I have come over to the US from the UK to work in our Florida office for a while.

While I am there, a recurring — irritating but not debilitating — medical condition flares up, so I decide on my next Saturday — I don’t work on Saturdays — to go to the pharmacy to get some of the usual medication — available over the counter in the UK — that I know will alleviate the symptoms.

There is quite a line, each member of which seems to be elderly, loquacious, and an old friend of the worker behind the counter, so it takes me quite some time to get to the front of the line. No worries. I have nothing else planned for the morning.

“Yes?” is the brusque greeting of the person behind the counter. I have just opened my mouth to speak when another gabby old woman comes sailing past me right up to the counter and starts a conversation with the staff member, completely ignoring the fact that there is another transaction about to take place.

I do the polite thing and wait for them to finish, standing aside quietly. In due course, that conversation finishes and the staff member’s attention finally focuses upon me once more.

Staff: “You still here?”

Me: “Well, yes, er …”

Staff: *Snapping* “What do you want, then?”

Me: “Er, can I have some [medication], please?”

Staff: “No, you can’t.”

Me: “Pardon me?”

Staff: “You need a prescription. Next!”

And another of her dear old friends came up to the counter to barney away as though they hadn’t seen each other for absolutely HOURS.

I gave it up as a bad job and took my destined-to-remain-unmedicated self out of that place and down to the beach, instead.

It is March of 2017 and we have some horrible windstorms. Power is out all across the state from twenty-four hours to weeks at a time. It is day one of the storm. I arrive at work to discover there is no power, but due to company policy, we are forced to stay open.

We have one person at the front who can process transactions in cash only, one person to verify prices as needed, and one person to limit the number of people in the store at one time, plus management. Our store policy indicates that in order to sell tobacco/vape and alcoholic products, we must ID every customer and scan their ID. We do this with regulars, out of towners, and even employees. It’s a dumb policy, but it’s to cover our butts.

Our sweet older lady is working the register, and I’m the price checker. Everything is going quite smoothly despite working by flashlight. Eventually, I hear arguing coming from the front.

Customer: “Just look at my ID and do the math! I need my cigarettes!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, I’m terribly sorry, but due to company policy I am unable to sell you cigarettes with no way to scan your ID.”

Customer: “F*** your policy! Just sell me the d*** cigarettes! I’m [number] years old!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry but it’s against store policy to sell tobacco or alcohol without being able to scan an ID.”

The customer stormed out in a huff. Over the next hour or so, this same scene happened again and again, for alcohol and cigarettes. We even put signs near all the appropriate products and on the front doors.

Eventually, our store manager — who is super nice 99.9% of the time — snapped and closed the store. He told us that we could leave the second our shift management got the okay from corporate. Luckily, about three hours later, we got the okay to finally leave. In the upcoming days, some of the same customers came in and acted as if nothing had happened, never apologizing for their obnoxious behavior.

In Australia, we don’t have one-cent pieces and instead round to the nearest five cents. Just after Christmas, a woman comes to the front counter to pay.

Me: “It will be $11.98.”

I see she is holding out cash.

Me: “Oh, it’ll be $12, then.”

Customer: “Wait, why is it $11.98 on card but $12 in cash?”

Me: “Umm…”

Customer: “Oh, I can’t believe I just asked that! Never mind!”

Me: “That’s okay; everyone’s brains stop working this time of year.”

She laughed and gave me $12 cash.

A customer drops off a prescription, but it doesn’t have a date of birth on it.

Me: “Have you ever dropped off here before?”

Customer: “No, it’s my first time.”

Me: “Okay, can I get the patient’s date of birth?”

Customer: “Yes, it’s 1-23-20.”

Me: “Okay, so January 23, 1920?”

Customer: “Yes, it’s for my grandson.”

Me: “Okay… So the year is 1920?”

Customer: *Agitated* “Yes! 19!”

Me: “Ma’am, this year is 2019.”

Customer: “Yes, I know what year it is!”

A man comes in and loudly says:

Customer: “Excuse me. I am very busy and important and I need just two of my heart medication and two of my diabetes ones!” 

Me: “Do you have a prescription?”

Customer: “I don’t. I’m just in town for the day on very important business and I forgot to bring my meds.”

Me: “We won’t be able to hand over meds without a script, but we can possibly help you with getting a faxed or emailed script from your general doctor or your regular pharmacy. Do you have their number?”

He lost his mind about how we were refusing to help even though he was “busy and important” and “he only needed four tablets.”

I pointed out that we weren’t going to do anything illegal but we could help him if he would just wait for ten minutes while we sorted it.

He stormed out, complaining about the service.