A coworker who works evenings called in sick. We managed to get someone to cover his shift and everything seemed fine.

Management and employees are all pretty friendly with each other, so it’s a very relaxed atmosphere; apparently, so relaxed that the coworker felt very comfortable coming in to buy alcohol during the time he was supposedly “sick” and bragging about how he just wanted the night off for a party. He bragged to the supervisor on hand.

He denied doing it later when my manager brought him in to talk about it, even with multiple witnesses. Despite this, my manager gave him a chance and told him that as long as he admitted to what he’d done and was sincere in his apology, there wouldn’t be any disciplinary action.

He swore up and down he didn’t do it and was fired on the spot since multiple witnesses were present in the shop and another co-worker — who actually had the night off — saw him at the party.

My manager just couldn’t trust him after that.

Later I heard him threatening the other coworker for “grassing him up” about it.

Honesty is sometimes better than a bold-faced lie.

(I work in a high-end gift shop near a popular tourist destination. A woman walks up to me holding two calendars and a £20 note.)

Customer: “What kind of discount do I get for buying more than one of something?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t have any multi-buy discounts.”

Customer: “Hmph. Well, these calendars are £10.99. I have £20.”

(She looks at me expectantly.)

Me: “Okay.”

Customer: “How many can I buy?”

Me: “I’m not sure what you’re asking me. You may buy as many calendars as you like. But two calendars would cost £21.98. If you only have £20, you can only buy one calendar.”

Customer: *stares blankly*

Me: “So, let’s ring that up for you!”

(I lead the customer over to the tills, where she handed me both calendars and the £20 note. She looked quite disgruntled that I placed one calendar behind the counter and scanned the other, but she said nothing. When I handed her change to her, she pulled out a wallet positively stuffed with money. So much for not having the extra £1.98!)

(A woman with family in tow comes to our branch of a charity chain to enquire about weekend opening hours. While waiting for someone in the back to get the details, I’m left to watch the shop. It should be noted that, despite being a local, I have next to no accent, leaving many people unsure of my nationality.)

Woman: “I’ve got to ask: Which part of America are you from?”

Me: “Oh, haha, no. I’m not American, at all.”

Woman: “Really? From Canada, then.”

Me: “No, no. I’m from quite nearby.”

Woman: “But you’ve been living in another country, then?”

Me: “Nope, sorry. I was born and bred two miles north of here.”

Woman: “Oh, my. I’m so sorry for your broken accent.”

(I’m about to laugh it off when she turns to her husband with the rest of the family.)

Woman: “Honey! Come hear this young man’s broken accent!”

(Fortunately, a coworker returned with the opening times and I could make my escape.)

(I have ordered the new Samsung Galaxy S8. It arrives and, despite my protests that I know how to set it up, the cashier is adamant that he do it for me. He walks around the counter and takes the phone out of the box in front of me. Lo and behold, he opens it upside down and the phone falls flat on the floor, face-down. Everyone gasps and he tries to recover the situation by playing it off. While I doubt there is any real damage, I’m less than keen on accepting the phone now. He tries to convince me to keep take it because “I’ll just end up breaking it anyway.” I refuse, and a manager gets involved.)

Manager: “Again?! This is the sixth one today!”

Cashier: “But there’s nothing wrong with it!”

Me: “Sorry, but I haven’t even touched it. I know it might be a bit pompous, but—”

Manager: “No, no. It’s all right. I wouldn’t think of selling one that has been damaged in-store. No one accepted their phones either…” *mumbles to himself* “Two iPhones, two Nexus, an HTC, and now a Galaxy!”

(He apologises to me and offers that I take the phone that he ordered for himself. I decline and just reorder another, but he gives me a discount on a case and screen protection. As I leave…)

Manager: “[Cashier], if you must open them, please, I say, please open them over a table, at least. I can’t keep sending phones back!”

(My daughter is two and a half. She has overheard her mother talking on the phone about how the bad weather will affect her commute the next morning, and decides to inform me about the situation.)

Daughter: “Daddy, Mummy stuck!”

Me: “What’s that?”

Daughter: “Mummy stuck in the mud!”

Me: “Why would you say that?”

Daughter: “Mummy stuck in the mud, and go, ‘HAAAYYULP! HAAAYYULP!’”

Me: “I’m not sure which is more weird; that you think Mummy has gotten stuck in some mud in the living room, or that you think she’s turned into Penelope Pitstop.”