(I am supervising the service desk one day, and I have a cashier working in the “12 items or less” lane. Occasionally, if the express lane is empty, we’ll bend this rule to reduce the length of the queues at other registers, but at this point in time we are very busy and the cashier has quite a line at his checkout. Suddenly a lady storms up to me.)

Customer: “I would like to make a complaint about that man working in the express lane.”

(I am surprised, because that cashier is probably the softest-spoken person I’ve ever met, and has gotten a lot of positive feedback from customers. His checkout is also adjacent to where I am working, well within earshot, and I haven’t heard any fuss or raised voices.)

Me: “I’m very sorry to hear that. What happened?”

Customer: “He very rudely told me it was ‘12 items or less.’ I had fifteen items! He was so rude; that’s ruined my entire day!”

(She huffs, then leaves.)

Me: *baffled* “Okay?”

(I work at a small shop, so most of our customers are regulars who we know by their names, and vice versa. This customer is the kind you don’t know if you should love or hate. My boss is at the checkout and calls me over.)

Boss: “[My Name], show [Customer] where the [item] is!”

Me: “Okay!” *to customer* “Just follow me.”

Customer: “All right, I’m following you.” *as we are out of earshot* “And if it comes to extramarital sex you have to scream!”

(I thought it was hilarious!)

(A woman comes in with a very popular brand of figurines, which is sold at least four stores in our mall.)

Customer: “I was wondering if I could exchange this. My son got two for his birthday. I don’t have a receipt or even know if they bought it here.”

Me: “Unfortunately, we do require a receipt for exchanges.”

Customer: *sounding genuinely surprised* “Really?”

(On the way out she told her son they would go try another store… one that happens to have a big closing, and “final sale” signs everywhere.)

(This happened when I was newly eighteen and working as a cashier at a popular retail chain. I’m only five feet tall and look very young for my age, but most people, even if they joke about my baby face, are aware that I’m older than I look. In this instance, an elderly couple comes through my line and are very quiet and make no conversation other than what is necessary. A few minutes after they’ve left, my floor manager comes up to me.)

Manager: “You are not going to believe what just happened. This old couple came up to me all angry and threatening to call child services over you. They thought you were, like, eleven!”

(I was an assistant manager for a popular discount store a few years back. Our store is relatively small compared to the others around the city, so most of the time, it’s only one manager with, at most, two cashiers in the store. We sell gift bags for almost all occasions and we carry a lot at a time with only maybe twenty feet for the whole display, so many bags would get mixed together and become a mess. There are many times where I have to redo the display a few times a day, especially during big holidays like Christmas or Easter. One day, I am making my rounds in the store and notice there are gift bags thrown everywhere, for the second time that day. I don’t know why, but for some reason, this day is popular to buy gift bags. For me, it’s easier to remove everything and start from scratch, so that’s what I do. I take down all the bags that are mixed up, put them in a small pile, kneel down, and get to work.)

Me: *sorting through gift bags*

Customer: *comes up, picks a bag off the display, looks it over, then throws it in my pile*

Me: *already frustrated at having to, yet again, redo the display that day* “Ma’am, that gift bag doesn’t belong there.”

Customer: *turns to me* “Well, yeah, but I’m not putting it back. That’s your job. What, are you too f****** lazy to do it yourself? Do you not have anything else to do?”

Me: *sighs and stands up* “Ma’am, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is the second time I’m doing this display in three hours. I have two cashiers that are still fairly new to the job, and I am the only manager on duty as of the moment. My to-do list is pretty packed.”

Customer: “Yeah, well, it’s called f****** job security.”

Me: “No, it’s called being a decent human being and picking up a mess that you created.”

Customer: *becoming red* “You can’t talk to me that way! I’m the customer! I’m the reason you still have this job!”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “Ma’am, this is a nationwide, popular store that sells everything for [price]. I’m sure the company won’t lose business over one item not being bought, to which I mean your gift bag that you had.”

Customer: *still red, aggressively picks up the gift bag and returns it to to the display* “I’m telling your supervisor about this!”

Me: “Sure thing. My store manager is in tomorrow from ten to six. You can call the store then.”

Customer: *walks away* “You bet your a** I will!”

(The customer never called the store the next day. Whenever I told my store manager about the incident, she just laughed about it.)