(My eight-year-old brother and I are discussing words that end in ‘cide’.)
Me: “Homicide is killing someone else, only sometimes it’s more specific. Like if you kill your mother, that’s matricide. And if you kill a king, that’s regicide.”
Brother: “What do you call killing someone by dancing?”
Me: “Jazzercide.”
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(I work at a store where every item is $1 or less. It’s an average Sunday afternoon when a woman wearing a nice dress and heels and her friend approach my register.)
Me: “Hi, how are you? Did you find everything okay?”
Customer #1: *eyes bulge as though she has been offended and glares at me.*
(I shake it off and ring her up for $2.90 worth of merchandise. The woman then pays with a $100 bill. I carefully count out her $97 dollars to her, and hand her the ten cents. At the last second, her hand overturns and the dime falls somewhere beneath the register. I try to find it, but can’t.)
Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t find your dime. It might have fallen on your side of the register?”
Customer #1: “You THREW change at me!”
Me: “Ma’am, I didn’t throw anything. I’ll call up my manager and I can get you another dime from my till.”
(I intercom my manager, who tells me she won’t come to the front because she’s on her break.)
Customer #1: *clutches the $97* “I WANT MY MONEY!”
(The couple behind her in line are watching with their mouths hanging open. The man mouths, “I’m sorry” to me and then speaks up.)
Customer #2: “Here, ma’am. Here’s a quarter. You are holding up the line, so can you please go?”
Customer #1: *to Customer #2* “I am SO sorry…” *points at me* “…SHE is horrible!”
Customer #2: “Well, take my quarter.”
Customer #1: “NO! I want MY dime!”
Customer #1’s Friend: *to me* “Yes, miss, you need to apologize to her and give her the money!”
(Customer #2 once again tries to get Customer #1 to take the quarter and leave. Finally, she storms out, stomping her feet the whole way.)
Customer #2: “Wow… do you deal with this a lot?”
Me: “Unfortunately, yes.”
Customer #2’s Wife: “Hey look, I found a dime!”
(My manager and I later reviewed the security video. In it, Customer #1 clearly turned over her hand and dropped the dime by her feet!)
(It’s Christmas time, and the parking lot has completely filled at the mall where I work. A shuttle is actually taking customers from a stadium across the highway where they are letting us overflow traffic. We’re busy at work when we hear a loud crash outside. An SUV has jumped the curb, onto the sidewalk and slammed into a willow reindeer in front of our window. We all rush out, to see if anyone was hurt, in time to see a woman getting out of the driver’s seat.)
Manager: “Are you alright?!”
Woman: “The only thing not alright here is your godd*** parking lot. There’s no f***ing parking anywhere!”
(Cursing up a storm, she yanks two kids out of the backseat and starts walking away.)
Manager: “Hey, you can’t leave your car here!”
Woman: “The h*** I can’t! There’s no other godd*** place to park!”
(Right after she leaves, security arrives. Our store’s door is partially blocked for an hour while they tow the car, and we fill out paperwork with her description and the police are called to assess the damages. Just before close, the woman and her kids, all laden with shopping bags, come storming into our store. She notices her car is missing and begins screaming and yelling. I run to telephone security.)
Manager: “Mall security towed your car because—”
Woman: “The h*** they did! You took the car!”
Manager: “I took it?”
Woman: “You and your little girlies over there must have pushed it somewhere! Where is it?!”
(She barges past the manager, through the store, and into the backroom. A moment later, we hear screams and something smash. I get off the phone with security and rush back to find she has smashed our employee coffee pot and is knocking over boxes. Seeing me, she shoves back onto the selling floor, and starts knocking over fixtures and mannequins. The manager has rushed all other customers to the fitting rooms for their safety. Grabbing her kids, the woman heads for the door and is literally tackled by mall security. She not only ends up arrested for property damage and assault charges, but they find shoplifted items in her bags. The clincher? She wrote in to corporate later, complaining about our customer service and demanding a free gift card!)
(I am doing my weekly groceries, and I overhear a conversation between an 8 year old and her mother.)
Daughter: *in a clear, loud voice* “Mummy, what is this for?”
(The mother, red as beet, explains in a hushed tone about condoms. The daughter listens intently.)
Daughter: *even louder and clearer* “But why does it say ‘strawberry taste’?”
(The mother turns even redder, and I have to stop for a moment as I can hardly contain my laughter.)
(This story takes place at a mall about five minutes from the USA/Canada border. Today, I am working at the register. A Canadian customer approaches me.)
Customer: “Ugh! I hate this country!”
Me: “Hello, welcome to [Store]. May I ask why?”
Customer: “It’s so hard to tell the value of your money. You should color code it like we do in Canada!”
Me: “Well, if you look on all four corners on either side of the bill, the numbers you see denote the dollar value of the bill. You can also look at the bottom of either side of the bill, or to the right side of the face on the bill.”
Customer: “Ugh, why do you Americans have to make everything so difficult?!”
