I worked as a ward assistant at a teaching veterinary hospital. Some of the vet students were incredibly book-smart but had never developed any common sense. Then, there was this student.

I was refilling the treatment trolleys in the open-plan treatment area while one of the vet students was cleaning up after a procedure. One of the residents came through making clicking, whistling, and just generally encouraging noises to the very large dog she was leading. 

Student: “Why are you whistling? It’s not a horse.”

Resident: “Oh, he’s blind.”

Student: “Ahhh! He can’t hear you.”

Dealing with quantities of tourists has me baffled. I had roughly this conversation twice during my first month working in a grocery store.

Tourist: “Where on the island will I see the penguins?“

Me: “Do you mean puffins?“

Tourist: “No! There are penguins! I read about it on the Internet!“

I give them directions to the boat trip companies in a different village that’ll take them to the nesting cliffs. They won’t see penguins as it’s the wrong hemisphere, but they won’t be near me anymore.

I once had the pleasure of having this regular customer who was the most… grumpy nice person I had ever met. I know some older Scottish ladies can be eccentric, but even to this day, I can’t figure her out. At first, you’d be shocked at her attitude, but as you got used to it, you kinda… leaned into it.

A regular interaction would go like this.

Customer: *Paying at the end of a transaction* “And I suppose you’ll be wanting me to round up my total for charity or some crap like that? Who are you collecting for this week?”

Me: “It’s the same as it always is, ma’am: [Children’s Charity].”

Customer: “Ugh, fine. Add an extra twenty to the total. Might as well invest in the children in the hope they come out better than your generation with all its TikTok and what-not.”

The next time:

Customer: *Paying at the end of a transaction* “And why do you look so glum? Is it that depressing serving me?”

Me: “Oh, no! I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

Customer: “Ugh! You kids and your inability to handle these normal days at work! When do you finish?”

Me: “In half an hour.”

Customer: “And you can’t hold on for half an hour, eh? Typical. I suppose you’ll be wanting a pat on the back for surviving another day at work?”

Me: “Just a [burger meal] from across the street is usually enough to keep me going.”

After that, she took her shopping to her car, and then she went across the street and actually brought me back one of those burger meals!

Customer: “Can’t have you wasting away and complaining now! You look too thin already!”

The next time she’s paying at the end of the transaction, extra grumpy this time:

Me: “How are you doing today?”

Customer: “Terrible! Some cat just came up to me in my garden and just… sat on me! Like I was some kind of cushion! I tried to tell the bloody thing to go away, but it wouldn’t listen! Now it just… sits there, meowing, like some kind of stubborn pile of fur!”

Me: “Haha! Well, cats do have a habit of choosing people.”

Customer: “It’s terrible, I tell you! What made it worse is now I have to buy bloody cat food and a cat basket and toys and all this other crap, and would you believe how much you crooks sell it for?! Daylight robbery, I tell you!”

Me: “Oh, wow! It sounds like you’re already a cat person!”

Customer: “And don’t get me started on the vet bills! They told me how much to get it checked over and spayed, and I thought, for that much, you might as well give it a soap bath and set it up in a suite for a month with limitless tuna and a catnip carpet!”

Me: “Well, I am sure the cat appreciates all that you’re doing.”

Customer: “Who asks if I’m ready to be a cat person?! No one! Yet who got chosen?! Me! This world, honestly, I tell you…”

I always look forward to when she comes in.

She named the cat Fleabag McS**tstain, and she is always grumpily buying it the best cat food we sell.

Several years ago, I was on the tills on Boxing Day, and the queues were huge as everyone wanted to shop the post-Christmas sales. In more recent years, the store stopped processing returns and exchanges on Boxing Day, but that was after this interaction took place.

A man had queued up seemingly patiently and finally got to my till. He took a pair of men’s boots from a carrier bag and put them down more firmly than was necessary.

Customer: “My son got these boots yesterday, and the sole’s coming off!”

I politely asked him if he had the receipt, but they were a gift, so he didn’t. No big deal; if they were faulty, he could get a refund of the current selling price without a receipt.

He was obviously annoyed and proceeded to complain about the poor quality of the shoes, the time he had spent queuing, and so on, while I tried to find a label on the shoes. All the while, I was thinking that the boots didn’t look quite right to me. We sold women’s, men’s, and children’s clothes, shoes, and accessories, and I was in no way an expert on every last item we stocked, but these just didn’t match any styles I was aware of.

Eventually, I found a label tucked into the lining of one boot. It had the label from a different store in the shopping centre.

I showed it to the customer.

Me: “These are from [Other Shop].”

He looked at me. He looked at the enormous posters behind the till, which all had the shop’s name and branding on them. He grabbed the boots and shoved them back in the bag.

Customer: *Mumbling* “I thought I was in [Other Shop].”

And off he went, presumably to spend an equal amount of time queuing in the right shop. 

To be fair, [Other Shop] sold men’s and womenswear — plus shoes, obviously — was also split over two levels, and was maybe five or six shops fronts down from us. But then again, our shop name was emblazoned on every sale sign and poster…

CONTENT WARNING: Alcohol Abuse
 

I used to work at a smallish local shop in a small town. We had a lot of regulars. One we all knew had a problem with alcohol, but we never said anything; he wasn’t causing a problem and just bought a lot of wine.

One day, he came in and walked up to the counter with two bottles. He was clearly drunk and could barely stand in one spot without staggering. Naturally, at that point, we refused to serve him. When we saw him leave the shop and head to a car’s driver seat, alarm bells started ringing.

A supervisor and I headed out to intervene just as he was getting into the driver’s seat. The bumper of his car was already dented, as if he’d had a collision driving to our shop. He was, at that point, trying to start his car with a vape pen. Between us, we convinced him not to drive.

He shook my supervisor’s hand and thanked him for his care, and he explained that his wife had just left him and taken their kid. We expressed our sympathy and told him not to drive, our car park had CCTV, and we’d watch his car. He left and phoned someone to come pick him up.

He went off.

Not long after that, the police showed up asking questions about him. Someone must have called them after seeing him drive in. Anyway, we gave them the relevant information, and the car sat there for at least a week before it was moved. The police never came back.

Sometime later, we were looking at the CCTV and saw the same man collapsed drunk by our cash machine/ATM.

The company boss decided not to serve him alcohol anymore when he came in. I was the one who had to refuse him his next two bottles of wine. He took it well. He has come in since his alcohol ban for food and dog food.

I have since left the company, and I’ve seen him a few times in the local supermarket. He looked well, — and most importantly, he looked happy.

I have now moved away, and I hope he’s doing all right.