I start as a seasonal worker and move up to full-time in a big box electronics retailer in a significant college town. I am assigned to the computer area, and within a few months of working there, I am widely considered one of the department experts.

One day, a man comes in looking for a computer to use for his business. We have a fairly long interaction that goes mostly as standard for a large purchase, and he winds up selecting a series of products that are well into the thousands of dollars.

We get everything to the department register (the setup at this store is that the computer department employee rings up and processes the transaction for their customer, and no, it is not commission) and he pulls out his card. Per policy, I have to check the card, and the name and signature must match the customer’s ID.

I look at the card, and the name is very much not his.

Me: “Sir, do you have a different card?”

I explain the store policy. The customer becomes irate and demanding.

Customer: “No, you have to accept the card. It’s my sister’s name; the business is family-owned, and all the financials are in her name!”

We went back and forth for a while, the man fiddling with his waistband strangely, and finally, he applied for and received a store credit card and completed the transaction. He was wearing a gun club shirt, and on his way out of the store, his shirt pulled up, revealing what he had been fiddling with — the handle of a concealed firearm.

The same customer came back into the store some months later and asked for me by name. He was mostly apologetic and started out with, “You probably don’t remember me, I hope,” to which I responded, “Oh, I remember. You made quite the impression.”

He apologized some more and bought another thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise from me.

I kept my eye on where his concealed holster would be the entire time.

Years back, I sold my larger home when the kids had all moved out. I had a riding lawn mower at the time, but I wasn’t going to need it. I put it up for sale. Unsurprisingly — for reasons that will be obvious in a moment — I got an immediate reply. I told the prospective buyer to come get it. Shortly after, he arrived, looked it over, and said he’d take it.

Buyer: “You wouldn’t consider a little less for it, would you?”

Me: “It’s 105 degrees (40C), the middle of August, and it’s a decent riding mower for only $300. You realize that I can get a lot more for it?”

Buyer: *Visibly blushing despite the heat* “Um, well, I thought it was worth a try.”

Me: “It wasn’t.”

He got his mower, but his chutzpah was amazing.

Working the till area alone one evening, I am stocking the cigarette gallery as it is a quiet night. I have my back to the tills, but I do frequently glance over my shoulder in case a customer happens to come along. I am nearly finished and glance once more behind me, and there is a lady standing just on the other side of till two, just a little bit down from me. I apologise and move to the till to serve her. She waves off my apology and gestures ahead of her.

Customer #1: “You can serve this person ahead of me; I came up just this second.”

This is when I notice the young man. He is partially obscured by the large scratch card display between the two tills and is therefore in my blind spot.

Me: “Sorry, I didn’t see you, but I can serve you now. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

Customer #2: “I have been standing here for ages while you put away those cigarettes! You have been ignoring me this whole time!”

I realise then that every time I glanced behind me that I wouldn’t have seen him where he was standing, completely blocked from my view by the scratch card display, BUT he obviously could see me.

Me: “Again, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you at all, sir. You should have called out and I would have served you right away. What can I help you with?”

Customer #2: *Suddenly angry* “NO! THIS IS RIDICULOUS! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN ME!”

He storms out of the shop.

Me: *To [Customer #1]* “Sorry about that; I guess I should have been more vigilant.”

Customer #1: “Oh, don’t worry about him, love. As I walked up, I saw him duck into that blind spot when you turned around. I guess some people just want to start an argument over nothing. You did nothing wrong. I will have a £5 scratch card, please.”

I served her and thanked her for setting me straight. Talking to my manager later, he couldn’t understand what the guy’s problem was and we had a chuckle over the whole episode.

I guess some people really DO want to watch the world burn.

Some people really do just want something to complain about to give them purpose in life. We know this as we have another 10 Stories About Customers Who Just Wanted To Complain!

I work in a store that sells a lot of glassware like mugs and glass cups and other various fragile items that are all sold individually. These particular customers are my coworker’s, but as the woman and her pre-teen daughter have a few sets (like four of each) of glasses, my coworker asks if I can help out with paper wrapping the glasses since it is a slower day.

I take a few glasses that have already been rung up and take them to the second register to wrap up.

Everyone is engaging in small talk together, and the customer’s daughter is just playing on a cell phone. All of a sudden, my coworker’s stomach growls really loud.

Coworker: “Sorry. I missed breakfast today.”

Me: “Oh, and you have the late lunch.”

Coworker: “Yeah. Four hours into the shift before getting to eat is rough sometimes.”

Customer: “Oh, I’ve been there. Hopefully, it’s not too far off for you.”

Daughter: *Suddenly looking up, aghast* “Wait. You’ve been working for FOUR HOURS?!”

Coworker: *Chuckles* “Yeah, I work eight-hour days.”

Daughter: “Ohmygosh, no, that is way too long.”

The daughter wanders off, completely mind-blown, looking like she is about to fake faint at our shift hours, and all we can do is laugh until my coworker says:

Coworker: “Good thing I didn’t tell her I work forty hours a week.”

Like most tech-adjacent companies, we got hit hard with supply chain issues during the global health crisis. Thankfully, most things are running smoothly by now, but a few product lines are still playing catch-up. Most folks are understanding, especially since the website will give rough ETAs of “less than one week” or “two to four weeks”, etc.

Some people don’t read, though; we get an order in that’s marked “MUST SHIP TODAY FOR TUESDAY DELIVERY.” It is in fact Monday, and they DID pick overnight, but the order is out of stock. It’s my turn, so I call the customer up.

Me: “Hi, I’m calling about order [number] that you placed on our site?”

Customer: “Yes, we really urgently need that.”

Me: “I understand. Unfortunately, the product is out of stock; we won’t be getting them in until Thursday.”

Customer: “That’s fine. Just make sure it ships today.”

Me: “…I’m sorry, sir, we’re not able to ship today. It is not in stock.”

Customer: “Well, I need this tomorrow.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, sir, but the earliest we can get this to you is Friday.”

Customer: “You need to get this to me tomorrow.”

Me: “I can’t. It is currently in transit to us.”

Customer: “Then have them deliver it!”

Me: “‘Them’ who, sir?”

Customer: “Whoever’s transiting!”

Me: “Sir, you ordered one [specific battery]. What is being shipped to us is an entire pallet of about 2,000; we can’t have a freight truck divert to a completely different state to let you take out one case and then one product from that case.”

Customer: “Then what am I supposed to do?”

Me: “Either wait until Thursday for Friday delivery or find another company that has it in stock.”

Customer: “Can you ship it Friday to arrive on Tuesday?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, the ‘time travel’ ship method has been discontinued.”

I probably shouldn’t have said that part, but my manager sits at the desk next to mine and started laughing her head off, so I got away with it. And yes, the customer waited until Friday.