Me: “That’s £13.12, please.”

(The customer hands me £5. I wait for him to find the rest, but he just stares at me, nonplussed.)

Customer: “Well, there it is.”

Me: “It’s £13.12. I’ve only got £5 here.”

(The customer rummages in his pockets and fishes out three more £1 coins.)

Customer: “There. Is that enough now?”

Me: “That’s £8. I need £13.12.”

Customer: “You want more?!”

(He finds another two £1 coins in his pocket, passes them to me, then stares at me, gone out again.)

Me: “You’ve only given me £10.”

Customer: “How much more do you want?!”

Me: “I need another £3.12 to make it up to £13.12.”

(He finds me another three £1 coins.)

Customer: “There! Is that enough now?!”

Me: “I just need another 12p.”

(He passes me 50p, then turns to go as I sort his change.)

Me: “Here’s your change and your receipt.”

Customer: “Oh, I get change, do I? After all that?”

(Here in the UK, we currently have a ban on the advertisement of any tobacco products. Because of this, they are kept behind opaque metal shutters in our store.)

Customer #1: “Can I have twenty [brand]?”

Me: “You can, yes.”

(I slide the door aside, get the pack, and slide it closed again.)

Customer #1: *with a smile* “They should have red warning lights on the doors.”

(I chuckle. It’s not unheard of for customers to make fun of the new law or the grisly images on the boxes meant to deter you from smoking.)

Customer #1: “Or maybe a man on fire. Being burned at the stake!”

(I smile but feel a little uncomfortable by this point. One on one is fine, but when others are in earshot it’s awkward. There are two people waiting patiently behind her.)

Customer #1: *pays and picks up her cigarettes* “A beheading! That would do it; you need a big picture of someone being beheaded.”

Me: “Ha, yes, I think it would. See you again!”

([Customer #1] walks away with a smile on her face. My next customer has a “What the heck did I just listen to?” look on her face.)

Me: “You get all sorts.”

Customer #2: “I bet you do!”

[I am chatting with one of my regular customers at the till. Note; I look a few years older than I actually am.]

Me: It’s my birthday tomorrow.

Customer: Oh, lovely! Happy birthday! How old?

Me: I’m turning 31.

Customer: [laughs] You wish!

Me: …no, I’m really turning 31 tomorrow.

[There’s a pause as the customer realises I’m telling the truth.]

Customer: Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to insult you before your birthday! I thought you were about 35, 36, and were joking! You know, “31 again!” and all that.

Me: [laughs] Don’t worry about it, I get that a lot!

Customer: [smiling] Well, have a fantastic birthday tomorrow! I hope you have the day off and don’t have to deal with silly customers like me.

Me: I do, and I won’t!

[Off she went, and I heard her telling her husband about how she’d “almost offended that nice young man who helps us.” Bless!]

(I am restocking bread when the following conversation happens:)

Customer: “Do you have any of the bread I buy?”

Me: “Maybe, which type of bread is it you get?”

Customer: “I don’t know; I know it has seeds in it.”

Me: “Can you remember who makes it or even the colour of the packaging?”

Customer: “No. I’ve told you enough to find it; now do so!”

(I am at a loss as what to do, so I show her the most expensive bread we have with seeds in it.)

Me: “Here you go.”

Customer: “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

(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.)