Customer: Do you have any of those Nicotine sprays?
Me: Sure!
(I grab one off the shelf and scan it through the till, tell him and the price and wait. He starts going through an obviously empty wallet and card holder).
Customer: Sorry about this.
Me: It’s okay.
Customer: i was just thrown out of the mobility shop because I was wasting his time.
Me: Oh, right.
Customer: I don’t have a bank card. My brothers won’t give it to me until I sort myself out because I ended up in (town) infirmary again.
Me: Oh what happened?
Customer: Well, I was on the bus to (small town) and I didn’t fall in the pond in (small town) but I fell in the river in (large town, 20 miles south of small town) and ended up in the back of the police car for two hours and in (large town) infirmary.
Me: Oh, dear….
Customer: Well, I won’t waste your time anymore.
Me: That’s okay and maybe your brothers will let you have some money for the nicotine spray. We’re open until six.
(Customer nods and tries to grab the spray but I take it from him smiling).
Me: Don’t worry, I’ll put that back for you.
(I smile, watch him go, and then collapse on the floor in the fit of laughter).

(Customer walks in, says something I can’t here and my boss – who was by the door – gives me an odd look as he walks up to the counter).
Me: Hello sir, what can I get you?
Customer: I need something for schizophrenia.
Me: Oh, okay….
(I really don’t know what to say at that point and he starts looking at the hand sanitizers on the stand by the till).
Customer: Is this really only £2.00?
Me: I’ll check.
(I run it through the till, it is indeed £2.00. He pays for it, puts it in his back and leans forward to read my name badge).
Customer: Thank you (name) it was nice to meet you.
Me: Nice to meet you too Sir. Have a nice day.
(He leaves and my boss walks over to me, where I am collapsed on the floor laughing.)
Boss: When he walked in he said “Welcome to British Airways!”
Me: Oh, well he asked me for something for schizophrenia.
Boss: Oh God.
Me: That’s two in a week. Where are they all coming from?

(A young mother pushes her baby over in a pram and tells me that her baby took some “warm” water and splashed his face with it the day before. I look at the baby and he seems bubbly and happy. There is barely any sign of redness of his skin and there are no blisters, either.)

Me: “There’s isn’t any redness at all. He seems fine.”

Mother: “There’s a mark here.” *points under his eye*

Me: “Well, it’s not that obvious. You shouldn’t need to do anything about it. It’ll go away on its own.”

Mother: “The water got in his eyes.”

(I look at the baby’s eyes. There is also no redness.)

Me: “He looks fine. He’s not crying, either.”

Mother: “He cried for ten minutes yesterday. Will it leave a scar?”

Me: “No… his skin did not even get damaged. You really don’t have to do anything.”

(The mother looked a bit relieved yet doubtful at the same time but she thanked me anyway. Later she came back and asked if sun protection was needed to prevent scarring. Just to satisfy my curiosity, I asked if she really meant “warm” water or if she meant “hot” water. She told me that it was freshly boiled water with a triumphant expression. Well, either this baby has skin made of steel… or she left the boiled water out longer than she thought and it had cooled down already!)

(We’re short-staffed and it’s been a busy, chaotic morning with customers practically lined up out the door as they wait for their prescriptions. Eventually, we get through the queue and stop to catch our breath in a brief moment while there are no more customers in the shop. We’re all a bit tired when yet another customer enters and looks around, appearing confused. My coworker approaches her and blurts out this gem:)

Coworker: “Can I point you in the wrong direction?”

(Fortunately, the customer had a great sense of humour and was soon successfully served.)

I’m a customer in a pharmacy in Berlin, behind an older man. I don’t speak German as I’m just a tourist, but he is very obviously driving the cashier crazy, pointing to everything five times and asking the price, wasting her time by debating the price, raising his voice, and flailing his arms about. Even though I can’t understand a word he is saying, his rudeness is clear! The cashier is doing a great job of staying calm, but he is visibly upsetting her.

When he finally leaves — some five minutes later, only having purchased one thing — I approach the register, smile, and roll my eyes. As she serves me, she chats away about the customer — made obvious from the things she points to while talking — and it’s clear from the relief on her face that she just needs to unload on someone who understands. I smile and nod and laugh when she laughs, and say, “Ja,” a couple of times, and she seems much calmer and happy by the end of the transaction.

Dear cashier, even though I didn’t understand a word you said, our conversation was wonderful and friendly; we both speak the universal language of “hating bad customers”!