(At the store where I work, the managers and cashiers get walkie-talkies, as does the employee manning the fitting room. On this particular day, said employee happens to be me. Because the fitting room is off to the side, I cannot see what’s going on up front.)

Cashier: “IT’S EVERYWHERE! [Manager], permission to wash hands?”

Manager: “Granted.”

(The cashier bolts to the restroom, which is next to the fitting room, and I don’t see her for a good five minutes. Finally she emerges.)

Me: “What happened?”

Cashier: “A customer tried to switch price tags… using chewed-up gum.”

(I work at a rather well known mall in my city. A woman comes up to the counter with an item. She’s very pleasant while I ring up her one lone item. I tell her the price and she stares at me confused.)

Customer: “No, the price is [price].”

(This happens a lot at our mall because in many foreign countries the tax is included on the price tag so I explain.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am. But there’s tax on this item. So it’s actually [price].”

Customer: “But I’m from Nigeria!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. And I hope you’re having a lovely visit . But it’s still [price]”

Customer: “No. How much is it because I’m from Nigeria?”

Me: “In this store, it’s the same price wherever a person is from. Will you paying with cash or credit today?”

(The customer grumpily hands me her credit card. The card is unsigned and company policy dictates I request photo ID. I confirm her identity, return her license, and swipe the card.)

Customer: “But I’m from Nigeria!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Please sign here. Thank you very much. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

(According to her driver’s license, Ms. Nigeria lived closer to the building than I did.)

(The store I work at sells a particular European brand that is sold in several countries. The brand prints their own price tag with the prices for each country, in that country’s currency, listed beside a small picture of the country’s flag. I regularly have to show customers which price is accurate to Canada, but this one was my favourite.)

Customer: “Excuse me, I can’t find a price on here.”

Me: “Oh, yes, I know it’s confusing. It’s the price beside the Canadian flag, here at the bottom.”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t think that’s right. See, this price here is cheaper. I think it should be this one.” *points to the British price, which is the lowest number on the tag*

Me: “I’m afraid that isn’t how it works, ma’am. This brand sells internationally, so they print the prices in different currencies. That price is in British pounds, so the cost is actually roughly the same.”

Customer: *stares blankly* “But this price is lower.”

Me: “Well, the British Pound is actually worth almost twice what the Canadian Dollar is, so while it looks like it costs less, the rate of exchange would put the prices almost equal. Regardless, the Canadian price is the one listed beside the Canadian flag, and we can’t sell it for anything else.”

Customer: “But this price is cheaper. I want this price.”

Me: *internal sigh*

(Eventually I just directed her to a similar shirt from a different brand that only had one price on it, which she bought. That shirt happened to cost $10 more than the Canadian price on the other shirt.)

(I have been called to the office of a recently appointed manager. She has been with the department for about a month.)

Manager: “This is a disciplinary for the downright unacceptable behaviour witnessed on your last shift.”

Me: “What unacceptable behaviour?”

Manager: “Regarding [Coworker].”

Me: “Well, he hasn’t told me!”

Manager: “I can understand why. Homophobia will not be tolerated in this organisation. Openly humiliating him in front of everyone for his sexual preference. I expected more from you.”

Me: “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’d rather talk to [Coworker].”

Manager: “I have made arrangements that you and he will no longer be working together.”

Me: “Whatever. I’ll speak to him after work.”

Manager: “Then I will make arrangements for his husband to pick him up directly. I know him personally.”

Me: “You mean my husband’s husband?”

Manager: “Yes, your husband’s… husband?”

Me: “Yes, [Coworker] is my husband.”

Manager: “But, he’s bisexual!”

Me: “True.”

Manager: “But, you’re a woman!”

Me: “Equally true.”

Manager: “But he’s gay!”

Me: “I thought we just agreed he was bisexual.”

Manager: “But, bisexuals aren’t real. They’re just pretending to be more normal.”

Me: *standing up and heading for the door* “Well, I can assure you they are real, and my husband is one!”

(I called HR about the whole thing and the manager actually confirmed it. She was sent on equal opportunity training but it hasn’t done a single bit of difference. In fact, it seems to have inspired her to out my husband as gay. Every time she’s caught meddling she’s either sent for more training or put on probation. I don’t think she is going to last much longer.)

(In class we got on the topic of the Northeast Blackout in 2003.)

Professor: “I was working in [Large Retail Store] at the time. We sold generators for way more than they cost, and we pocketed the cash.”