There has been a lot of panic buying taking place across all food shops. As a result, all major retailers have bought in rationing, meaning customers can only buy a certain number of each item to try and make sure everyone can get their items. An angry-looking man comes to my till. He has a bag from our competitor, who is on the opposite side of the road to us, and he is only buying one loaf of bread from us.

Customer: “I can’t believe this. [Competitor] would only let me buy two loaves of bread! Only two! I want three! So I had to come here to buy a third! Absolutely ridiculous!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that, but we’ve all had to bring in limits due to all the panic buyers, and—”

Customer: *Interrupting* “Well, why don’t they do anything about them, then? Huh?”

The customer pays and storms out.

Next Customer: *To me* “But they have… by introducing the ration limits.”

Me: “Tell me about it.”

I have been a handyman for many years, doing really complex construction that does not require permits in our area. A neighbor calls me and asks if I would do some work for his church. I say I will consider it and agree to meet him at his church.

First, the pastor of the church knew nothing about this and reluctantly agrees to consider the project. My neighbor gives me a list of things he wants done, saying that this will be his donation to the church instead of money. I proceed to figure up the time, materials, and travel for the job and give him an estimated price.

Me: “Okay, I roughly figure the price to be [amount].”

Neighbor: “Okay, that’s fine; it will be my donation.”

Me: “I will need about half the money up front.”

This is my usual business practice, especially for those for whom I have not worked before.

Neighbor: “No, you don’t understand; this is my donation.”

Me: “That’s fine, but you are entering a contract with me, and I will be charging you [amount], which will be your donation.”

Neighbor: “No, obviously, you don’t understand what a donation is. I’m getting you to do this work for my donation to my church.”

Me: “Let me get this straight; you want me to purchase all the material, make multiple trips here, put in hours of work, and that will be your donation, and I get nothing for it?”

Neighbor: “Now you get it, exactly! What’s so hard to understand? This is my donation.”

Me: “It might be your donation, but it is not mine. No way will I do this.”

Neighbor: “But this is my donation! God won’t be pleased with you.”

For some reason, I decided against this job.

This story was featured in our May 2020 roundup!

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I work at a small garage and gas station that has a retro look and feel to it, right down to the old analog gas pumps. One day, a man in a large SUV comes in and prepays $40. After pumping his gas, he comes into the store.

Customer: “You guys are robbing me! You have these pumps rigged to rip me off!”

Me: “I assure you that’s not the case, sir. What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “My gas gauge says I only have a half a tank! I’m going to call the cops!”

Me: “You can feel free, if you’d like. An inspector from the state of Connecticut was here just last week and gave our pumps a clean bill of health. They have very strict guidelines and deemed our pumps accurate, as you can see on the dated sticker on the pump.”

Customer: “I don’t believe a stupid sticker! You went in the pump and rigged it!”

Me: “Sir, how much gas did you have before pumping?”

Customer: “It was almost empty, why?”

Me: “Well, sir, you have a 22-gallon gas tank. You bought $40 of gas at $4 a gallon. As the pump indicates, you have bought ten gallons, or roughly half a tank.”

Customer: “That’s it. I’m calling the cops!”

He did. They showed up, heard the story, laughed in his face, and left immediately. The man stood around making a couple more phone calls, glaring at me the whole time, then, looking defeated, got back in his SUV, and sped off, squealing the tires as he pulled out.

Something like 60% of all women are wearing the wrong size bra, so we offer bra fittings to all of our customers. I’ve just measured a woman who insists that she’s a 36C; it turns out she’s a 36DD. She comes out of the fitting room.

Me: “So, what do you think?”

Customer: “I loved it! It fit so much better, and it looked amazing on. Thank you so much.”

After raving about how much she loves the bra, she sets it on the counter and starts to leave.

Me: “Did you not want to purchase it? It is on sale right now.”

Customer: “Oh, no, dear. I’m going to go to [Competitor]. I wear a 36C there.”

A customer comes into our store and starts looking at our weed trimmer line.

Coworker: “Can I help you, sir?”

Customer: “Yeah, I’m looking for the trimmer refills with the button that you hit against the ground to release more line.”

This is the actual trimmer head, which is refilled with regular trimmer line when it runs out.

Coworker: “Oh, then you just need some trimmer line to rewind the trimmer head.”

Customer: “No, this is the refill for the trimmer. It’s already wound and you just insert it into the trimmer head. Then you hit the bottom of the refill on the ground to feed the line.”

Coworker: “The part that you hit on the ground is part of the trimmer head. To refill it, you need to cut a section of the trimmer line and rewind it around the trimmer head.”

Customer: “No, no. This refill feeds itself when you hit it against the ground.”

Coworker: “That is part of the trimmer head mechanism. I can show you how to rewind it so that it feeds correctly when you tap it on the ground.”

The customer pauses for a bit, thinking.

Customer: “Okay, well, I guess I’ll just keep looking for the refill if you guys don’t have it. Thanks anyway.”

Coworker: “Okay… Bye.”