(I have gotten sick. It was suspected to be a brain tumor, but it later turns out to be an inner ear infection. My mother and I are at a store; she’s standing in line and I’m standing back looking at a display.)

Mother: “We should move up ahead in the line!”

Cashier: “We can’t do that, unfortunately.”

Mother: “My daughter has a brain tumor! You’re discriminating!”

Cashier: “I’m sorry. It’s first come, first served.”

Me: *comes up behind her and steps on her foot*

Mother: “But she— OW!”

Me: “It’s a friggin’ inner ear infection, not brain cancer. Quit lying to do that.”

Other People: *staring*

Cashier: “Thank you!”

(I’m visiting a family-run petting zoo and farm shop. The animals here are for show only; none are for sale and can only be accessed when out for petting demos. We’re checking out with some jars of honey at the farm shop when we hear a big commotion in the petting area. A shouting man holding a chick runs out, followed by a crying child and a frantic farm worker.)

Man: “We just want a g**d*** chicken! Piss off and leave us alone!”

Farm Worker: “Please, stop! You’re hurting him! Put him down!”

(The cashier abandons our order and tries to block the exit as the man runs through, leaving his crying child in the shop area. Both employees run out after him; there’s shouting and pleading from outside. Then, there is the sound of doors slamming and a car speeding out of the car park. I walk over with my daughter and try and console the crying child who’s asking for his mum. After a few tense minutes, the employees come back with the chick, but no man. The farm worker takes the chick to be looked at, leaving us with the now-calm child.)

Cashier: “Uh, he just left? What do we do now?”

Me: “Do you know your Mummy’s phone number, sweetheart?”

Child: “Y-Yes, it’s [phone number], but D-Daddy said I can’t call her; she’s too busy for me.”

Cashier: “I’ll make the call. Can you stay with him?”

Me: “Sure. Come on, sweetheart. Shall we look at the picture books?”

(Within fifteen minutes, a frantic mum ran in and grabbed the child into a massive hug. Apparently, this was the dad’s first court-issued independent visit with the child since being released from prison, and she’d been worried sick the entire time he’d had him: only an hour and a half total. We all handed a written report to the police, and we were assured by them and the mum that it would be the last time the guy saw the child alone, if at all!)

(I work at a chain charity secondhand store. The store has been undergoing many changes, primarily because we are under new corporate management. This has included adjustments in the prices of many things, particularly clothing.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, your total is $36 even.”

Customer: “Wait, why is it so cheap? I bought ten shirts.”

Me: “Our T-shirt prices have dropped to $1.99 in the last two weeks.”

(We had two prices originally; T-shirts that were blank were priced at a lower price than those with writing or designs on them.) 

Customer: “But they are not basic T-shirts; they have writing on them.”

Me: “Yes, the basic T-shirt price now applies to any t-shirt.”

Customer: “Are you f****** kidding me?! Two months ago I got a shirt out of the basic section but you charged me $4 for it because it had writing and glitter on it. You said it wasn’t a basic but now it is! You overcharged me! If I had known the prices were going to change I would have never shopped here earlier! You people need to let the customers know it is going to change!”

Me: “I’m sorry. The changes are very recent; we have posted about the changes in the front of the store and in the sections of clothing. I hope, however, that the prices now are more reasonable.”

Customer: “I spent so much money that day. This is insane! You guys are unbelievable! I told everyone I know not to shop here and to go to [Other Competing Charity Store].”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, can I do anything for you?”

Customer: “Let me talk to your manager.”

(After I get the manager, he explains that the price change is recent and was a decision from corporate. He apologizes and tells her we are grateful for her business and for her helping our store’s mission, then listens to the customer complain and call him several racist names. When he walks away, the customer is still enraged.) 

Customer: “He is a jacka** and so are you. I’m never coming back. This store is all a bunch of greedy f***s.”

(90% of our retail profit goes to help our community – primarily those on disability and parolees.)

(A woman enters the shop and proceeds to browse whilst talking nonstop, and at great length, about whatever enters her head for about forty minutes.)

Woman: “Gosh, it’s so hot in here!”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry about that. We don’t actually have the heating on, or I would turn it down.”

Woman: “It’s all these lights! Look at all these light bulbs. It’s ridiculous! Why don’t they just make light bulbs that don’t give off any heat?”

Me: “Physics?”

Customer: “Is that the best price you can do?”

Me: “Sure is!”

Customer: “But what if I find it cheaper in another shop?”

Me: “Well, that’s the beauty of a free market, isn’t it?”