(I have recently started working at a toy store close to where I live. I haven’t been fully trained on how to do everything yet, but I have had to deal with a few stock requests, so I feel confident enough with the system to address customer queries. A man in his late forties comes up to the service desk.)

Customer: “I’m looking for [Dollhouse]. Could you tell me if you have any in stock?”

Me: “Certainly. Is it [Full Name of Dollhouse Brand]?”

(He nods.)

Me: *after double-checking I have read the number correctly* “Six hundred.”

Customer: “Six hundred?!”

Me: “That does seem quite excessive, but that is what it’s telling me.”

Customer: “Erm, well, I need six hundred… and one.”

Me: “You need exactly six hundred and one dollhouses?”

Customer: *laughing awkwardly* “Yeah, that sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?” *runs out of the store before I can say anything else*

(A manager who was processing a return bursts out laughing.)

Manager: “Never mind him. He’s a nuisance regular we put up with. He usually comes in and asks for one or two above what we have in stock and complains when we don’t give him a discount.”

Me: “Oh…”

Manager: “For future reference…” *points to my screen* “If you tap the ‘Store’ tile, it will show you the stock we currently have here, instead of the regional stock.”

(I guess I should wait until my training is finished before taking any more queries.)

Manager: “Hey, I got a complaint about you from a young lesbian couple. They said you were very rude and discriminatory.”

Me: “I remember a lesbian couple coming in, but I don’t remember anything remarkable about them. They asked me some questions about the toys, and they seemed happy enough. They paid separately and then they left.”

Manager: “They said that you checked out the first woman normally, and that’s when they said something that made you realize they were lesbians. After that, you gave them a hard time by demanding to see the other woman’s ID and you made them feel uncomfortable.”

Me: “What?! No! I did check her ID, but that’s because her credit card said, ‘Check ID,’ on the back instead of a signature!”

Manager: *laughing* “I knew something seemed off! I’ve never had a complaint about you before, and you seemed fine on camera.”

Me: “Why didn’t she just ask me why I wanted to see the ID?”

Manager: “I don’t know. I guess some people just like the drama, plus the possibility of a discount.”

(Our two kids each have a certain toy. We had bought one and Grandma subsequently bought another when we realized they both loved it. The second one broke soon afterward. We have the gift receipt, and before we left the house I checked the receipt multiple times to be sure it was the right one. We have just arrived at the mall to exchange the toy.)

Me: *checks receipt* “Okay, let’s go to [Toy Store] first and get this exchanged so we can go eat dinner.”

(We walk through the mall to the store. While I go to the customer service desk, my husband keeps the kids entertained off to the side.)

Me: *to cashier* “Hi, we’d like to exchange this toy. We have a gift receipt.”

Cashier: *looks at the receipt* “Okay, I’ll have to call the manager over to process this.”

Me: “Sure.” *looks at the receipt again while waiting*

Manager: “Hi. How can I help you?”

Me: “We’d like to exchange this toy; the touch screen doesn’t respond to touch.”

Manager: “Sure thing. Let me see that receipt.”

(I hand over the toy and receipt.)

Manager: “Uh, ma’am? This toy has a receipt from [bookstore].”

Me: “What, really?” *turns to husband* “Hey, we brought in the wrong receipt!”

Husband: “What? How is that possible?”

(At this point, I still haven’t connected the dots and am somehow convinced that I can exchange this toy at this store.)

Me: *to manager* “So, do I need to find the receipt for the protection plan to exchange this?”

Manager: “No, the receipt is from [Bookstore]. You’ll have to take it there, instead.”

Me: *lightbulb, starts laughing uncontrollably*

Me: “Oh, my God! I can’t believe it; I just tried to return a toy to a store it wasn’t bought at. I’m that kind of customer! Ha!” *to manager* “Thanks! And sorry!!”

Manager: *grins* “It’s okay. At least [Bookstore] is also in the mall; you won’t have to go too much farther to exchange the toy!”

(The manager hands back the toy and receipt, and we exit the store. I’m still laughing and muttering to myself and the racket is attracting the attention of other mall patrons.) 

Husband: “Oh, my God, how embarrassing! People are staring at you! How on Earth did you mess that up, anyway? You looked at that receipt like a hundred times!”

Me: “I guess I just really wanted to believe that the toy came from that store! Now let’s go eat dinner, before we all get cranky!”

(We had bought the first toy at that toy store, and Grandma had bought the second one elsewhere. Despite having been told this at the time the gift was given, my brain refused to accept that the same toy could be bought at two different stores.)

(A nervous-looking 30-something comes up to the till.)

Me: “Afternoon, can I help you with anything?”

Nervous Guy: “Um… I’m looking for some toys.”

Me: *laughing* “Well, we are a toy shop!”

Nervous Guy: “Yeah, I’m looking for toys for… grownups.”

Me: “There’s no age restriction for toys here. I’ll show you around and see what we can find.”

(I take the customer around the shop, asking about what he needs and whether its for a friend or child, but all he comes out with is “grownup toys” and is getting more frustrated by the second.)

Nervous Guy: “No! I need grownup toys!”

(The shop is starting to fill up with families and they notice his behaviour.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but if you can’t tell me specifically what you are looking for, then I can’t help you.”

Nervous Guy: “Grownup toys! You know! Vibrators! Things that go buzz!”

(He starts to make a buzzing noise, and I’m really trying hard not to laugh. The parents aren’t so reserved and burst out laughing, causing the guy to turn bright red.)

Me: “Sir, do you know what kind of shop you are in?”

Nervous Guy: “Yes.”

Me: “A toy shop… A children’s toy shop…”

Nervous Guy: *looks like he is going to explode* “YES, I KNOW!”

Me: “And you think that we would stock adult toys?”

Nervous Guy: “You don’t, do you?”

Me: “Nope. Might I suggest [Well-Known Adult Store] a few towns over? I hear they stock a wide selection of adult toys, marital aids, and lingerie that might suit your needs?”

Nervous Guy: *turns ten shades of red and mumbles* “Ah… Yes. Thank you.”

(I have never seen one person bolt so fast from my shop, ever! It took me hours to get over it and some of our regulars still ask about the “grownup” man.)

(At the toy store where I work, we have a giant Jenga game — about three feet tall — set up for customers to play with. This is an outdoor game, designed to be played on grass. We have it set up on a hard plastic table over a tile floor in an area with excellent acoustics; when it collapses, the noise is cataclysmic. We also have a door chime which is high-pitched and kind of annoying. One day, I’m checking out a customer when the door chime goes off several times in rapid succession.)

Customer: “Gah, that noise is so annoying!”

Me: *sigh* “Tell me about it.”

Customer: “Yeah, I guess it must be worse for you, right? Does it follow you home? Like, does that noise haunt you at night?”

(As if on cue, the Jenga tower collapses with a migraine-inducing cacophony. The customer ducks as if he’s being shot at and then looks up at me with wide, frightened eyes.)

Me: “No, that’s the noise that follows me home at night.”

(He gave a shaky laugh and left, giving the display table a wide berth. We had to put up with the noise for another month before management agreed to display something quieter.)