Me: “Doesn’t look like these sausages are scanning. Where did you get them from?”

Customer: “In the freezer. I know you can sell them to me. I work for a shop, too, and you can just put the price in and sell them to me.”

Me: *goes to check for a price – no other items, no price, don’t even sell them* “Sorry, I can’t sell these to you. We don’t even sell them! I’m not sure how they got there”

Customer: “No! You can and YOU WILL sell them to me! And you can do it now! Stop wasting my time. I want them and you can sell them”

Me: “I’ve literally never seen these before in my life. I don’t have a price for them. I thought they were new, and they’re not. How am I supposed to sell you what we don’t sell?”

Customer: “Just put the price in and sell them!”

Me: “But, there isn’t a price! Well, fine, how does £2 sound?”

(And that’s the story of how I sold sausages we didn’t even sell, because I “had to sell them and could sell them.”)

(I am on the phone:)

Person: “Hi, can I talk to Human Resources?”

Me: “Um, we don’t have a Human Resources department in our store.”

Person: “I’d like to speak with Human Resources.”

Me: “We don’t have Human Resources at this store.”

Person: “Oh, well, someone, I think he said his name is Joe, called me and asked if I could come in for a job interview, but it went to my voicemail so I’m calling back.”

Me: “Oh! Okay! Let me get the manager for you. And by the way, the manager’s name is Phil.”

Person: “Did you say his name is Joseph?”

Me: “No, his name is Phil.”

Person: “I hate this phone. His name is Joe?”

Me: “Phil.”

Person: “Joe?”

Me: “Phil!”

Person: “Is it Bill?”

Me: *giving up* “Yes.”

This story is part of our Joe roundup!

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Read the Joe roundup!

(I work at a popular home decor shop. An older woman comes in, and I make my way to greet her. It’s a sweltering day outside.)

Me: “Good afternoon, welcome!”

Customer: “It’s hardly good out. It’s boiling outside!”

Me: “I know; it’s miserable. I hate the hot weather.”

(The woman looks shocked and thrilled. She starts eyeing me up and down, appraisingly.)

Customer: “You do?”

Me: “Yup. I’m more of a winter girl. I love the snow.”

(At this point, the woman’s eyes grow huge and round, and she starts to bounce up and down a little.)

Customer: “Are you married?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Are. You. Married?”

Me: “Um, no, but I do live with my boyfriend.”

Customer: “Perfect! You should meet my son!”

Me: “I’m flattered, but like I said, I live with my boy—”

Customer: “He lives in Michigan! It snows there!”

Me: “That’s great for him, but I don’t plan on moving. And like I said, I have a—”

Customer: “He’s coming over for dinner tonight! You should come over!”

(At this point, I make up an excuse and hand her off to another customer. She leaves without buying anything. A few hours later, she comes back in. I’m the only free salesperson at this point, and as it’s corporate policy, I have no choice but to greet her.)

Me: “Hello again, ma’am. Is there anything I can help you—”

Customer: “Yes!”

(She pulls out her wallet, and grabs a photo of her son from it.)

Customer: “He’s famous! He’s a weatherman!”

Me: “Again, ma’am, that’s great, but like I said, I have a boyfriend, and I don’t know your son.”

Customer: “But he lives in Michigan!”

Me: “Ma’am, is there anything I can help you shop for?”

Customer: “Dinner is at seven! You should come by! He’d love you! You look so nice!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t come to dinner. I live with my boyfriend, and I don’t think he’d like that.”

Customer: “…but you said you like snow!”

(She finally gave up, but she kept moping around the store and shooting me morose looks. I felt so terrible for her son!)

This story is part of the second Heatwave roundup!

Read the next second Heatwave roundup story!

Read the second Heatwave roundup!

(An eccentrically dressed man comes up to my till. I go to scan his items…)

Man: “No, wait! I can’t stand the beeping noise. It disturbs me. Hold on.”

(The man puts his fingers in his ears and nods to me. I scan through his items and he removes his fingers.)

Me: “That’ll be £4.49 please.”

(The man hands me a £10 note and I take a £5 note out of the till to give him as change.)

Man: “Could you check that, please?”

Me: “I’m sorry? What would you like me to check?”

Man: “The £5 note. I need to know it’s real.”

Me: “Um, okay.”

(I take out our note-checking pen and show him that the note is genuine.)

Man: “Thank you. You can’t be too careful can you? The banks like to keep some fake ones in circulation so that the public think there are crime rings everywhere. But there aren’t; it’s just the banks.”

Me: “Ah, I see… Well, you have a nice afternoon, sir.”

Man: “Thank you! And may all your wishes come true!”

(We have a security company who picks up our banking a couple of times a week. They dress very casually so as not to draw any attention. They usually say hi or wave as they pass by our front counter, so that managers can be directed to the office. I am working on the floor when I hear a staff member yell from the front of the store. This staff member questions everything.)

Staff Member: *yelling* “[MY NAME], SECURITY’S HERE!”

(I race for our office door which is at the back of the store.)

Me: “Oh, I am so sor—”

Staff Member: *from front of store* “SECURITY’S HERE”

(I see him cringe.)

Me: “I’m sorry; I’ll be having words with her. It won’t happen again.”

(I quickly call the front desk on the phone.)

Me: “Okay, I have it. Stop calling it out. I need to talk to you later.”

(I finish with the security guy and head down to the front counter.)

Me: “[Staff Member], security has asked me to talk to you about the way you announce their arrival. You can’t do it like that”.

Staff Member: *in her usual loud shrill voice* “Why?’

Me: *quietly* “Because they are here to pick up the banking and don’t want to draw attention to themselves.”

Staff Member: “So? It’s their job.”

Me: “They don’t want to draw attention due to carrying thousands of dollars in their bag, so they don’t get held up or worse.”

Staff Member: “So what am I supposed to call them?”

Me: “For one thing don’t yell anything across the shop. If you must say anything, either phone or page. Call them a courier or something, but not security or banking guy. Just stop yelling it. Actually just page me to the office; don’t even call them a courier.”

Staff Member: “If I just page you to the office, how do you know who it is for?”

Me: *internally cursing* “They come on the same day every week. I’ll know.”

Staff Member: “But what if you call me and ask who it is?”

Me: *more internal swearing* “Tell me my boyfriend is here.”

Staff Member: “Your boyfriend? But you’re married”.

Me: *even more internal swearing* “That is how I’ll know it’s security.”

Staff Member: “Are you sure?”

Me: “Yes. I’m going on break.” *runs off before my internal swearing becomes external swearing*