Our pets are not to be eaten. Secondly, I think you must be referring to mock turtle soup. It is not made with turtles but is made to mock, or pretend to be, turtles. It is made to duplicate the texture and flavor of real turtle soup. I will not sell any of my turtles to you. Now please leave.”

Lady: “Well, if you don’t have Mox, why didn’t you just tell me before you said anything? I’ll just go somewhere else to get some Mox.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me before you said anything?”

WHAT?!

I’ve taken my four-month-old puppy to the pet store to grab a few bits. Whilst I’m in the puppy toy section, my puppy finds something interesting to sniff at. I soon realise it appears to be a patch of dried pee. When I go up the front to pay, I decide to inform the cashier.

Me: “Hi, just these, please. Oh, and just to let you know, it looks like a dog peed in between the puppy toys and dog beds.”

The cashier shoots me an odd look.

Cashier: “Thanks. These things do happen.”

I paid for my stuff and left. Halfway home, I realised that the cashier assumed my puppy had been the one to pee and I just didn’t want to clean it up!

The next time I went in there, she was a little curt with me, but since I’m now a regular, she has started to be quite chatty. Thankfully, my dog has never had an accident in the store, but if he did, I would always clean it up!

I’m working at the register one evening when a woman comes in and goes to look at the dog toys. I don’t think much of her, beyond saying hello, as I have a line of customers to ring out.

A few minutes later, she comes out of the aisle asking for help. One of my coworkers goes over to help, and again, I don’t think much of what’s going on, continuing to ring customers through.

Out of nowhere, she storms up to my register and tosses a toy on the counter. I miss most of what she says, but she’s definitely angry, and about every other word is an expletive.

Me: *Confused* “What?”

This seems to set her off again, and she starts ranting, again spouting expletives.

Customer: “Why you would have a f****** employee that doesn’t f****** know the f****** store?!”

My coworker steps back in.

Coworker: “Why are you cursing?”

I’m still thoroughly confused at this point, and I turn back to the customers I was helping when she came up. I’m trying to listen in on the conversation but miss most of it as I talk to the people in front of me.

She finally storms outside, still hurling expletives, and I turn to my coworker as he walks over to me:

Coworker: “She’s been in before and is blacklisted, as she and a man she’s usually with are known scammers. I fully expect her partner to come in soon after to try and continue the scam.”

Once he mentions this, I remember the last time I saw her. She and her partner had brought in several dog toys and a couple of aquarium decorations. I didn’t think much of it until the man said he’d bought ALL of the items for his dog. I was instantly suspicious, as the items were all unused, and there was no receipt.

I started the return, mainly to keep things from escalating too quickly, and since he didn’t have a receipt, I asked for his ID. He handed me a driver’s license with a hole punched in it. After I refused it, he showed me his temporary ID, printed from his computer. My manager was involved by then and explained that we could only accept a permanent state-issued ID.

He argued, going back and forth with my manager about how he thought the temporary ID should count. Eventually, he went out and sent the woman in since she had a valid ID. The manager saw, came over, and explained that she wouldn’t allow the return without a receipt, so they had to go back to the store they “bought” the items from so that store could look up the receipt and make the return.

The woman instantly turned hostile, hurling insults at my manager, demanding to see her boss — who wasn’t there at the time — then hurling even more insults when my manager told her when the boss would be in.

I’m hoping I’ll actually recognize her or her partner when they come in next, but I have a pretty lousy memory for faces, especially when I see hundreds every day. But you can guarantee they’ll bring back more stolen merchandise to “return,” since mine seems to be their favorite store.