(A woman and two small children come up to the counter with a cardboard box.)

Woman: “Hello. My children found this turtle in a nearby pond and I want to know how to take care of it.”

Me: “I normally recommend leaving wild animals where they are.”

Woman: “They really want to keep him. Will you help us or not?”

Me: *groaning internally* “Okay, let me get a look at the little guy.”

Woman: *removes the lid* “What do you suggest?”

Me: “Yeah, you’re going to want to put him back.”

Woman: “What? My boys are attached to him and you want me to take him away from them?!”

Me: “That’s a snapping turtle. He’s going to move from feeder fish to fingers really fast.”

Woman: “Any recommendations on where to release him?”

(I work in a pet store. I have just clocked in and am a little out of it, when I spot a woman in the rawhide section looking confused.)

Me: “Hello, did you need help finding anything?”

Customer: “Yes, did you stop carrying cow hooves? I can’t find any.”

Me: *reaching into a bin next to us* “You mean these?”

Customer: “No, those are beef hooves. I’m looking for cow hooves, but all I can find are beef hooves!”

Me: *struggling to keep it together* “I assure you, these are cow hooves. They’re the same thing.”

Customer: “Well, all right.”

(She bought one, but I still don’t think she was convinced.)

(Two customers in their 20s are looking to possibly buy a snake. Toward the end of the conversation about pros and cons of snake ownership, the topic of cage cleaning comes up.)

Me: “Since the snakes are eating once a week at this age, they’re pooping about once a week, which makes clean-up easier.”

Customer #1: “What? Snakes poop?”

Customer #2: *pause* “Yeah. Everything poops.”

Customer #1: “But they don’t have butts!”

Me, Coworker, & Customer #2: “What?”

Coworker: “Yes, they do.”

Customer #1: “That doesn’t seem real!”

(My coworker and I show her the snake’s cloaca — its “butt”.)

Customer #1: “Oh, my God! Snakes have butts!”

([Customers #1 & #2] walk away, with [Customer #1] repeating loudly, and with amazement, “Snakes have butts! Snakes have butts!”)

Me: “I worry about this country’s education system.”

(I have naturally straight, platinum blonde hair. People can often tell it is natural because my skin is fair and I have blonde eyebrows, too. I do get asked about it fairly often, but the majority of people know it is natural, or if they don’t know they just say they have never seen natural hair that colour before. I am standing at the cash register, and a small middle-aged woman comes up to the counter with her merchandise.)

Me: “Hello! Did you find everything you were looking for today?”

Customer: *looking at the top of my head* “What number is that?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “What number is your hair?”

Me: “I am sorry; I honestly don’t know what you mean.”

Customer: “Your hair. What dye number do you use to get it that colour? And what straightener do you use?”

Me: “Oh! I actually don’t dye or straighten my hair; it’s all natural! So, your total is $19.75.” *I smile at her politely*

Customer: *suddenly leans forward over the counter and squints, peering at the top of my head* ” HA! Nope.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: *with a dead serious expression* “Nope. I don’t believe you. There is no way that is your real colour. I can’t quite see your roots though so you obviously used a good dye.”

Me: *getting uncomfortable* “Uh… Well, it is real and I don’t dye it, but yeah, I guess it is really light. A lot of people can’t believe it is natura—”

Customer: *leans even more forward and quickly reaches out and taps the top of my head with two fingers* “NO way. That is dyed for sure. Good try, but I can tell you’re lying. You can’t fool me!”

(I step back abruptly, unable to hide the shock and annoyance from my face.)

Me: “You don’t have to believe me, but it is my actual, natural colour.” *I keep eye contact with her to see if she will say more; the polite smile on my face has transformed into more of a snarl* “Your total is $19.75.”

(The customer pays without saying anything else, but looks at me as she’s walking out the door and shakes her head. I just glare-smile back at her, still in a shock that I just got tapped on the head by a complete stranger! A little less than a week later she comes back in. She comes up to me at the cash register with her merchandise and again her eyes immediately shoot up to my roots. I ignore her this time, pretending I have not met her before, and quietly scan her items. I am just about to say her total when she blurts out:)

Customer: “I guess you are telling the truth, because your hair is not fried, and you have no dark roots; you should have some showing after this many days, unless you got your roots treated. But I don’t believe that your hair is straight. It just can’t be.” *just stares at me*

(I square my shoulders, look her straight in the eyes, and say:)

Me: “Okay, your total is $15.63.”

(She kind of stared back at me in shock for a few seconds. Maybe she realized how rude she was being by picking apart my appearance, or she thought she was talking to the wrong person because her face turned bright red, she quickly did her transaction, then she thanked me and left. I have not seen her in our store ever since.)

(We have a customer who frequently buys items and soon returns them. She comes in, yet again, to return a dog bone she bought a week or so ago.)

Customer: “I need to return this.”

Me: “This packaging is destroyed, and the bone has been chewed up. I’m not going to be able to refund you any money.”

Customer: “No! This bone was supposed to be peanut butter flavored, and its not!”

(I smell the bone, and sure enough, it smells like peanut butter.)

Me: “Ma’am, this bone is peanut butter flavored.”

Customer: “But it doesn’t taste like peanut butter!”

Me: “Um… Did you taste the bone?”

Customer: “Yes! And it doesn’t taste like peanut butter! I want my money back!”