(A woman has entered our shop, which has a very generous returns policy. This is the second time she has visited with the same story, and the second time this conversation has played out.)

Customer: “I came in just before Christmas to swap [Cosmetic] for another one more suitable, and the lady behind the counter said she ‘shouldn’t do this’ but gave me an IOU since you were out of the one I needed. Then my wallet was stolen with the IOU in it. I came in last week and you wouldn’t help me. But I still want my [Product].”

Me: “I’m very sorry your wallet was stolen. Can you describe the person who served you?”

Customer: *perfectly describes a distinctive staff member*

Me: “That sounds like [Coworker]. She left the company over a month before Christmas. And she would have been perfectly qualified to issue you a credit note — no ‘I shouldn’t do this’ needed.”

Customer: “I still want my [Product].”

Me: “I don’t have any return, credit note, or ‘IOU’ to put into the system. It’s like having no cash.”

Customer: *getting angry* “I’m upset that you won’t give me my [Product]!”

Me: “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I have no credit note as evidence and the staff member you describe wasn’t here at the time you specified. And none of my staff would do an ‘under-the-table’ IOU. I’m always right here if they need help to process a return.”

Customer: “It’s not fair that I don’t get anything! No refund! No [Product]!”

Me: “I don’t have anything to use as tender.”

(I call the manager over, who listens to the story again. It goes around in circles so many times we give in.)

Manager: “I will give you a free [Product] this once. But it’s important that you understand that without any credit note, receipt, or evidence I can’t help you in future; it’s as if I went to another shop and said, ‘My $100 cash has been stolen! Can I have $100 of free stock?’ I’m sorry that your wallet was lost, but unfortunately I can’t give things away for free.”

Customer: “Hmff! Thank you.”

(I can imagine this lady might have gone on to trade all her invisible lost loyalty cards in for free juices and coffees. The customer is not always bright…)

(I work at a retail store in the electronic section and we sell video games. One day I get a phone call.)

Me: “Hello, this is [Store] in the electronics. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi, do you know much about Grand Theft Auto V?”

Me: “Sure, what can I do for you?”

Customer: “How do you buy a house in GTA5?”

Me: “Google it.”

(Both my roommate and I have worked retail for years. We are at a big box store shopping for a few things. We’ve been talking about terrible customers the whole trip.)

Roommate: “Oh. Wait. Why did I grab all of these lip balms? I don’t need more lip balm.”

(She then proceeds to cram the six or so lip balms onto a shelf with some mugs, since we are in the dishware section.)

Me: *aghast* “[Roommate], what are you doing!?”

Roommate: “I don’t remember where they’re supposed to go. Someone will put them back later.”

Me: “Are you KIDDING?! You are doing exactly what our terrible customers do! You need to put those back where they belong or take them up front with you!”

Roommate: *flippantly* “Don’t be silly. I’m not being mean about it. It’s their job to clean this stuff up.”

(I grabbed the lip balms and put them into my bag. When we checked out, I asked the cashier to place them among their “go-backs,” which are a pile of unwanted or returned items they keep up front that employees work through putting back as the day goes on. On the ride home, my roommate makes fun of me for “being a weirdo” and “giving that cashier more work to do.” She simply didn’t understand why I was so shocked. We didn’t remain friends after I moved out.)

(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.)