(I put a lot of newly built bikes up on the racks. A customer comes in wanting to look at one of the new bikes.)

Customer: “Can you pull that bike down? My son would like to try it.”

Me: *pulls bike down* “Here you go.”

(The customer’s son then rides the bike around the bike section for a minute and is pleased with it.)

Customer: “How much is this bike?”

Me: “It’s $79.99 in a box, or $89.99 assembled.”

Customer: “Why is it more when it’s already together?”

Me: “Well we have bike builders who put the bikes together. But we do have this bike in a box, so you can buy it in a box and then put it together.”

Customer: “I think I should get a discount on this bike since it’s all dirty.”

(The customer is talking about the tires since the bike has been ridden on the store floor, which has some dust on it.)

Me: “Your child was the first person to ride this bike since it was built; we can wipe off the tires so that the dirt is off.”

Customer: “No, it’s been used; look at it! I shouldn’t have to pay full price for a used item.”

Me: “The bike builders just built this exact bike not too long ago, and I know for a fact that your son is the only one to ride this bike.”

Customer: “So, you admit that it was used!”

Me: “Only by your child.”

Customer: “That’s why I should get a discount; it’s used! I want to see your manager!”

(I call my manager who comes back to listen to the issue. My manager backs me up. The customer does eventually buy the bike, already put together, paying the additional $10.)

(My nine-year-old son and I have just had an incredible exchange with a very nice cashier, who spent the time and energy to let my son review the process of buying something with his own money, and counting change.)

Cashier: “You should stay in school and go to college.”

Son: “I don’t know…”

Me: “He told me he doesn’t want to move away from home.”

Cashier: “When I was growing up in the Caribbean, I couldn’t wait to move out of my mother’s house. Now I wish—”

Son: “Wait, you are from the Caribbean? Like the Pirates of the Caribbean? Are you a pirate?”

Cashier: “No, I’m not, but I went to college and—”

Son: “And you learned to be a pirate?”

Cashier: “No, but the movie was filmed in my country.”

Son: “Did you meet any pirates?”

(Our store has a name that could easily be that of an adult establishment. I happened to be in the back room when a customer calls.)

Me: “[Store Name], how may I help you?”

Caller: “Yeah, do you have any male toys?”

Me: “‘Mail’ as in toys that go in the mail, or toys for boys?”

Caller: “Toys that go in the mail.”

Me: “Well, we have a toy that can be sent like a postcard, otherwise—”

Caller: “No, not toys that go in the M-A-I-L, toys that go in the M-A-L-E!”

Me: “Uh… we sell children’s toys.”

Caller: “Oh, oh darn! We’re looking for adult toys!”

(The customer yells to someone not on the line.)

Caller: “Hey Billy, they don’t have ’em!”

Me: “Good luck in your search!”

(I am very glad it was me who answered, and not my younger, more innocent coworker!)

(A couple in their twenties and their three young children come into the store. The kids quickly start playing at a table we’ve set up and seem content to stay there quietly while their parents look around. Our store encourages its employees to play with small toys while we work to promote their sale; I’ve got a yo-yo.)

Husband: “Oh, sweetie, look at this! Can I get this?”

Wife: “No! I’m not getting you Hobbit LEGO for your 27th birthday!”

Husband: “Aw, but sweetie—”

Wife: “No!”

Husband: *spots something else* “Oh, honey—”

Wife: “No!”

Husband: *spots my yo-yo* “Yo-yos! Where are the yo-yos?”

(I show him, and he gets giddy with excitement as he sees some of the trick yo-yos we have for sale. He grabs one and hurries to his wife.)

Husband: “Honey, look, yo-yos! Can I—”

Wife: “No! Honestly, you’re worse than the kids!”

(A male customer buys nothing but a water and is checking out with me.)

Me: “Have a nice day!” *big smile*

Customer: “You too!”

(The customer leaves with no issue and is gone for perhaps a minute before he comes storming back in the exit door.)

Customer: “Did you charge me 5 cents for this water?” *waving receipt in the air*

Me: “The water itself is two dollars and then we have the deposit fee.”

(There is a 5-cent deposit on all beverages in my state. Period. You get it back when and if you recycle it at a machine that gives vouchers. It has been this way for as long as I can remember in my 22 years.)

Customer: “So you charged me 5 cents?!”

Me: “It’s not an extra five cents, Sir, there’s just a deposit.”

Customer: “I want my 5 cents back!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, it’s a state law. All beverages have a 5 cent deposit.”

Customer: “You can’t do that! It’s not displayed. I want my 5 cents back!”

Me: “Sir, I can’t give you a nickel, I’d be a nickel short in my till.”

Customer: “You need to give me my 5 cents back! It isn’t on a sign! You have to have a sign about it!”

Me: *shocked pause* “Let me call my manager… one second.”

(A new manager approaches and asks what the problem is. As the customer is obviously irate, he takes him back to his office to talk, something you really aren’t meant to do. When their meeting is finished, the customer storms out of the office.)

Manager: “I should have just given him the five cents. I think we just lost a customer.”

Me: “…I think we can survive losing that particular customer.”