I own and run a herbalist shop, wherein I sell my own fire cider. For those who don’t know, fire cider is vinegar mixed with spicy herbs and plants; some people take it during flu and cold season. It’s the only product that I personally make in my store, and it is something I am very proud of. It is, however, not for the faint of heart. The flavor is quite powerful!

One day, a customer comes in and samples a few things around the store before she comes to my fire cider.

Customer: “Can I try this one, too?”

Me: “Sure, though I should warn you that the flavor is very strong. How do you do with spicy things?”

Customer: “I love spicy foods!”

I take out a sample cup and pour her a sample. The cups aren’t even shot-sized; they’re pretty small. I also hand her a cup of water to wash it down. She drinks the fire cider and immediately starts coughing, sputtering, and then screaming.

Customer: “Did you just poison me?! My tongue and throat are on fire!”

Me: “Drink the water I gave you! I told you it was spicy!”

Customer: “I’m going to sue you! I’m going to get this whole place shut down for poisoning me!”

She throws her empty sample cup and half-full water cup at me before rushing out of the store. As she leaves, a couple comes in.

Man: “Is everything okay?”

I start to wipe water from my shirt and try to force a smile.

Me: “Yep, she just didn’t expect how hot her sample would be!”

She never came back, and I was never sued, of course.

This story is part of the Spicy roundup!

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It’s a really busy Saturday, but we’re in a slow period at the moment. Five of my staff have headsets on, including me, a new cashier, and our security guard.

Cashier: “Hey, [My Name], I have a question for you.”

Me: “Go for it.”

Cashier: “Is your refrigerator running?”

Me: *Pauses* “If you have enough time up there to be making jokes, then you’re not busy enough, and I can fix that for you.”

There’s a moment of silence as this is pondered.

Security: “Nope, we’re good. He’s got lots of stuff to do up here.”

He doesn’t release the talk button in time and I hear his last sentence.

Security: “You’re an idiot. I told you that wouldn’t work on her.”

I couldn’t stop laughing and I got a bunch of weird looks from the customers.

I get a coupon for my favorite sandwich place. Score! I head to the place and make my order, and at the end, I present the coupon.

Employee: “Sorry, ma’am, that coupon only applies to online and phone orders.”

Me: “So, I can’t order over the counter?”

Employee: “Sorry, but no. Online and phone only.”

Without moving from my spot, I got my phone and called the number for the sandwich place. Without breaking eye contact with the employee, I saw him pick up the phone on the wall and speak his greeting.

He quickly realized he was talking to me standing a few feet away as I repeated my exact same order.

He sighed and just applied the coupon.

I work in a $2 store that has pretty much everything you could ever need at relatively low prices. We also have a $5 minimum on EFTPOS transactions, meaning that customers have to pay in cash for small transactions. Most people are very understanding about this and either decide to leave the items or go and grab something else. We have a lot of little items that range from about $2 to $5 on the counter for this reason.

One day, a lady comes up to me with a foil tray, generally used for barbecues. I ring it up and the total is $4.50.

Customer: “I’ll pay on card, please.”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but we have a $5 minimum for EFTPOS. If you like, there are several—”

Customer: *Interrupting* “What? That’s ridiculous! I don’t have any cash on me! Look!”

She waves her purse in my face.

Me: “I’m really sorry, ma’am, but there’s nothing I can do as it is store policy. As I was saying, a lot of the smaller items on the counter are very cheap—”

Customer: “This is unacceptable! How can you expect everyone to carry cash on them? Get me your manager!”

The line is beginning to back up, and there are now five or six people waiting. I call my coworker to help me on the other register and grab my manager, quickly explaining the situation.

Manager: “Good morning, ma’am. How can I help you today?”

Customer: “This lady here says you have a $5 minimum on EFTPOS transactions.”

Manager: “Yes, that is correct.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t have cash, so I need to pay by card. You need to do this for me.”

Manager: “I’m really sorry, but we do have a $5 minimum on EFTPOS transactions, and there’s nothing I can do to change that. If you like, I can—”

As he’s speaking, the lady spins on her heel and walks out without a word, leaving her tray on the counter.

Me: “Well, that is one way to make an exit!”

I’m thirty years old but my mother raised me to be an old-fashioned lady; no elbows on the table, no pointing, no swearing, always use manners, etc. As a result, I never got in the habit of pointing. I always gesture with my full hand unless the item is super close.

I’m shopping for clothes for a funeral with my sister, who is thirty-four, in a large department store. A lady in her fifties or sixties approaches me and taps me on the arm. I’m very surprised because, due to the current health crisis, no one where I live gets close enough to touch strangers.

Customer: “Girl! Where are your children’s shoes?”

I start walking backward straight away until we’re six feet apart.

Me: “I don’t work here, but I think over there.”

I gesture to the children’s clothes area. The lady looks me up and down, steps halfway between us, scrunches up her face, and starts shouting.

Customer: “F****** rude! It’s rude to point! It’s rude to tell me you don’t work here! It’s rude to back away from me! I’m not infected with anything! You are! B****!”

Other customers nearby turn and start to stare. I’m shocked and embarrassed but anger quickly takes over. I back up a few feet and raise my voice, pointing at her with my index finger.

Me: “Get away from me right now! We are shopping for a funeral and have been isolating together to be able to attend. I’m not risking my family’s safety for some crazy old b****!”

The woman’s face turns red as some of the store’s employees start to approach to deescalate the situation. She looks from them to me before throwing her items on the floor and stomping off.

My sister, who has been silent this whole time, turns to me, half-laughing.

Sister: *With a sing-song voice* “Ooh, Mom’s going to kill you when I tell her about this!”