I’ve worked a lot of retail jobs and therefore have had a lot of last days where I could have potentially gotten away with saying something to a deserving customer that I normally would have held back because ‘customer service.’ Sadly, every last day I have had hasn’t presented that opportunity to me… until now. 

I’m folding shirts near the fitting rooms on my last day at the clothing shop when a man comes out wearing a dress shirt from our rack, clearly annoyed.

Customer: “This says ‘slim fit,’ but it’s tight through the chest.”

Me: “Slim fit tends to taper more through the torso. We’ve got a regular fit version of that same style if you’d like to compare.”

Customer: “No, the label’s wrong. This is mislabelled. I’ve worn a large for twenty years.”

Me: “Yes, sir, but sizing can vary a bit depending on brand and cut.”

Customer: “No, I know my size. Shirts don’t just stop fitting.”

Me: “Actually, they can, especially if the brand updated their sizing chart.”

Customer: “Or maybe your company just doesn’t know how to make clothes properly! Then again, I don’t know what else to expect from your brain-rot generation these days… you’re running once-proud companies into the ground!”

He says this while clearly straining the buttons on the shirt.

Me: “Sir, I can assure you the label’s accurate; the question is whether it still applies.”

Customer: “Are you calling me fat?!”

Me: “No, sir, but maybe you’ve moved up a generation?”

Manager was called, an XL was suggested (fit him just fine), and I got a slap on the wrist before we all drank at my leaving party that night.

A coworker has come back from a holiday in Mexico and is showing us some of her holiday snaps (this is before social media and such). The manager is looking a bit puzzled.

Manager: “I thought you said you went to Mexico?”

Coworker: “I did.”

Manager: “But Mexico is a desert.”

Coworker: “The north is; close to the US border. Southern Mexico is actually a rainforest. I was in Cancún, so I was way down south.”

Manager: “Rainforest? So you went to Brazil, then?”

Coworker: “No, I was in Southern Mexico. It’s very green!”

Manager: “But only Brazil has a rainforest.”

This is before easily accessible map apps or smartphones, but we did have a world map on the pinboard for some reason.

Me: “[Manager], look here. Mexico goes all the way down here.”

Manager: “Oh… well, that still can’t be right.”

Me: “[Manager], have you been to Mexico?”

Manager: “No, but I saw Desperado.”

Me: *Sarcastically.* “Ah, so you’re an expert, then.”

Manager: *Seriously.* “I would think so!”

We all wisely moved on and [Coworker] continued showing us her holiday snaps, with the manager commenting that Brazil looked like a beautiful country…

Every shop has one notorious customer that everyone hates. Ours is a woman who is always a little ‘off’, be it due to health issues, reading too many strange internet stories/conspiracy theories, or just being plain weird.

I’m working at my supermarket, just before closing. Our notorious customer power-walks up with a mesh bag of oranges, drops them on the belt, and jabs a finger toward the price sign.

Customer: “These are supposed to be £2.50, not £2.80.”

I glance at the screen. It rang up £2.50.

Me: “That’s the price showing, ma’am.”

Customer: “Well, the sign says ‘Special Offer: £2.50’.”

Me: “Yes. And that’s what it rang up as.”

Customer: “But how do I know you didn’t overcharge me before I got here?”

Me: “Because you hadn’t bought them yet.”

Customer: “I’ve shopped here for years. I know when something feels off. I want it double-checked. You might’ve snuck something in.”

I pause. I’m tired. I’m fresh out of patience. I take a breath and smile.

Me: “Sure. I’ll have security review the footage to see if I charged you for oranges… before you walked in.”

She blinked, opened her mouth to reply, then slowly picked up her bag and left without another word.

Customer: “I need half a pound of roast beef. Thinly sliced. Proper thin, not that shredded mess I got last time.”

Me: “You got it, just let me know when this looks right.”

I start slicing and hold up a piece.

Customer: “No. Thinner than that. I don’t want to chew it.”

I adjust, slice thinner, hold it up again.

Customer: “Still too thick. I said thin. Like shaved.”

I nod, set the slice to the finest setting and try again.

Customer: “Thinner!”

Me: “Sir, you’re one request away from me handing you air seasoned with beef.”

Customer: *Deep and mournful sigh.* “Is that really the thinnest you can go?”

My manager, noticing I’m spending a bit longer with this customer than is normal, steps in to help me out.

Manager: “Mate, at this point, he’s not slicing meat, he’s separating molecules. That’s as thin as it gets; take it or leave it.”

Customer: “I suppose that will have to do. The other place in the city centre can go much thinner, FYI.”

Manager: “I didn’t know they had a quantum slicer, but good to know…”

I’m a freelance graphic designer. I live in a small rural village in England, and while not religious, am friends with a few neighbours who attend the local Catholic church. I’m helping them make some pamphlets for an upcoming religious service, and they’ve sent me the copy text to go into the design.

I spot something and call them back.

Me: “Are you sure this is the final copy?”

Client: “That’s what they told me!”

Me: “It’s just the text to go above the image of the priests. It says ‘let us prey’ – spelled P-R-E-Y.”

Client: “Yes, I see that.”

Me: “I think it should be P-R-A-Y. Prey as a verb is… well… probably not what they intended to go with an image of priests.”

Pause.

Client: “Oh… Oh! Yes… I see it now. Yes, I think I’d best double-check.”

Me: “Yes, I think that would be best.”