(I work in a store that sells iPhones. “Five Nights at Freddy’s” is a survival/horror game that takes place in a children’s restaurant. The player has to spend five nights as the night security guard while not getting found by the stores animatronics. If one of the animatronics catches the player, they stuff him into a spare suit and he dies. This is accompanied by a jump-scare. “Five Nights at Freddy’s” has been recently released as an iOS game. A woman walks up to my counter and SLAMS a phone on the counter.)

Woman: “I demand compensation! You people should be ashamed of yourselves!”

Me: “With all due respect, ma’am, what did we do?”

Woman: “You’ve scarred my son for life, that’s what!”

(She turns on the phone, and it shows the title screen of “Five Nights at Freddy’s.”)

Woman: “My son played this game and it scared him so much he started crying!”

Me: “That’s, uh… what the game is meant to do. How old is your son?”

Woman: “He’s eight! He came up to me and asked if he could buy this game, and I said yes, and when he played it he started BAWLING!”

Me: “You let your eight-year-old son play a horror game?”

Woman: “Of course I did! He should be able to do what he wants!”

Me: “And what would you like for your ‘compensation,’ ma’am?”

Woman: “I demand you give me back the money for this phone!”

Me: “So, let me get this straight… You let your eight-year-old son play a horror game that we didn’t make. A horror game that is designed to scare people. He got scared, and you want the full price of the phone, given back to you, for something that did its job, that we didn’t make, was caused by your bad judgment, and, if anything, probably only cost you one or two dollars?”

Woman: “Yes!”

Me: “Get out of my store.”

Customer: “I would like to make a complaint!”

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Customer: “That manager over there was swearing! It is very unprofessional!”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear about that. I will talk to him about it.”

(I go up to my manager.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager], a customer complained about you.”

Manager: “Oh?”

Me: “Yeah she said it was unprofessional for you to be swearing while on the job.”

Manager: “Well, tell her I don’t give a f***!”

(I work in a Toyworld store which is the Australian version of Toys R Us. People often come into the store thinking it’s Toys R Us but quickly realise their mistake.)

Me: *ringing up large order* “That will be [price].”

Customer: *places coupon on counter* “I have this coupon for 25% off.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but this coupon is for Toys R Us; you can’t use it here.”

Customer: “Don’t give me that! I have this coupon and I want my discount.”

Me: “This isn’t Toys R Us…”

Customer: “Don’t tell me lies! I know what store this is! I can read!”

Me: “This coupon says Toys R Us. That sign up there, flashing, says Toyworld. My shirt says Toyworld. The register in front of you shows Toyworld. The massive sign above the door says Toyworld. Not to mention all our signs have a purple bear on them…”

Customer: “And what do you call that?” *shoves coupon towards me pointing at the Toys R Us mascot*

Me: “Sir, that’s a giraffe.”

(The customer still refused to believe me but paid full price anyway, vowing never to shop at Toys R Us again. Oh, well.)

(My aunt works at a large retailer. A customer comes through her till on a day when the debit/credit machines are down. They have large signs posted near the doors as well as on every till. There are also announcements every ten minutes that it is a cash only day because of the blackout earlier. This day, she is working in the express lane. After scanning all the customer’s items through:)

Aunt: “Okay, your total today is [total].”

(The customer holds up his card.)

Aunt: “Today our machines are down because of the blackout; you need to pay cash.”

Customer: “I didn’t know that!”

Aunt: “We have signs up near the door and also on every till as well as right here.”

(She taps the sign that is right beside her register’s screen.)

Customer: “Oh, well, I don’t read signs.”

Aunt: “We also have had an announcement about every ten minutes over the intercom about it. You must have heard it at least twice while you were waiting in line.”

Customer: “I don’t pay attention to those announcements!”

(He took cash out and left.)

(I work at a store that mainly sells barbecues, but also sells accessories and sauces. The store doesn’t typically have massive discounts on barbecues because the markup isn’t all that much over cost. This happens one night after closing:)

Manager: “I think I have an awesome idea for a promotion. We should give people a 10% discount on a barbecue if they eat a pickled habanero.”

Me: “Uh… that’s probably not a good idea. They are really hot. People have died from the side effects of eating hot foods that are outside their tolerance.”

Manager: “They can’t be that hot. They’re pickled. You’ve tried them, haven’t you?”

(My manager and most of the rest of the staff know that I am a chili head — someone that enjoys incredibly hot foods.)

Me: “Yeah, I took a jar home that had expired. They were spicy.”

(Hot sauces don’t go bad, but we aren’t allowed to sell them if they have an expiry date printed on them and it has passed.)

Manager: “Well, that was an old jar. They must have gotten hotter.”

(This doesn’t make sense to me, as the pickling juice would absorb the capsaicin, the stuff that makes hot peppers hot, making the old jar lose heat as time went on.)

Manager: “Let’s pop open a new jar and see.”

(The manager and I, as well as the rest of the staff still there, head to where the sauces are kept, and he opens a new jar and hands it to me.)

Manager: “Try one. See if it’s hot.”

(I take a habanero out and pop it in my mouth and start to chew. I feel a slight tingle, which I have learned means most people would be screaming from the pain now.)

Me: “Yeah, they’re hot.”

Manager: *giving me a funny look* “You’re not freaking out. You’re not even sweating. They can’t be that hot.”

Me: “Take my word for it. They are hot.”

Manager: “Give me one of those.”

Me: *doubtfully* “Are you sure?”

Manager: “I like hot foods, too. They can’t be that hot if you’re not reacting.”

Me: “Fine.”

(I pass him the jar, and he takes out a habanero and pops it in his mouth. Almost immediately his face turns red and his forehead starts beading with sweat.)

Manager: “OH, MY GOD!”

Me: “I warned you.”

(The manager ran to the back where we kept a small fridge for employee lunches and stole someone’s egg salad sandwich, and came back to the front eating it and moaning in pain. He agreed that it was a bad idea, and I got a new bottle of pickled habaneros to take home.)