(I have recently been hired at a pharmacy a few towns over from mine. It’s my second day as cashier, when a teen girl comes to my register. I’m 22 and wearing a name tag.)

Customer: “Hi, I’d like a pack of [Brand] cigarettes, please.”

Me: “No problem. I just need to see your ID.”

Customer: “Oh, well it’s at my house and I don’t have time to run back and get it. Can’t you let me go this time?”

Me: “Sorry, it’s not worth my job.”

Customer: “But you know me!”

Me: “I can’t say that I do.”

Customer: “Dude, [My Name], we go to high school together.”

Me: “Oh, really? What high school do you go to?”

Customer: “[Local High School]. We totally have English together.”

Me: “Yeah, no. First of all I went to [Rival High School]. Second, I was in AP English, the scores of which I used to go to [University], which I just graduated from. So, no, I don’t know you. Show me ID or move along.”

Customer: “You suck.”

(She left and asked the next few visibly older customers to buy her cigarettes. No one bought them, and one even threatened to call the cops if she didn’t leave!)

(My sister and her husband are having trouble conceiving. It’s been four long and emotional years for all of us. She forgot to buy pregnancy tests last time she was out, so I offer to get some on my way over to her house. I hand over my items to the cashier.)

Cashier: *picking up pregnancy test with a gleeful smile* “Oooh! Is this a good thing or a bad thing?”

Me: “…what?”

Cashier: “Are you hoping you are or hoping you aren’t?”

Me: “That is a pretty personal question.”

Cashier: “Yeah, but I’m stuck here all day with nothing to do. So I’m thinking you cheated on your boyfriend and hope you aren’t carrying some random guy’s kid!” *huge grin* “Am I right?”

Me: “They’re not for me, but that’s really none of your business.”

Cashier: *offended and hostile* “Y’know, it’s people like YOU who make the world a terrible place! Try being friendly instead of such a b****!”

Me: “Just finish ringing me up, please.”

Cashier: “I HOPE YOUR B****** KID HAS A.D.D.!”

(I have just gotten off of a split shift, during my second seven-day work week. My children have joined me for the last part of my second shift to help me out and we are heading home. It’s just after 8:30 pm, and I’ve been at it since 6 am. We go to the pharmacy next to my store to buy some ibuprofen, and I go up to the pharmacy desk to pay since the main cash has a huge lineup of people buying toilet paper and snack foods. After waiting about two minutes the pharmacy technician, who’s been looking at me and sighing deeply, finally comes to serve me.)

Employee: “Are you here to pick up a prescription?”

Me: “No, I’d just like to pay for these.”

Employee: *as she’s scanning my pills* “Okay, well this cash is only for prescription medication purchases. You should really have gone to the main cash.”

(I’ve often seen customers paying for everything from band aids to makeup at this cash without buying prescriptions, as long as they had some sort of medication with them from the pharmacy area where I picked up my pills.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry about that. I just assumed that you pay for medicine at the pharmacy counter. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Employee: “Yeah, well we’re really busy you know, and this takes me away from doing all my work. Now it’s going to take me even longer to finish up and get out of here tonight.”

Me: “Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I work in retail myself, I know how frustrating it is when you’re busy and you have to stop to help a customer or coworker. It can be—”

Employee: “And you know, just because it doesn’t look like we’re doing anything, it doesn’t mean we’re not busy. We have a lot to do here and this is really annoying! You know, people are just leaving us with their prescriptions all the time.”

Me: “Well, that is your job but still I can understand—”

Employee: “When customers like you waste our time like this it’s really annoying. It’s going to take us even longer to finish up now.”

(The pharmacist finally hands me my change. My children are clinging to me nervously and the customers around me are all shuffling around awkwardly, trying not to look our way. I’ve had enough.)

Me: “Look, I’ve literally been working since 6am. I worked seven days in the last week, I have one day off this week, and I’ll be working from home, and then I work another seven days. I am exhausted, and I regularly have to stop what I’m doing to help my customers, coworkers and employees even when they really could have managed without me. I regularly have to work late or start early due to these interruptions, and my job is 90% physical work on the floor doing heavy lifting and going up and down ladders in a dusty stockroom. You are preaching to the choir here lady. And I’ll tell you, I have never spoken to a customer the way you just spoke to me, or made them feel guilty about coming in to shop and making me do my JOB! Thank you and good night.”

(Our pharmacy has recently switched to a new manufacturer of Lorazepam, which requires refrigeration. I overhear a conversation between a patient’s caregiver, and the pharmacist.)

Caregiver: “So I was told this stuff has to be kept cold? Is it still good if it wasn’t?”

Pharmacist: “No, you’re going to have to get it replaced. If it’s been left in room temperature for more than a few hours, I cannot recommend you giving it to your patient.”

Caregiver: “Well nobody told me it had to be kept cold! I want a free replacement.”

Pharmacist: “We put ‘REFRIGERATE’ on every label; don’t you read your patient’s labels?”

Caregiver: “I don’t have time to read all the labels.”

Pharmacist: “Then how do you know you’re giving the drugs properly to the patient?”

Caregiver: “…”

Pharmacist: “That’ll be $30 for a new bottle.”

(I am at the pharmacy picking up my prescription. I am standing in line behind a very elderly lady.)

Pharmacist: “Hello, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

Elderly Lady: “I am picking up my prescription. It’s under Mrs. [last name].”

(I overhear the elderly lady, and realize that she has the same last name as I do. This is not a totally uncommon name, but it doesn’t happen too often.)

Pharmacist: “Okay! Here we go I think it’s… huh…”

(The pharmacist looks confused as she picks up some pills.)

Pharmacist: “Can you tell me your first name please? I don’t think I grabbed the right one.”

Elderly Lady: “Sure, it’s [first name].”

(By a crazy coincidence, this is my first name too! At this point the pharmacist widens her eyes in shock as she stares at the pill box in her hand. She starts to stammer.)

Pharmacist: “But… um… I don’t… uhh… how?”

Me: “Um, I think those might be mine. I have the same first name and last name. Those are my birth control pills.”

Pharmacist: “Oh thank GOD! I thought I was in the twilight zone!”

Elderly Lady: “Oh dear! No wonder! No I don’t want THOSE!”