(A customer comes to my till to pay for a fax.)

Customer: “I hate this country!”

Me: “Oh?”

Customer: “How much for my fax?”

Me: “It comes to $1.68.”

Customer: “Oh, no! I don’t have enough Canadian money left to pay for it. All I have is my American money.”

Me: “That’s okay, we accept American bills.”

Customer: “Oh, okay.”

(He hands me an American five dollar bill, and I give him his change is Canadian coins.)

Customer: “What’s this?!”

Me: “Your change.”

Customer: “But it’s Canadian!”

Me: “Yes, we are in Canada, sir.”

Customer: “But I gave you American money!”

Me: “Yes, but I have to give you Canadian money back.”

Customer: “But if I pay you in American, you have to give me American back!”

Me: “No, we don’t have American money.”

Customer: “Why not?!”

Me: “Because we’re in Canada.”

Customer: “How do I know you’re not screwing me for the exchange?”

Me: “The till calculates it for me.”

Customer: “Well, what am I supposed to do with this stupid Canadian money?”

Me: “You could buy things with it, or you could exchange it at the bank.”

Customer: “I hate this stupid country! Why would you give me Canadian change?!”

Me: “Like I said — because we’re in Canada.”

Customer: “But I paid with American money! How can you accept it but not give it back?!”

Me: “We accept it for the convenience of customers. If that’s all they have, then they can still pay for their items. But we don’t stock American money in our tills to give back to them.”

Customer: “Why not?!”

Me: *pause* “Because… we’re in Canada.”

Customer: “Oh, I can’t wait to get out of this stupid country!”

(A customer approaches me at the cash desk.)

Customer: “You remind me of my daughter.”

Me: “Oh, thank you.”

Customer: “I call her Pony-Face!”

(I’m an obviously Caucasian woman whose Irish and Scots ancestors came to the US in the mid-1700s. I moved to Minnesota after spending most of my life in Pennsylvania. I am a customer buying a a new suitcase and travel-size toiletries.)

Cashier: “Going camping?”

Me: “No, I’m going home to visit my family in Pennsylvania.”

Cashier: *smiles brightly* “Oh, I’ve heard of that! It’s in Europe, right?”

(I laugh before I realize she isn’t joking.)

Me: “Um, no. PENN-sylvania. You know, below New York, above Maryland.”

Cashier: *looks baffled*

Me: “Where the Declaration of Independence was written?”

Cashier: *confused look* “Well, I think you’ll do really good here. You don’t even look foreign and you speak English really well! Enjoy your trip!”

(I work in an adult-themed store that sells clothing. I am stocking nightwear on racks when a middle-aged customer appears.)

Customer: “Excuse me, can you find a [brand of bra] in this size? I looked everywhere and can’t find it.”

Me: “Alright…”

(I disappear into the aisles and return with a bra.)

Me: “Here you go.”

Customer: “Thank you so much!”

Me: “You’re welcome.”

(The customer wanders off to the changing rooms while I return to putting the clothes on the rack. The customer returns, wearing NOTHING except for the bra he just got for her.)

Customer: “How does it look? Will my boyfriend like it?”

Me: *shocked* “Uh… sure.”

Customer: “Thank you!”

(A coworker appears after the woman returns to the dressing rooms.)

Coworker: “Happened again?”

Me: “What is it about these stores that makes people forget their modesty?!”

(It’s a very busy Friday afternoon. As I’m serving customers, I hear a woman in the queue line speaking in a raised voice to her friend. She’s wearing a business suit and looks like a professional.)

Woman: “Look at that! Their job is so easy! All they have to do is put things in bags and stand behind a till! A monkey could do that.”

(Her friend looks very embarrassed as she prattles on, drawing stares from other customers in the process. Finally, she reaches my till and puts a basket full of items in front of me.)

Me: “Good afternoon. Would you like an eco-bag with your purchase?”

Woman: “Yes, yes, get on with it. I don’t have all day!”

(I proceed to scan the items through. Throughout, the customer is talking in to her friend about how easy this job is, and how stupid myself and my coworkers must be. I can feel myself tearing up, but try to ignore it.)

Me: “That’s £59.50, madam.”

Woman: “What? That’s not right! Stupid little b****! You can’t even get something this simple right!”

(Just then, a man being served at the next till speaks up. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans.)

Man: “Hey, lady, watch your mouth. This girl has been doing a great job and has been extremely patient with you. I’d have thrown you out by now.”

Woman: “How dare you talk to me like that! Do you have any idea who I am?”

(She brandishes an ID card for a well-known company at him, on which the words ‘HR team leader’ are visible.)

Man: “Well, what a coincidence.”

(He shows her his badge for the SAME company, which has the words ‘senior executive’ visible.)

Man: “I know your direct supervisor personally. I’ll be telling him about your attitude problem on Monday.”

Woman: “I… I…”

(She turns bright red, chucks the money at me and practically runs from the store. Her friend, grinning, follows.)

Man: “Man, pulling rank feels good sometimes.”