(I’m in the return line at a big department store when I overhear this conversation:)

Worker: “I’m sorry, but this receipt is two months old.  You only have ten days to return an item, even if it’s defective.”

Customer: “Braaaainz.”

Worker: “I understand it’s frustrating, but I’m tied by the corporate rules for returns.”

Customer: “BRAAAAAIIIINZ!”

Worker: “Sure, I can get you a manager, but she’s just going to tell you the same thing.   Corporate is very firm about the returns policy and she cannot override it either.”

Customer: “Braaaaainnzzz! BRAAAAAAIIIINNNZZZZ!”

Worker: “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, but again, there’s nothing more I can do about this.”

Customer: “Braaainz!”  *customer shuffles off*

Worker: *to me*  “Hi!  What can I help you with today?”

Me: *confused* “Um.  Brainz?”

(I am working the customer-service desk for the night-shift at a 24-hour retailer in a huge supermarket. It is a very quiet shift, with the few customers in the store shopping silently and not needing customer-service. In the early hours of the morning, one of my coworkers who has the day off comes running in, looking filthy, exhausted, and covered in blood.)

Coworker: “What are you still doing here?!”

Me: “What do you mean? My shift isn’t over.”

Coworker: “Dude! The zombie apocalypse has started! Haven’t you seen the news?”

Me: “No, I’ve been right here.”

Coworker: “But the store is overrun with zombies! I took a huge risk coming in here for supplies. You haven’t seen any zombies?!”

Me: “No! Just me and the customers.”

(We both stop to look around the store, and at the customers. Now that I am looking a little closer, the customers are walking around with a slightly exaggerated shuffling gait, a little bit more of a blank look than they usually do, and some seem a little less… fleshy than would normally be expected.)

Me: “Huh, I guess the zombies are the customers.”

Coworker: “You mean you’ve been working here surrounded by zombies all night and you didn’t even notice?!”

Me: “It’s the night shift.”

Coworker: “…Yeah, sounds about right.”

(I own a small business where I make and sell plush toys, all with patterns I create myself. I’m dealing with a new customer at a local anime convention where I’m selling them in the artist alley.)

Customer: “So, are these made locally?”

Me: “Yes, sir, I actually make them.”

Customer: “No, are they made locally?”

Me: “Yes… I make them.”

Customer: “I don’t think you’re understanding me. Are. They. Made. LOCALLY?!”

Me: *stands up, pointing to myself* “I—” *picks up plush toy* “—make. THEM.”

Customer: *sighs dramatically in irritation* “Yes, you SELL them. I want to know who makes them! D***, listen for once, will ya?”

Me: *waits a moment and extends hand* “Hello, my name is [My Name] and I’m the owner, founder, proprietor, and artistic mind behind [My Business]. Every plush you see here on this table was designed BY ME and sewn BY ME. No one else; nowhere else. Me and me alone. Me, as in ‘local business owner.’ What can I do for you?”

Customer: “Why didn’t you say so to start with?”

Me: “…”

(To make things worse, he didn’t buy anything.)

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(I work in a Halloween pop-up shop that sells costumes and accessories. A mother and her son, about five years old, come in.)

Boy: “Excuse me, I want a Batman costume.”

Woman: “Not too expensive, please.”

Me: “Okay! Let me show you where they are.”

(I lead them to the costumes and turn around to talk to them, and the boy is completely naked.)

Boy: “I’m going to try that one!”

Woman: “[Boy]! We need to put on your clothes!”

Boy: “But you said being naked is good for your soul.”

Me: *trying unsuccessfully to stifle laughter*

(The woman is frantically apologizing and trying to put on her son’s clothes.)

Son: “No! My soul!”

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(I work at a large big box retailer that sells fabrics, interior furnishings and home-wares, and craft. The phone rings.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store Name and Location]. You’re speaking with [My Name]. How can I help you this afternoon?”

Customer: “Hi, I was in your store earlier and I purchased some curtain fabric, and I have an issue with the piece.”

Me: “Okay, sure thing. If there are any flaws, just bring the piece back with your receipt and we’ll be more than happy to replace the piece for you.”

Customer: “Excuse me? Did I say the fabric was flawed?”

Me: “Uh, okay. So what is the issue then?”

Customer: “Well, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, I was in your store purchasing some curtaining fabric earlier today, and I paid for five metres. The problem is that I was only given five metres of fabric.”

Me: “Okay, well that is standard practice for all of our stores to give you as much fabric as you pay for.”

Customer: “Well, this is obviously unacceptable. What if I make a mistake when sewing the edges up? You should have given me half a metre extra, so I am coming back to the store now and I want five and a half metres of [fabric] waiting for me for the inconvenience you’ve caused me.”

Me: “That is fine; you’ll have to pay for the extra metre so I will let the department team know you’re coming in for the exchange.”

Customer: “Aren’t you listening to me? You owe me a free half metre of fabric so I will not be paying for it.”

Me: “Unfortunately, we cannot do this, madam. I apologise for any inconveniences caused but no customer will get fabric for free.”

Customer: “You clearly don’t understand how retail works, you stupid child.”

Me: “How about I get a manager to chat with you about this and we can go from there?”

(The manager who had been standing next to me the entire time laughing at me threw me a dirty look, and answered the call. The customer still didn’t understand why we wouldn’t give her the free fabric, and angrily hung up on my manager. She never came in, as far as we know.)