(In response to one of our competitors ceasing to sell cigarettes, our chain has adopted a policy of requiring ID for any sales of cigarettes or paraphernalia, no matter how old someone looks. This goes for everything down to tobacco pipe cleaners, which is what a customer is trying to buy.)

Me: “Can I see your ID, please?”

Customer: “You’re kidding, right? I’m 35. You don’t need to see my ID if I look like I’m over 27.”

Me: “No, it’s a new pol—”

Customer: “This is ridiculous.” *she starts telling me her birthday to enter manually*

Me: “I can’t type in—”

Customer: “What do you need, my driver’s license number?!”

Me: “I can’t sell anything having to do with smoking unless I can see photo ID—”

Customer: “What, you want me to go back home and get my driver’s license?! This is f****** ridiculous. I want to talk to your manager. I’ve been driving around all f****** day looking for these f****** cleaners. I’ve been at two f****** shops in just this f****** plaza already!”

(She continues ranting as I go get my manager and tell him the issue. At no point does she stop being audible.)

Manager: “Ma’am, we can’t sell you those unless you have photo ID.”

Customer: “Are you kidding?! I’m thirty-f******-five. You don’t need to see my f****** ID if I look like I’m over twenty-seven. It’s the law!”

Manager: “It’s a new policy, ever since [Competitor] stopped selling cigarettes.”

(I hand her a small flyer about the new policy, an exact copy of the sign that is on our door and at various places around the store.)

Customer: “Then I don’t want any of these.”

(She continues ranting as she walks toward the door.)

Customer: “I drive around for two f****** hours, just going all over god’s f****** creation just to find these f******—”

Me: “Have a great evening!”

Customer: “F*** you!”

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 27
No ID, No Idea, Part 26
No ID, No Idea, Part 25

(I have gone to the pharmacy to refill a prescription. The transaction goes completely normal until the very end after I’ve checked out.)

Worker: “Can I interest you in a free doughnut?”

(I look at her in confusion. I wasn’t expecting being offered a doughnut at 12:30 pm from my pharmacy tech, so my brain takes a bit to process that I did hear those words. After a moment, I shake my head.)

Me: “No, thank you!”

Worker: “…that was rather silly to offer someone picking up diabetes medication, huh?”

(I work as a pharmacy technician. As a rule, we aren’t allowed to carry non-clear bags (i.e. purses, backpacks, etc.) into the pharmacy, and as a result hand carry in valuables like phones, keys, and wallets. Early on, the lead technicians and managers had figured out I would stay later if asked, sometimes up to two hours after my shift had ended. This would usually end in my girlfriend or some other friend calling me at the pharmacy worried to see if I was still there or had gotten home yet. To stop from being asked to stay later, I start sneaking out of the pharmacy through the side door, which is one way. It is after a shift with at least one coworker who has a reputation of trying to talk me into staying later, and it is a busy night. I slip out the side door, am grabbing my things to leave, when I realize I left my keys in the pharmacy. Unfortunately, the only way to get into the pharmacy is through the front half-door. I try to get back in unnoticed by my coworkers, which doesn’t work at all. As I’m grabbing my keys, my coworkers stop me.)

Coworker #1: “What, you left without saying goodbye?” *standard procedure so that we know which areas of the pharmacy aren’t covered*

Manager: “Yeah, we were just discussing that. You do that a lot.”

Me: “If I say I’m leaving, you guys usually try to make me stay later.”

Coworker #2: “See? I told you she’d say that!”

Coworker #1: “Yeah… I probably would’ve asked you to stay later.”

(I can’t say I wasn’t asked to stay later after that night, but at least since saying something in front of the manager, the lead techs would give me at least a few hours notice of wanting me to stay later.)

Customer: “Hi, I was in here earlier and I left my watch here. I called corporate, and they said I could just come back and get a new one.”

Me: “What?”

Customer: “I was in sometime between 5 and 5:30 today when I left my watch.”

(This is taking place at 1:30 pm.)

Me: “We… wouldn’t have been open.”

Customer: “I have to track everywhere I go for my work. I can show you.”

(Customer begins pulling something up on her phone.)

Me: “This store opens at 8:00 am.”

Customer: “Okay, it was at 3:30 pm that I was in.”

Me: “…Today?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “It’s 1:30; it hasn’t been 3:30 yet.”

Customer: “Is there a manager I could talk to about this?”

(While I call for the manager, she continues to talk.)

Customer: “Look, I know that you try your hardest, but I think it would be better if I talked this over with a manager.”

(After I hang up the phone, she gestures to the back of the store.)

Customer: “I’ll just take care of it meanwhile. Are they back there?”

Me: “No, that’s our pharmacy. The manager will be up here soon—”

Customer: “No, I mean your watches.”

Me: “We… don’t sell watches.”

Customer: “I can show you that I got it here. I have the bag in my car.”

(The customer walks out of the store just as my manager reaches the front.)

Manager: “Did you still need me?”

Me: “I’m really not sure…”

(If she ever returned, it wasn’t before the end of my shift a half hour later, so I can only guess at what she was talking about!)

(I have gone to my local pharmacy to see if they have a cream suitable to put on a small insect bite on my 8-month-old’s face. They do not. I have also picked up some formula, and a lipstick for myself. The assistant has already been very confrontational with me, telling me off for not taking the baby to see a doctor about the bite. I am feeling very uncomfortable as she puts the rest of my items through the till, so I try and lighten the mood.)

Me: *to baby, in a joking voice* “Don’t worry, little man, a bit of concealer and you’ll be ready to impress the ladies in no time!”

Assistant: “What?! You can’t do that!”

Me: “Of course I won’t. I was joking.”

Assistant: “Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be? You have no idea what’s in those sort of products! Besides, babies are already beautiful!”

Me: “Yes, I’m sorry; I should not have made a joke about it.”

(She pulls the lipstick I have bought out of the basket.)

Assistant: “See! I knew you weren’t joking! You can’t put this on your child’s face!”

Me: “That’s for me. That’s bright red lipstick!”

Assistant: “Lipstick! That’s even worse! Why would you put lipstick on a baby?!”

Me: “I’m not going to put lipstick on my baby!”

Assistant: “I’m not going to sell this to you. Go home and take your baby to the doctor as you are supposed to.”

(I hurried out, feeling pretty tearful. I dutifully went to the doctor, who quite frankly was perplexed why I was there for such a minor problem! My son’s face cleared up within a day, and at no point did he wear the lipstick — it just wasn’t his colour!)