(A man comes into my store looking a bit irate. He pulls out an unwrapped DVD case of Mel Brooks’ “History of the World, Part I.”)

Customer: “I’d like to return this and get my money back!”

Me: “Was there something wrong with it?”

Customer: “I opened it up and there was no disc inside!”

(I open the DVD case to indeed find no disc inside.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t refund your money. This is something you’d need to take up with the manufacturer. This does happen rarely, but I can help get the contact info for the manufacturer if you’d like.”

Customer: “What!? Are you serious!? I want to talk to a manager!”

(My manager comes over and explains the same thing to him, how it’s outside of our policy to refund an item if there is no item to refund. The customer finally accepts this, but is livid.)

Customer: “Fine! Well, do you have History of the World, Part II then?”

Me: “Um… sir, that movie doesn’t exist.”

Customer: “Yes it does! I saw it once!”

Manager: “No, sir. There is a fake trailer at the end of History of the World, Part I. The one with Hitler ice skating.”

Customer: “Yeah! That’s the one! Where is it!?”

Manager: “Sir, like we already told you, it was fake. There is no History of the World, Part II.”

Customer: *storms out*

(I’m walking around the store seeing if any shoppers need help.)

Me: “Excuse me, sir, are you finding everything all right today?”

Customer: *turning* “Oh, what the f*** is this?”

Me: “Um… what is what?”

Customer: “I haven’t been helped by a single American since I got here. Are you people even hiring whites?”

(Our town has a regrettably accurate reputation for being somewhat racist. Customers often ignore non-white employees or refuse their aid. I’m of Indian descent, but was born and raised a few miles away in Phoenix.)

Me: “Sir, all our employees are American citizens. If you don’t need help, though, I’ll just go.”

Customer: “Hang on, where’s your manager’s office?”

(I point.)

Customer: “Good!”

(Without warning, he grabs my arm and drags me forcefully to the office. He pushes it open without knocking.)

Customer: “You need to arrest this man! He’s an illegal!”

(My manager turns in her chair. She’s got light brown skin, and is often mistaken for Hispanic.)

Manager: “Sir, I know for a fact [my name] is a citizen. And you need to take your hands off him right now.”

Customer: *not letting go* “Oh my God! They’ve got a Mexican in charge. No wonder you don’t hire whites!”

Manager: “Sir, more than half of my employees are white. Now let [my name] go or I will call the police.”

Customer: “Are you threatening me? I’m a real American, you can’t threaten me!”

(At this he pulls out a Swiss Army knife and points it at her.)

Manager: “No, I’m not. Would you like me to?”

(Without warning, she draws a knife of her own from nowhere and slams it point-first into the desk.)

Manager: “That’s one. I’m carrying nine. Let him go.”

(The customer goes pale and releases both my arm and the knife.)

Manager: “Thank you.”

(Instead of letting him go, my manager locked him in the office and called the police, who came and arrested him for assault and threatening with a weapon. As they were leading him out, my manager stopped him for a moment.)

Manager: “And by the way, I’m not Hispanic, I’m Romani. If you’re going to be a racist, at least learn the difference.”

This story is part of our India roundup!

Read the next India Roundup story!

Read the India roundup!

(I am working in a retail chain in the firearms department. It’s the opening day of hunting season so it’s very busy, but the person scheduled to help me has called off. Seven hours into my shift, I had not yet had a break or a lunch, so I can’t log into the register to ring someone up due to the blocks they place on us to avoid overworking.)

Me: “[Manager], I need your help out here.”

Manager: “What’s the problem now?”

Me: “Sorry, I can’t log in anymore. I’ve been clocked in too long. What should I do?”

Manager: “Here. I’ll log in and you run on my numbers.”

Me: “I am not comfortable with that. I don’t want to make a mistake and have you take the fall.”

Manager: “No, you just want a break, but you can’t have one! This is our busiest time for this department.”

Me: “No, that’s not it… I’m sorry.”

Manager: “Just do what I said. Take care of your job!”

(At this point, a customer interjects.)

Customer #1: “Miss, I’m sorry… how long have you been here?”

Me: “A little over seven hours now.”

Manager: “I’m going back to my office now.”

Customer #1: *to my manager* “No, hold on. You’re meaning to tell me, this girl has been waiting on people, hand and foot for seven hours with no break, and you have to go back to your office, rather than giving her five minutes to grab a glass of water? What’s so d*** important?”

Manager: “Well, the management was provided pizza for the hard work we’ve been doing and I’m going to get some.”

(With that, jaws of several customers drop, including the man who has spoken up. I, however, am used to things like this taking importance.)

Customer #1: “So you’re telling me that this girl is out here, actually doing the hard work you’re taking credit for, and you’re going to eat pizza rather than giving her a break? What’s your name? I’m reporting you.”

Manager: “It’s [name].”

(Customer #1 calls right there on the spot to the complaint line and states the issue. Meanwhile, I ask for the next customer.)

Me: “Can I help whoever is next?”

Customer #2: “No, honey. You have your hands full, but I do want you to have a blessed day.”

(I smile and ask for the next customer. In succession, EVERY customer tells me they’ll wait until I have my break before taking care of them. Meanwhile, Customer #1 has finished his phone call with the complaint line.)

Customer #1: *to me* “I’d like to see [manager]…”

(Less than a week later, my manager was fired for intentionally breaking labor laws. As a result of the situation, I was offered a promotion into his position. I took it, but three months later, as I was working on the floor to cover the girl who replaced me as she took a break, I was called to the office. I was actually reprimanded for doing work! I turned in my keys that day, and have not so much as shopped there since.)

This story is included in our Lunch Break story roundup!

Want to read the next story? Click here!

Want to read the story roundup? Click here!

(I’m 25 and my niece is 28. We also look younger and older for our age.)

Cashier: “Are you two related? You seem close.”

Me: “She’s my niece.”

Cashier: “You mean you’re her niece?”

Niece: “I’m older, yes, but I’m her niece.”

Me: “Yep, really.”

Cashier: “That doesn’t make sense. No niece is 10 years older than their aunt.”

Me: “Actually, she’s only 3 years older than me.”

Cashier: “Doesn’t make any sense. Aunts are one generation up than nieces.”

Niece: “If you count by ages, my grandma and mom had children in their early 20s…”

Me: “…and my mom, her grandma’s sister, is 15 years younger. My mom was in her late 30s when she had me.”

Cashier: “That’s a mess. What if you are older than your mom?”

Niece: “Huh?”

Me: “How is that even possible?”

Cashier: “I don’t know. It’s a mess, like you two!”

(An older couple and their adult daughter are checking out. One of the man’s arms is in a stiff brace that covers his forearm up to his fingers. While the fingers are uncovered, he doesn’t appear to be able to move them reliably.)

Mother: “I’m starving.”

Father: “We’re almost done.” *struggles with wallet to pay, refusing help from the two women*

Mother: “I’m so hungry I could rip off someone’s arm.”

Daughter: *sounding completely serious* “Well, Dad’s got an arm he’s not using.”