Customer: “Hi, I needed to ask you some questions about condoms.”

Me: “Okay, go ahead.”

Customer: “Well, you see I have a problem. All the condoms seem to be too small and are very tight.”

Me: “Okay, well they do make larger condoms such as Trojan Magnums.”

Customer: “Well, I’ve tried those and even those are too small for me.”

Me: “Well, I’ve never really heard of that, since condoms are designed to be very stretchy.”

Customer: “I’ve just tried all sorts of condoms. What I really need is for you to help me try on the condom.”

Me: *click*

(Last year I dyed my hair bright red, and by October it was starting to fade out to a pink-orange. I was used to getting a lot of comments about my hair and most were positive so I was taken by surprise when I was ringing up an older customer a few days before Halloween.)

Husband: “Is that your real hair?”

Me: “Yes. it is.”

Husband: “Well. I like it. It’s nice. You look very pretty.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(His wife looks at him with a face that says she doesn’t appreciate him complimenting me.)

Husband: *to his wife* “Well, she’s Halloween pretty, anyway.”

Me: “…here’s your receipt. Have a nice night…”

(My manager and I still haven’t figured out if I should take that as a compliment or insult, yet.)

(I work behind the chemist counter and a lot of addicts come in to get their methadone. This one turns up five minutes before closing.)

Customer: “Here you go.” *hands over her prescription*

Me: “Thanks, I’ll just go get the pharmacist for you.”

(Whilst she’s waiting she notices the slides we used to detach our counter-caches which store all of the notes.)

Customer: “What are those?”

Colleague: “Those get the counter-caches off for us, for cashing up.”

(The customer picks one up and starts playing with it.)

Me: “The pharmacist will be right out.”

Customer: “No problem. In the meantime I’d like one of these.” *hands me the slide for the counter-caches*

Me: *thinking she’s joking* “Um, sorry, I don’t think that’s allowed.”

Customer: “Don’t laugh at me! GIVE ME THE F****** COUNTER THING!”

(It escalated from there. She refused to leave the shop or take her methadone, and we had to call the police and stand there whilst she trashed the store. We ended up staying an hour late to clean it all up. The pharmacist rang her doctor and asked for her to be sent somewhere else for her methadone and possibly be given a stronger dose.)

Customer: “I’m allergic to tree pollen, but I don’t have hay fever, so don’t try to sell me any hay-fever medication!”

New Colleague: “Sir, an allergy to tree pollen is hay fever. If you take these it will help.”

Customer: “It says trainee on your badge. You don’t know what you’re talking about! I’d like to speak to a more senior member of staff!”

(The new colleague fetches me. I am 20 years younger than my colleague.)

Me: “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

Customer: “I asked to speak to a senior member of staff! Why are you getting involved?!”

Me: “As I’ve been here the longest. I am more than capable of answering any problems you may have.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! You’re a child. You can’t possibly be able to deal with the responsibility! Get me someone more senior!”

(I go and get the pharmacist who has been listening to the whole thing.)

Customer: “Finally, an adult who knows what they’re doing! How can you leave a child in charge of your chemist counter?”

Pharmacist: “Well, sir, [My Name] has passed all of her courses with the highest mark we’ve ever seen in this store, so I’m perfectly happy to let her deal with any queries, but as I’m here – what’s the problem?

Customer: *looking sheepish* “I’m allergic to tree pollen and want something for it.”

Pharmacist: “That’s called hay fever; try an antihistamine.”

Related
Allergic To Common Sense

(I work in the mail-order branch of a popular pharmacy chain. On my way to work I stop by a local retail branch of the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. I happen to be wearing a company t-shirt which, while having the variant of the company name used by the mail order branch, is nothing at all like the uniforms worn by retail employees nor is it at all professional-looking. A woman comes up next to me while I’m waiting at the pharmacy counter.)

Customer: “Excuse me, where are allergy medicines?”

Me: *looking around* “Over there, I think.”

Customer: “What, don’t you know where things are in your own store?”

Me: “Oh, I don’t work here. I actually work at [Mail Order Branch] on [Road].”

Customer: “Oh, ok. So, which kind is safest for my son to use?”

Me: “Sorry?”

Customer: “Which allergy medicine is safest for my son? He’s ten.”

Me: “You would really have to ask a pharmacist.”

Customer: “But you said you work for [Company].”

Me: “I just package orders. I’m not a pharmacist.”

Customer: “So why are you at the pharmacy counter?”

Me: “I’m picking up a prescription…”

Customer: “So you can stand here but you can’t help a customer?”

(The pharmacy tech tells me my prescription is ready. I get it and pay, all while the woman stares at me. As I walk away the tech notices the woman standing behind me.)

Pharmacy Tech: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “I don’t know. Apparently, no one else around here can!”

This story is part of our “I Don’t Work Here” roundup!

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