(We’ve just installed a new Point of Sale system at work. It is painfully simple to operate. One of my staff members is nice but unbelievably slow and ineffective at her job. I am trying to teach her the basics of the new register while serving a customer.)

Me: “Since your customer is paying in cash, hit the ‘Cash’ button.”

Associate: *gives me a blank look*

Me: “Top left.”

Associate: *nothing*

Me: “Very top button on the left.”

Associate: *still nothing*

Me: “Put your left hand up and touch the button that says ‘Cash.'”

Associate: *continues to stare at the screen*

Me: *pointing* “That one.”

Associate: “Oh, okay.”

Me: “Now, this new register has a neat function where it suggests likely forms of payment on the left, or you can just type in the amount. So, her total is $15.19 and she’s giving you $15.25. I think it’s easiest to type in 15.25, but if you want you can touch the amount on the left. It’s got exact change, $15.25, $15.50, $16.00, $20.00, the top seven amounts the register thinks is likely.”

(The associate proceeds to touch the wrong button, selecting $15.50 instead of $15.25. Naturally, this alters the amount of change the register prompts her to return.)

Me: “Okay, you hit the wrong button. Understandable, they’re really close together and touch screens are fussy. So instead of giving her 31 cents, just give her 6 cents back.”

Associate: *stares at the computer*

Me: “…Because you’re just pretending you didn’t ring that extra quarter.”

Associate: *stares at screen*

Me: “You just need to subtract twenty-five cents from what the computer is prompting, because that quarter isn’t there. So, it’s six cents.”

(The associate turns around to use the adding machine on the counter behind her. Note: she can’t use the adding machine either.)

Me: “Or, you figure the difference between 25 cents and 19 cents, which is still six cents.”

Associate: *can’t figure out how to subtract on the adding machine*

Me: “I assure you, it is 6 cents!”

Associate: *mashes buttons on adding machine*

(I look at the customer wide-eyed, give a small shrug of defeat, and hand the associate a handheld calculator.)

Me: “Here, use the calculator. It’s quicker.”

Associate: *finally figures the change and gives the customer her six cents*

Customer: *mouthing to me* “Good luck!”

(The kicker? The associate has a Master’s Degree!)

(I work in the electronics department of a large retail store. I receive a phone call one morning.)

Me: “Hello? Electronics department, how can I help you?”

Caller: “Well, I’m on your website looking at your [brand name] TVs. You got two on here I like, a 26 inch and a 32 inch. What’s the difference?”

Me: “Well, sir. It depends. Are they Plasma, LCD, LED?”

Customer: *cutting me off* “No, no, no! I don’t care about any of that. I just wanna know which one’s bigger!”

(I work part-time at a store that sells pools, hot tubs, and other leisure items.)

Me: “Will that be everything today?”

Customer: “Yes, miss. What’s the damage?”

Me: “That’ll be $50.05, sir.”

(The customer opens his wallet and hands me a $50 bill.)

Customer: “I’m sorry, but I only have the $50. I left my coin-purse at home today. Is that okay?”

Me: “Not a problem, sir. I’m sure I’ve got a nickel in my purse, somewhere.”

(I get a coworker to watch my till while I grab my purse from the staff room and try to find a nickel. I grab one, put it in the drawer, and cash the customer out; he thanks me and leaves the store, but a few hours later, my boss pages me to call his office immediately.)

Me: “You rang, sir?”

Boss: “Yes. Can you come to the front of the store, please? There’s someone who wants to speak with you.”

(When I reach the storefront, the same customer is standing at the counter. He’s holding a beautiful, red rose, which he gives to me—along with a nickel!)

Me: “T…thank you, sir. You know, you didn’t have to do this!”

Customer: “Yes, miss. I did. You went above and beyond your job-description to help someone in need, and that’s customer service!”

Me: *trying not to cry by this point* “Thank you so much, sir! Have a nice day!”

Customer: “And you as well, young lady!”

(After he left the store, my boss sent him a $50 gift-card, for ‘treating our staff like human beings’. It’s been 10 years since then, but I’ll never forget that customer for as long as I live. To this day, his kindness reminds me that there is still good in this world!)

(I’m female and a massive anime fan. Today, I am purchasing the Dragon Ball Z complete box set from a store I often frequent.)

Cashier: “No way! Dragon Ball Z! Man, I love this show!”

Me: “Really? I never thought I’d find people that love it as much as I do!”

Cashier: “Oh yeah! When those alien guys with the tails come to Earth and blow everyone up… ace!”

Me: “…Y-yeah! I think the level of love I have for the show is over 9000! ”

(Embarrassingly, I start snorting with laughter at my own quote.)

Cashier: *suddenly deadpan* “What’s so funny about something being over 9000? Over 9000 what?”

Me: “It’s a quote from the show. You know, when Nappa asks Vegeta what Goku’s power level is? It’s quite a well-known quote!”

Cashier: “Ugh, you total geek! Why the h*** would I know something like that?”

Me: *speechless*

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(I’ve just started a new job after having a baby a few months back. I’m a single mother. I am processing my first refund-to-gift-card transaction. I’m having a little bit of trouble with it, so I ask if they would mind if I called my manager.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. This is my first time doing this. Would you mind if I phoned my manager to ask him how it’s done?”

Customer: “Go figure! That’s what happens when we start hiring women! They can’t do anything right, can they? You ought to be barefoot pregnant in the kitchen, not taking jobs from hardworking men.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, sir. I actually just started this job after having a baby.”

Customer: “So, you’re leaving a real man at home to look after your child while you take money for yourself?”

Me: *appalled* “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’m just going to call my manager to ask him how the refund is done.”

Customer: “Go home to your b*****d baby! Leave the jobs to real men!”

(At this point, a tall, metal-ead-looking man with long hair, piercings, and ripped jeans approaches the counter behind the man. I recognize him as a teacher who substituted for some classes when I was in school. He speaks up.)

Substitute Teacher: “If all the jobs are for hardworking men, what the h*** are you doing here at two in the afternoon instead of working?”

(The customer turned white at the sight of him, gathered up his items, and ran off without getting his refund. I thanked the substitute with my first ever gift card transaction, and he took me out to dinner. He, my baby, and I have been a family ever since!)

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