(I’m ringing out a woman and her daughter when I hear the daughter talking about her and her friends coming up with a Nimbus 2002, based on the flying brooms from Harry Potter. Being a fan, I chime in.)

Me: “You know, I always wondered why they never customized their brooms.”

Girl: “Customized?”

Mom: “Made them special.”

Me: “Like, the Slytherins would have green and silver, and the Gryffindors would have red and gold.”

Girl: “Scarlet and gold.”

(The mom laughs.)

Mom: “So, which house is your favorite?”

Me: “Definitely Gryffindor.”

Girl: “I like Slytherin.”

Mom: “She likes the bad guys.”

Girl: “Like Malfoy.”

Me: “Ugh, wait until my father hears about this!”

(I go to pick up an item that is on sale, but I can’t find any of them. There is one on a display.)

Employee: “Can I help you find anything today?”

Me: “Yeah, I’m looking for the [item] that’s on sale, but I don’t see any.”

Employee: *turning away from me* “Yeah, we put all of those out; if you don’t see it we don’t have it.”

Me: “Your website said you had some in stock, but I don’t even see a shelf space for them.”

Employee: *turns back around and points to an empty spot on the shelf* “They belong there, and as I told you, we are out of them.”

Me: *examines shelf spot* “That says it’s for [different item].”

Employee: “Oh, right. We don’t sell [items].”

Me: “I find that hard to believe, since they are on your website, and you have a display [item] right here.” *points to the exact item on display*

Employee: “I don’t know what you want me to say to you.”

Me: “How about you say you’ll look for it?”

(The employee called a manager over at that point. We found the item and I got a discount.)

(My mom is from a Spanish country, and sometimes mixes up English and Spanish accidentally. She goes into a store to buy some ice. The word for ice in Spanish is “hielo,” pronounced “yellow.”)

Mom: “Excuse me, can I get some yellow?”

Clerk: “Yellow what?”

Mom: “Yellow! YEL-LOW.”

Clerk: *wrinkles nose* “Yellow… what?”

Me: *laughing*

Mom: “Why are you laughing?” *realizes* “Oh… ice!”

Me: “She means ice.”

Clerk: *suspiciously gives her some*

(Mom hasn’t lived that one down yet.)

(A customer comes up. She has dark skin, as do I.)

Customer: “I need some quarters for this.” *dumps a bunch of change in my hand*

Me: “Okay.”

(I get her quarters, give them to her, and then get the hand sanitizer and start rubbing it in. She looks up from putting the quarters in her purse.)

Customer: “Why are you doing that? Are you afraid that you’ll catch my germs?!” *scoffs* “Are you afraid of a [race]’s germs? You racists!”

(She is yelling and everyone is looking at me. I feel mortified.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m am not racist. It was the money. The money has germs, not you!”

Customer: “Whatever! I’m not stupid and you’re being so obvious!”

Me: “Anyway, I have dark skin, too. How do you know I’m not [race], too?”

(She blinks and looks at me like she hadn’t noticed. She then grunts and turns to leave.)

Customer: “Well… Then, you’re racist against your own race! That’s the worst kind of racist!”

Me: “Have a good day, ma’am.”

(At the store where I cashier, we put the items that people purchase in plastic bags, which are visible behind the counter. This conversation happens everyday.)

Me: *ringing up a small item for a customer* “Will you need a bag for that?”

Customer: “No, that’s okay. Save some trees, right?”