I work in a store that only has card self-checkouts. Cash can be paid, but only when you ask us to help; the counter is usually closed. We’re planning on changing to cash-and-card self-checkouts in a month.

My main job is to watch customers pay the money (because we don’t have those scanners that beep when customers shoplift), help customers who have issues with the self-checkout machines, and clean and maintain our own areas in the store.

There was a customer, an old lady, with at least fifty items with her.

Me: “Do you need any help, ma’am?”

Instead of replying, she went on a rant about how annoying the machines were and how the staff weren’t needed anymore because self-checkout machines were taking over. She also told me to “go away” before she began to scan her own items. I just thought she was rude and annoying, so I left.

While she was busy scanning her items, I noticed something.

Me: “Ma’am, this item has a promotion right now: two for the usual price of one.”

Guess what I got in response? Another rant about how she didn’t need help from the staff, she could handle it herself because she was capable enough to use the self-checkout, and the self-checkout was smarter than us — that kind of rubbish.

I shrugged and left again, but my supervisor saw this and asked what had happened. I explained the situation, and she told me to ignore the customer if she faced any issues with the promotion.

And my sweet Karma came when the machine decided not to let the customer pay. Basically, the self-checkouts are incredibly sensitive. If you have a promotion that’s two for the price of one, the machine will not let you proceed to checkout unless you have two of the same item.

It would have worked fine if she had decided to just get the other item, but she was adamant about removing it, which is something only the staff can do because of a barcode that only we have behind our name tags. So, she had to ask the staff for help just to remove the item, and I just ignored her as I watched her struggle with the machine.

My coworker who helped her was really mad when I told her this story because she would have made the customer wait longer just to teach her a lesson about respect.

Related:
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 7
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 6
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 5
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 4
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 3

Way back before DVDs were a thing, I was an assistant manager at a video store. We had three regular customers who were always late with their returns. Two we didn’t mind too much since they paid their fees without a fuss and were genuinely great people to deal with. Everyone knew them, to the point that we’d put aside copies of high-demand new releases for them. The manager would sometimes waive the fees or give them free rental coupons, just because they were friendly and polite.

Then, there was our would-be owner. Everyone knew her, too. I call her “our would-be owner” because every time she had a fee (and she always had a fee), she would insist that her husband was rich, and if we wouldn’t waive the fee, then she’d have him buy our store and fire us all. Seriously, I thought that was just a Hollywood joke until I met her. Strangely enough, the fee was never waived, and our store was never bought out. 

The kicker was the time one of her kids came in alone to rent a movie. That was unusual but not unheard of; parents would sometimes send their kids in while they were in one of the other shops. Of course, there was a late fee outstanding. I informed the kiddo that the fee had to be paid before we could rent anything else to him. Fortunately, the $20 he had covered it, and he happily left with his movie.

Two minutes later, our would-be owner came storming in, demanding that we return her money and appalled that we would “rob a child” by making him pay the late fee! It turned out she’d given him the cash and sent him in alone on purpose, believing that we would waive the fees because he was young.

I work at a tiny kiosk that sells convenience items like snacks, magazines, drinks, etc. We’re located next to a bus stop that gets us a decent amount of traffic.

For the last few weeks, at specific times throughout the week, I have noticed two women at the bus stop at the same time. They’re a little older, wearing very nice coats and large puffy hats, even though it’s a little warm.

Since in my part of the US, buses are unreliable and irregular, they can sometimes be sat there for over half an hour, so I decide to strike up a conversation with them.

Me: “Wow, ladies, I just wanted to say that I love how you rock those fabulous hats! I’ve seen you here for a few weeks now, and every week it’s so impressive.”

They both smile at me and thank me for my kind words. They both start talking among themselves, keeping me included.

Old Lady #1: “I’m lucky my husband bought me such nice hats on our travels. You see, I take this bus each week to go to the hospital because…”

She takes off her hat to reveal a bald head.

Old Lady #1: “…I’m doing the chemo. I’m a bit self-conscious.”

Old Lady #2: *Eyes go wide* “Oh, my God!”

She takes off her hat, also revealing a bald head.

Old Lady #2: “Me, too! Are you with Dr. [Name]?”

Old Lady #1: “Yes! I am! How have I not seen you before?”

Old Lady #2: “I usually try to keep my head down when I go in. Some weeks I feel really terrible and I don’t really pay attention to my surroundings.”

Old Lady #1: “Yes, it’s the same with me!”

They carry on like this, comparing “chemo notes” and chatting away, so intently involved in their conversation that I have to shout to them that their bus has arrived.

The next week, they’re both back, except they’ve arrived together and their conversation sounds like it hasn’t stopped since the previous week. They’re making in-jokes, talking about their late husbands, their children and grandchildren, etc. Finally, they remember I am there!

Old Lady #1: “Oh, goodness! What’s your name, dear?”

Me: “Oh, it’s Mary.”

Old Lady #2: “Mary! Thank you for complimenting our hats! If you hadn’t said anything, we wouldn’t have made friends like we have!”

Old Lady #1: “It makes so much difference having someone to go through this with together.”

Me: “I’m so happy to hear that! I’m so sorry that you’re both going through what you’re going through. If there’s anything I can do for you, please do let me know.”

Every week they’re back, and every week they’re happily discussing all manner of subjects under the sun, keeping me included. Some weeks seem harder than others (chemo takes its toll on you), but they both always seem to have energy for each other.

One week, I don’t see either of them. The next week is the same, and I eventually start to fear the worst.

After a couple of months, I see a car pull up, driven by a young man. Two old ladies get out of the back of the car and run over to me, full of smiles and energy, and showing hair!

Old Lady #1: “We wanted to come by and let you know we’re both okay!

Old Lady #2: “And we’re both off the chemo!”

Old Lady #1: “Our doctor said we both showed remarkable improvement when we started to talk to each other!”

Old Lady #2: “Those were his exact words! ‘Remarkable improvement.'”

Old Lady #1: “We both went to each other’s appointment together! You should have seen the look on his face!”

Old Lady #2: “They say a positive mindset can be a powerful healer! I’m not sure if that’s true, but it feels like it was with us!”

Old Lady #1: “We’re both in remission! Together! We wanted to thank you!”

Me: “Thank me? But I didn’t do anything!”

Old Lady #1: “Have you not been paying attention? You introduced us to each other!”

Old Lady #2: “You saved our lives!”

Old Lady #1: “We wanted to let you know! We may not need to use the bus anymore, but we’ll never forget you! We beat cancer and got a new best friend because of you!”

And with that, they both hand over a gift. It’s a new and beautiful hat, very similar to the one that [Old Lady #1] was wearing that day I started up a conversation.

Old Lady #1: “Remember us every time you wear that hat!”

They drove off, as happy and as talkative as I have ever seen them, with a smile beaming from my face.

Every time I am having a bad day, I look at my lovely hat and remember what came out from just a simple compliment while working at a kiosk one day, and it never fails to lift me back up again.

Our manager is a retail veteran, takes no crap from anybody, and is basically un-fireable by corporate because she’s the only one who knows how to run our store. She is bulletproof, and she knows it.

Customer: “You don’t have any truffle cheese on display.”

Manager: “That’s right. We won’t have any more until Friday.”

Customer: “Well, that’s very inconvenient.”

Manager: “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Customer: “That’s it?”

Manager: “I can only apologize.”

Customer: “You’re not going to compensate me?”

Manager: “You’ve done nothing deserving of compensation.”

Customer: “I beg your pardon?!”

Manager: “Then beg.”

Customer: “I beg your pardon?!“

Manager: “That’s still not begging. Truffle cheese will arrive on Friday. Have a nice day!” 

Watching her work was… inspirational.

A few months ago, my store had a rainbow-themed line of items. Though we did get some negative feedback, a majority of our customers liked that we had the products.

Except Grumpy.

Grumpy is a man in his sixties who often comes in just to hold some poor employee hostage and rant at them until they offer him a gift card for his issues. Today, he has picked me.

Grumpy: “Hey! What’s with all the gay stuff?” 

Me: “Gay stuff?”

Grumpy: “That!” 

He points to some of the rainbow-themed products.

Me: “What about it?” 

Grumpy: “It’s gay!”

I know what he’s up to, and usually, I don’t have the time for him, but today I decide to make the time.

Me: “What’s gay?”

Grumpy: “That!” 

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Grumpy: “The rainbow!”

Me: “Rainbows are gay? 

Grumpy: “No! They are from God!“ 

Me: “I still don’t understand. You don’t like rainbows?”

Grumpy: *Louder* “No! The rainbow is a sign from God, and you and your [homophobic slur] friends took it!” 

Me: “I don’t understand, sir. You’re mad about the — as you put it — ‘gay stuff’, and then you said it was about the rainbows, which you also said were from God. I’m not following. Do you dislike the rainbow-themed products or not?”

Grumpy: “You’re being obtuse!” 

Me: “I’m just trying to understand what the issue actually is.”

Grumpy: “You idiot!” 

He left. That was the first time he did not get a gift card for his tantrum!