One of our popcorn machines catches fire due to some wiring problems. We put it out pretty quickly with a fire extinguisher and bring it outside. I am tasked with cleaning out the popcorn and extinguisher before we store it somewhere.

A man comes up to me as I’m cleaning the popper and points at the popcorn in the trash which is covered in extinguisher chemicals.

Customer: “This popcorn any good?”

Me: *Laughs* “It’s in the trash, sir.”

Customer: “Mind if I take a handful?”

Me: *Laughs again* “Very fun—”

Before I even finish my sentence he grabs a big handful from the trash can and walks away.

Me: “Sir, that has chemicals on it!”

He keeps walking.

Me: “Sir, it’s not safe to eat!”

He still continued. I immediately called my manager on the walkie to tell him what. The manager and security met him in the parking lot and asked if he’d eaten the popcorn. He refused to say he did, probably for fear of getting in trouble, but his mouth was covered in it. I hope the treat was worth it.

My bookstore has a waist-high wooden counter to hold the registers up, and in the front of it, little cubby holes for various impulse buys. There are panes of glass over that so, should a customer look straight down, they can see those little $5-or-less baubles and maybe make a last-second addition.

I loathe those panes of glass. They are impossible to keep clean. In an hour, the things will have accrued coffee rings, greasy fingerprints, and various other little germy smudges. We have to put in a lot of effort to keep these clean lest the next customer gets coffee on their nice, clean, brand-new books.

Enter a mom and her kid.

The kid is initially standing patiently and quietly by Mommy’s side. But he is JUST tall enough that his lips can wrap around the beveled edges of the glass and suck on it like a pacifier. Maybe the texture or shape is appealing to his mouth… or maybe Mommy should have weaned him a bit earlier than the tender age of ten.

Me: “Oh, sweetie, please don’t put your mouth on that. We clean it with Windex and Clorox. You don’t want to swallow that stuff. It’ll make you sick to your tummy.”

The child stares me straight in the eyes and continues to suck on that tasty, tasty glass pacifier provided especially for him. Mommy is chattering obliviously on her phone, still trying to pile more books in front of me, but she seems to be unaware that I am not ringing AND that I am talking to her son.

Me: “Kiddo, please don’t suck on that!”

I shoo him backward, but the kid is clearly determined. He backs up two steps, and as soon as I ring the first book, he comes right back and latches onto that thing like a nursing baby. 

I stop the transaction in its tracks, move the books, and wipe off the glass with the dripping Clorox wipe that’s wafting enough chemical fumes to make my eyes burn. The smell makes him beat a hasty three-foot retreat from the counter.

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but this glass isn’t sanitary. I can’t, in good conscience, let your child put his mouth on this any longer.”

The woman stops her conversation as her eyes start to burn from the cloud of Clorox fumes. 

Mom: “Do you have to do that now?!”

Me: *Bluntly* “Yes. For the third time, this glass is covered in chemicals, and your child was putting his mouth on it. I now have to clean the glass again because he slobbered on it.”

She wags a finger in a limp-handed way.

Mom: “[Child]! Don’t put your mouth on things!”

I made the glass surface gleam wetly with a thick layer of corrosive liquid. Then, I paper toweled it dry, of course; after all, there was a line, and we could not wait for the glass to dry on its own. Now, we had a cloud of Clorox fumes at the registers.

Worth it, in my opinion, as this was finally enough. I wonder if those “no chew” sprays for puppies would work on a kid.

Related:
Of Chemically Unsound Mind

A lady in her late fifties or early sixties comes in. She uses the bathroom and then leaves. Her daughter approaches me. She’s probably almost twenty.

Daughter: “My mom just went to the bathroom. I’m so sorry.”

She left with her mother. Concerned, I walked into the bathroom. The toilet — the entire toilet — including the surrounding walls and floor, was covered in poop.

My store does not have a bathroom janitor or someone who can be on bathroom duty, so I was forced to clean it up. It took my two other coworkers and me to clean it up. We definitely don’t get paid enough for that.

Related:
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 22
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 21
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 20
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 19
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 18

I work at a grocery store and am dispatched to clean up some s*** in an aisle after a kid had an accident.

An older lady approaches me with a smile.

Customer: “Aww. Did someone bring their dog in the store?”

Me: “No, they brought in a child.”

She then slowly backed away and gave me a look of disgust.

Related:
Aisle Be Watching The Kids, Part 2
Aisle Be Watching The Kids

I work in a library. I’m going through our craft supplies to find items I need to make a fall craft. However, when I pull one box off of the shelf, I notice MAGGOTS inside the box. I throw it in the trash and notice they’ve spread to the shelf, too. I’m working with [Coworker #1], who is known to be very squeamish and hates bugs, and [Coworker #2], who has a very strong stomach.

I approach [Coworker #2] and whisper to her.

Me: “I found maggots in the craft supplies. Can you help me clean it up and find out where they came from?”

Coworker #1: “What’re you whispering about?”

Me: “You don’t want to know.”

[Coworker #2] and I return to our supply room. We determine that the maggots were inside a bag of acorns and make sure to seal that off. We then take everything out, clean it down, and disinfect everything.

When we return:

Coworker #1: *To [Coworker #2]* “What’s going on?”

Coworker #2: “Really, you do not want to know.”

We’re both very polite but adamant about it. However, [Coworker #1] won’t drop the issue. She keeps asking what we found. Finally, [Coworker #2] gives in and whispers to her:

Coworker #2: “Maggots.”

[Coworker #1] starts screeching.

Coworker #1: “Maggots! Gross! I hate maggots! That’s disgusting! I wish you hadn’t told me!” 

She was loud, but she didn’t go on any longer than that.

Two days later, we all got called into my boss’s office. Apparently, one patron had overheard the outburst and complained. And that’s how three librarians got in trouble for making too much noise in the library.