(I am starting to shut down my food cart. It has a ‘Now Hiring’ sign, which lists the wages. A man in his 40s walks up to take a food sample.)

Customer: “You know, if you lived in North Dakota you could get an easier job at $15/hour.”

Me: “Uh, that’s nice.”

Customer: “But that’ll change when Obama takes over the country. The wages will drop then.”

Me: “… That’s okay. I’m actually planning on moving to Canada in the next couple of years.”

Customer: *suspicious look* “Canada… You know who I’d trust to run my health care?”

Me: “No?”

Customer: “You. But I wouldn’t trust the Government. They’re shady.

Me: “Yeah. The government does seem to hide a lot from us.”

Customer: “It’s all because of Israel and The Vatican, anyway. Have you heard of the Jesuits?”

Me: “… Kind of?”

Customer: “Well, the black pope is running the Vatican from Jerusalem. See, he thinks the Ark of the Covenant is there. That’s why he wants to sit atop it and rule the world from there. He’s the one who’s actually in control of the Vatican, and running the USA.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “That’s why the USA likes Israel so much! It’s all because the Vatican is baptizing aliens.”

Me: “Aliens like… foreigners?”

Customer: “No, aliens! You know… The greys, the lizard people…”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Anyway, Obama. His name isn’t even Barack. He grew up in Indonesia, and people called him ‘Barry.'”

Me: “Well, Mitt Romney’s first name is actually Willard, which is worse in my opinion.”

Customer: “Hmm… That’s true…” *gives thoughtful suspicious look, as if he’s now distrustful of Romney*

Me: *coughs*

Customer: “Anyway. North Dakota. Think about it.” *walks off*

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(I’m picking up a video game my brother ordered online. When I approach the customer service desk, there are three employees working the front and two customers in front of me. After waiting a few minutes I go up to pick up my order.)

Me: “Hello. I’m here to pick up—”

Employee #1: “One moment, sir.”

(I assume he’s going back to restock, instead he turns around and spends 10 minutes gossiping in front of me with a coworker about some very promiscuous girl they know.)

Employee #1: “All right, sir. How can I help you?”

Me: “I have an online order to pick up. It’s—”

Employee #1: “Can I have your name?”

Me: “Well, I’m [Name], but the order—”

Employee #1: *throwing up his hand to stop me* “I don’t see that name on any of the online orders. Are you sure you ordered at this branch?”

Me: “Yes. If you will please—”

Employee #2: “Well, your name isn’t on the list, so you might want to check again.”

Me: “Listen! This order is for my brother, [Brother]. If you will look up the order you’ll see my name as the alternate for pick up.”

Employee #1: *glaring at me now* “Well, you don’t have to be so rude about it.”

(Instead of going to the back where all the pre-ordered items are supposed to be held, he instead heads to the other side of the store. I spend another five minutes waiting before he finally shows up with the game and, oddly enough, a 350+ piece Lego set.)

Employee #1: “Here’s your order.”

(I’m a bit confused since my brother only mentioned the game.)

Me: “Are you sure? Can I get a receipt with this?”

Employee #1: “We don’t give receipts for online orders. Now, if you’ll please move, sir, you’re wasting everyone’s time.”

(I simply walked out rather than try to correct him. I found out later they never charged my brother for the Lego set.)

Customer: “I’d like to return this game.”

(He hands me a sports title, which is several years old.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept open game returns, particularly games purchased at a competing store.”

Customer: “I purchased the d*** thing here!”

Me: “I’m afraid you didn’t. We don’t open games and put [competing company]’s stickers on the cases.”

Customer: “Well, why the f*** not?”

(I have just been assigned a new hire to shadow me on the registers when a customer with two heaping carts walks up to my register. I give her a friendly greeting, but she ignores me and starts piling her things (mostly $2-$3 clearance children’s clothes) on the counter. After I finish scanning the entire pile, she begins to scrutinize the screen which shows her the items she’s buying, including the prices and total.)

Customer: “How much is it?”

Me: “$150, ma’am.”

Customer: “That’s too much. Start over.”

(By this point, I had already spent more than ten minutes scanning her items.)

Me: *surprised* “Start over? I could just take off what you don’t want instead.”

Customer: “No. Scan it again. Start over.”

(The customer then starts digging through the pile, alternately throwing things at me, on the floor, and in several disorganized heaps on the counter. I void out the first transaction and reach for one of the piles to begin scanning again, but she slaps my hand away. After a while, she shoves a few shirts into my face, and then grabs them away when I move to scan them. Eventually, after another fifteen minutes, I have a pile of scanned items that she seems to approve of.)

Customer: “Here, I don’t want these either.”

(She throws still more items from the bottom of her cart at me. At this point, my bin for rejected items has long since overflowed, and the pile beside it is threatening to tumble over. Finally satisfied, the customer presents a coupon that doesn’t start until the next day.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. That coupon starts tomorrow, and I’m not allowed to accept it early. If you like, you could bring your receipt in tomorrow to get it adjusted.”

Customer: “Don’t bother. Just hold it until tomorrow for me.” *begins to walk away*

Me: *calling after her* “Ma’am! I’ll need your name to put it on hold!”

Customer: *storming back* “FINE! It’s [Name]! You’d better not lose all that! I spent a lot of time finding it all!”

Me: “Of course not, ma’am. It will be waiting for you at customer service. Have a nice day.”

Customer: “Whatever.” *marches out the door*

Me: *to new hire* “I think I need to take my break now. I’ll have you shadow [other cashier] until I get back.”

New Hire: “Does that happen a lot here?”

Me: “Unfortunately, far more than it should.”

(I am known by my manager for being a bit too quiet sometimes, a side effect of my social anxiety. A customer approaches me holding a shirt and a bit of paper and a pen. I understand immediately what the issue is as we have a short back and forth of price checking by writing to each other on the scratch paper. My manager witnesses this exchange and pipes up.)

Manager: “[My Name], I know it’s crowded right now, but please use your words.”

Me: “She’s deaf.”