(I’m pregnant and recently started showing, which has lead to many comments from customers. Also, the pregnancy has lead me to make lots of silly mistakes which I largely blame on pregnancy brain.)

Me: “Sorry about that. My daughter stole my brain cells and she won’t give them back.”

Customer: “I’m sure she’ll give them back eventually. I feel like I’ve just started to get back some brain power from my daughter.”

Me: “Oh? How old is she?”

Customer: “14.”

Me: “…”

(I am a customer in this story, and was in the process of picking up a few prescriptions. I grabbed a small, much-needed item as well to be wrung up.)

Me: *places item on the counter* “Is it all right if I add this to the purchase? If it’s too much trouble I can take it to the front registers.”

Pharmacist: “Nah. This is one tiny item that can fit into the prescription bag. You wouldn’t believe how much people try to pack their cart at pick-up to avoid the line. We don’t have the bags or the means to properly checkout full loads back here.”

(As if on cue, a woman with a full shopping cart and a hand-basket moves in line behind me, hitting my leg in the process.)

Customer: “Hurry up! I don’t have all day.”

Me: “Sadly, I think I do.”

(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.)