(I am 20 years old. I work in a store that sells t-shirts and novelty items to tourists. Much of my job involves folding shirts. A customer comes up and rummages through my pile of freshly folded, random shirts, unfolding five or six of them and dropping them on the floor.)

Customer: “None of these shirts are the same, or in my size!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am; these are shirts from the children’s section that I’m refolding. If you saw any you like, we have many of the same ones in adult—”

(The customer interrupts me as she spots my engagement ring.)

Customer: “What is that on your finger? You are too young to be married!”

Me: “It’s an engagement ring; my boyfriend of two years just proposed to me, but we don’t plan on getting married until after we finish college.”

Customer: “I can’t believe how you teens just throw marriage around like it’s nothing! You just get married so you can have pre-marital sex and babies out of wedlock! You should wait until you at least have a job! You should be ashamed!”

(The customer knocks down the rest of my shirt pile and storms out. A coworker has witnessed the entire exchange.)

Coworker: “I don’t think she thought about what she just said at all.”

(I work in a small specialty retail shop. It is the beginning of the day, so we only have $70 in each of the two cash registers, mostly change with a handful of $5 and $1 bills. Two customers come in and browse around, getting only a few small items each. They are the first customers of the day on my register. The first one gives me a $20 bill for a $4.79 purchase. I put the bill on top of the drawer, and count the change back to her.)

Customer: “You’re giving me the wrong change. I gave you a $50 bill.”

(I haven’t closed the register, and am just putting the $20 in its slot, so I show the customer the bill.)

Me: “No, you gave me a $20 bill, right here.”

Customer: “No, I know I gave you a $50 bill.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but it was a $20 bill. You’re my first customer, and this is the only $20 bill, and there are no $50 bills at all.”

Customer: “You must have put it into the safe slot.”

Me: “We don’t have one of those. Here, have a look.”

(I pull the drawer out, and show the customer the contents and the space underneath it.)

Me: “There’s no $50 bill anywhere. And no other bills over $5.”

(The customer’s friend decides to intervene.)

Customer’s Friend: “Don’t worry; it’s okay.”

(They exchange looks, and the first customer rolls her eyes.)

Customer: “Okay then, well, no point in making a scene about it.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(I check out the friend’s small purchase, who gives me a $50 bill. I give her the change and they both turn to leave. On the way out, the friend whispers to the first customer…)

Customer’s Friend: “You were supposed to let me check out first!”

(I work in a party and joke item store. Our policy for backpacks is you have to leave them at the front door, no matter what. I stop three kids as they enter.)

Me: “Excuse me, you have to leave your backpack at the front by the door.”

(Two of the kids put their bags up front. The third pretends he didn’t hear me.)

Me: “You have to put your backpack up front.”

Kid: “What? Why? Someone’s going to steal it if I leave it up front.”

Me: “I doubt anyone will want your backpack, but if it bothers you that much, write your name on a slip of paper and I’ll attach it to the bag.”

Kid: “F*** no. I’m not going to steal anything. You a**holes always think I’m going to steal something.”

Me: “The policy is that you put your bag up front. No one is immune to that policy. I don’t care if you’re an elderly man with a bag of candy; you still put it up front.”

Kid: “Man…”

(The kid gets annoyed and drops his bag at the door, and then stomps off after his friends. Thirty minutes later, he comes back.)

Kid: “See? I didn’t steal s***!”

(As soon as the kid picks his bag up, a plastic knife drops from his pants pocket, along with a pirate’s gold tooth, and a rubber mask slides halfway from under his shirt.)

(There used to be a shoe repairman in our store, but he retired over two years ago. People still come in looking for him, but usually understand that he is 90 years old, and didn’t want to continue working.)

Customer: “Excuse me, where’s the shoe repair guy?”

Me: “Oh, he retired.”

Customer: “What? Why?”

Me: “He was elderly and wanted to spend more time with his family.”

Customer: “So, nobody took over? That’s stupid!”

Me: “Well, it was his business. He just rented the space in our store.”

Customer: “Well, this is very inconvenient for me. I need these shoes fixed. Where is there another cobbler?”

Me: “I think there’s one in the town center.”

Customer: “Oh, well that’s way too far to drive!”

Me: “It’s five minutes away.”

Customer: “I don’t care! This is ridiculous! I need to get my shoes fixed. You guys should have kept the shoe repairman on.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we couldn’t exactly hold him prisoner here.”

Customer: “Well, you could have tried!”

(I work in a skateboard shop. I’m female and have been working on skateboards from the age of 15. A teenage black male customer approaches my coworker and me. My coworker is also black.)

Customer: “Yo, can you get out here and put fresh tape on my board?”

Me: “Oh I’ll be happy to do that for you! Did you want a design or logo cut out? I just did this one; it looks pretty good.”

Customer: “I ain’t having a girl touch my board. I want somebody who knows what they’re actually doing, not a woman!”

Coworker: “Actually, she’s probably the quickest and neatest taper here, and watch your attitude.”

Customer: “Nah man, I’m not having some b**** wreck my board!”

Coworker: “Right, that’s it. Get out of my shop.”

Customer: “What?! No way. You can’t kick me out because I’m black.”

Coworker: *gestures to self* “It’s hardly because you’re black, is it? It’s because you’re insulting staff. Get out.”

Customer: “That’s discrimination! I’m going to sue you!”

(The customer leaves, ranting all the way out the door about how girls shouldn’t work in skate shops and he’s going to sue us for discriminating on race.)

Coworker: “Yeah, good luck with that, mate.”