(This story takes place when I’m 16 and working the closing shift in a chain pet store, which involves checking all the cages and tanks in the back and recording and initialing everything. I am also the only employee on the entire floor and expected to be available to customers. The manager is a useless turd who sits in his office all day. Whenever we approach him with something, he tells us it’s not his problem and to stop bothering him. He even did that when the store flooded. He also insists on being called “sir” and likes to throw his weight around. It’s also relevant to note that, unbeknownst to my manager, I am as belligerent as punk rock comes.)

Manager: “[My Name], how come the forms aren’t done yet?”

Me: “I have to do them after we close. I’ve been busy helping customers back-to-back.”

Manager: “That’s not an excuse.”

Me: “So, you want me to stop what I’m doing and go back to do the forms?”

Manager: “No, someone needs to be on the floor helping customers as long as we’re open.”

Me: “Then the forms are just going to have to wait until after we’re closed.”

Manager: *smirking* “They should already be finished. I expect you to get it done.”

Me: “Uh-huh, and are you going to help the customers while I’m doing that?”

Manager: “No, I have important things to do in my office.”

Me: “Yeah, well, unless the pet department is suddenly self-serve, you only get to pick one.”

Manager: “Why?”

Me: *using my Captain Obvious voice* “Because it is literally impossible to be out here scooping fish and on the other side of the building doing paperwork. I can’t break the laws of physics.”

Manager: “That’s not an excuse. Get it done by the time we close, unless you want to get written up.”

Me: *deciding I’m done* “All right. Is this some pathetic little power game of yours, or are you really so high on your own farts that you can’t grasp this very basic concept? Because either way, this is pretty sad coming from a grown man.”

Manager: “Excuse me?!”

Me: “The schedule is your responsibility, sir. If your forms aren’t getting done because there aren’t enough employees to cover duties, it’s because you suck at doing your job.”

Manager: *turning red* “You’d better watch your attitude with me, missy–”

Me: “Or what?”

Manager: “Or you’ll find yourself out of a job!”

Me: “So?”

(The manager deflates, and opens and closes his mouth a few times, so I continue.)

Me: *laughing* “Hello, I’m sixteen. You think I’m worried about making my mortgage payments? I could walk out right now, and you’d be on the hook if you didn’t stay as long as it takes to close this place by the book. So, maybe you want to rethink whether you’re in control here.”

Manager: “You can’t talk to me like that!”

Me: “Or what? I’m fired?”

Manager: “Yes!”

Me: *shrugging* “Works for me. Bye.”

Manager: *realizing what he’s done* “Where do you think you’re going? You’re not leaving until you finish your work!”

Me: “What work? I’m not an employee here.”

Manager: “Your termination is effective after you’ve completed your tasks.”

Me: “Hmm… Nah.”

Manager: “Stop! You can’t! Come back here this instant!”

Me: *calling over my shoulder in a sing-song voice* “You can’t make me!”

Manager: “I… I’ll call your parents!”

(This is an empty threat, since they only have my cellphone on file. I just laugh and keep walking away. He starts to follow me outside, but as soon as the door shuts behind me I press a full moon against the glass. I hear him scream, “Oh! Oh, my God! Just you wait!” He comes running back out, making a call on his cell phone, as I hop on my bike. He tries to accost me, but I just do a few loops around him, cackling my head off, and speed away. He tries to make the cashier stay, but his mom comes to pick him up and won’t let the manager keep him on a school night. So, the manager is stuck there half the night mucking out cages. The store also keeps buzzing my phone when I don’t show up for my following shifts. When I go to pick up my last check, the manager is standing on the floor glaring at me, so I walk up.)

Me: “Sir? Excuse me, sir? Do you work here? Can you help me with this fish? Oh, are you busy? Do you have important manager stuff to do?”

(I called after him as he walked straight into the office and slammed the door.)

I am 15, so my dad always comes with me when I go to the pet store to buy food for my pets. I need to get a few dozen crickets for my two lizards, and two pinky mice for my adolescent corn snake hybrid.

Unfortunately, it can be a little confusing for some of the employees because they use the same boxes for the rodents sold as food as they do for rodents sold as pets.

A cheery clerk, who looks about 16, serves me, notices the box, and asks, “And what are you going to name this little cutie?”

My dad says, “Breakfast and lunch.”

The poor girl looks like she’s just seen someone kick a puppy when she realizes what they are!

(We often have professional athletes come into our store, mostly just to look, but occasionally they buy from us. A professional football player adopts a lizard from us. He is very polite and pleasant all the times we do business with him. He lives in California, but is in Massachusetts during the season. When he returns to California, he has trouble bringing the lizard with him, so we board her for him, even reducing the typical price since it is likely going to be for a while. He pays us up-front for the entire first month. However, when we call after the second month, hoping he can pay us what he owes us, things aren’t as pleasant.)

Coworker: “We were hoping you could pay us at least some of what you owe us.”

Customer: “There’s a problem there. I can’t keep the lizard. My dog will kill it.”

Coworker: “Are you sure you don’t want to at least try? You really loved this lizard. We feel bad.”

Customer: “It’s just not going to work.”

Coworker: “Well, we’re sorry to hear that. We can place her in a new home. We just need you to pay what you owe us up until now.”

Customer: “That’s a problem.”

Coworker: “Why is that?”

Customer: “I don’t want to pay it.”

Coworker: *pause* “And why is that?”

Customer: “I don’t want to.”

Coworker: “But we’ve spent all this time caring for her and feeding her. And the lights we use for the set-up cost us money in electric bills.”

Customer: “I don’t understand why I should pay. I don’t want the lizard anymore.”

Coworker: “We can reduce the price, if you could just pay us at least [price].”

Customer: “I’m not happy with this. You’ve only seen my nice side up until now. You don’t want to see me when I’m angry.”

(He really couldn’t seem to understand why he should have to pay us for the services we provided. He argued with the owner, who threatened legal action. Eventually, he paid what we asked, still giving us major attitude and arrogance. We haven’t heard from him since.)

(As I walk past the collar and leash aisle, a customer approaches me, holding a pink leopard-print dog harness.)

Customer: “Do you have any boy harnesses?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Most of the harnesses are right behind you.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. I need a boy harness.”

Me: “What color?”

Customer: “Blue. For a boy. It needs to be a small.”

Me: “Here’s a small blue one.”

Customer: “I don’t like those kinds. They’re too confusing. Too many loops.”

Me: “Here’s another small blue one.”

Customer: “That’s not the right size. It’s too big. I need one exactly like this one, but for a boy.” *holds up the pink leopard print harness*

Me: “I can adjust this blue one for you if you want.”

Customer: “No, it’s too big. What other harnesses do you have?”

Me: “How about a black small one?”

Customer: “That one is too small.”

Me: “I can adjust it to make it bigger.”

Customer: “Maybe I should just get the pink one… but he’s a boy!”

Me: “Dogs are colorblind. He won’t mind.”

Customer: “But you don’t do that to a boy!”

(I work in the animal department of a big pet store chain. My job is to take care of all the animals in the store, answer customers’ questions, and sell the animals. I tend to lurk around the rodent department because it’s what I know best, and I help customers when I see them browsing. This day there is a young couple eyeing the hamsters, and I speak with the woman.)

Me: “They’re cute, right? Were you looking at getting a hamster today?”

Customer: “Yeah, they are cute. We’ve never had a pet before, and we both work full time, so we thought it was time for one.”

Me: *already getting the gut feeling* “Okay, well, let me walk you through a bit about hamsters.”

(I explain their nesting habits, their personalities, everything. I show the cages, the food, and everything they could need, give a rough price estimate, explain how often they need to clean the cage, tell them to find an exotic/small animal vet, etc.)

Customer: “Hmm. Well, don’t the cages stink?”

Me: “Not if you take care to clean them often enough.”

Customer: “Can’t we just let it run around on the floor?”

(Needless to say, I pointed at the aisle with the animal books and told them they should probably do a bit more research before they bring an animal home. I’ve since quit working there.)