While cashiering, I have a break in customers and work on some straightening. When I next look up, I see a couple going over their items with a woman cradling her substantial amount of fabric. Then, I see something that looks like a tiny paw reach out. I am too far away to be sure, but I assume it has to be a kitten to be that small. 

They soon come up to my register as I’m the only cashier open, and I ask for the fabric ticket to scan, as well as the usual customer service questions. Just as I’m asking them how their evening is going, the woman sets down the fabric and it rustles. She asks me if I want to see their new baby and starts to uncover the top of this vague fabric nest.

A hedgehog perks up and, within a moment, attempts to dash across my register!

The woman catches her pet before it can get too far away or come to any harm, and thankfully, she holds on to it in the fabric for the rest of the short transaction, both her and her partner pleased and friendly the whole time. It is hardly a bad experience but decidedly one of the stranger things to have ever crossed my register.

(I’m picking up two to-go orders from a restaurant I frequent. I get my food and go to pay. Side note: the elderly owner doesn’t allow anyone to work the register except himself.)

Me: *gives him the ticket for the first order*

Owner: “Your total is $7 even.”

(I pay with a $20 and he gives me back a ten and three ones. I give him the ticket for the second order, which ends up being more than $3, so I pay with the ten-dollar bill. The owner places the bill on top of the cash drawer while he gets my change, and then he hands me some ones and another ten.)

Me: *hands him back the ten* “I paid with a $10 the second time.”

(He looks surprised but looks at me and then the bill still on top of the drawer and quickly takes back the extra ten and points a finger at me.)

Owner: “I was just testing you. Have a good day!”

Me: “Riiight…”

(I keep thinking, “What would have happened if the register came up short later and he couldn’t blame anyone else?”)

(I’m the operations manager at a department store. In an effort to cut costs, we’ve been directed to remove our registers from some outlying departments. Since I’m one of the more technologically proficient people in my store, I’m unplugging things and getting them sorted out onto carts to be moved to the stockroom where they’ll be fully wiped of information before they’re sent back to a central hub. Thus far, I’ve detached the card readers and screens from both registers, they’re already on a cart behind me, and all the cash has been removed from the tills. A well-dressed, uppity-looking woman sets two boxes of shoes down in front of me.)

Me: “Good morning! If you’d like to purchase these they’ll be able to—”

Customer: “Of course I want to purchase them.”

Me: “Great. As I was saying, they’ll be able to help you in the jewelry department right over there.”

Customer: “Why would I walk all the way over there?”

(The jewelry department is perhaps 100 feet away, towards the entrance to the mall where I presume the woman came in. Our only other entrance is in the tool department, quite a bit further away.)

Me: “Well, if you came in by the tools, they’ll be able to check you out over there, as well.”

Customer: “Do I look like I came in by the tools? Ring me up for the shoes now. I hate waiting like this; it’s stupid.”

(I look down in front of me at the wires I’m clearly detaching from the CPU of the register and then back at the cart behind me that’s got the screens and card readers on it. I turn back to the customer.)

Me: “If it’s not incredibly obvious, these registers aren’t functional right now. You’ll need to go to a department with a functioning register to check out; there are people ready to take care of you at either entrance.”

Customer: “Well, if they aren’t functioning, fix them.”

(It’s been a long day already and I’m apparently over her.)

Me: “I’m sorry? I’m not going to reassemble a register, get a cash drawer for it, and reboot the whole thing so that you’re able to cash out here. Jewelry or tools, please.”

Customer: “I can wait here all day; you will serve me.”

Me: “I encourage you to hold your breath.”

(I worked there for four more years. I noticed that woman shopping several other times, and I never helped her. Serve yourself, you entitled witch.)

(My hotel chain has an employee discount program that gives a big discount to their employees around the world. Unfortunately, a lot of people have misused it. Strict regulations were placed, and then lifted when misusers complained. A guy comes up to check in. I see that he has the employee discount and go through the check-in process like normal. He goes away. Later, my manager brings me into her office.)

Manager: “Did you check in [Guy]?”

Me: “Yes.”

Manager: “Well, he smoked in the room! I had to charge him $200.”

Me: “Okay?”

Manager: “His credit card declined! You must make sure that it goes through; that is your duty!”

Me: “It did go through. But the authorization only takes $50 extra.”

Manager: *obviously disbelieves me* “Well, next time make sure! This is your fault!”

Me: “Okay, next time I’ll use my psychic powers.” *eyeroll*

(Since the guy was an employee, he knew that he wasn’t supposed to smoke since all of our hotels have a strict non-smoking policy. The manager ended up contacting his hotel and he was promptly fired for disobeying the rules. Turned out he was a supervisor there! My manager also punished me by making me rewatch training videos. Plus, later the guy came in and blamed me, too, for making him lose his job. WTF?!)

I used to work for an office supply store a few years ago. This has always been one of the most amusing and confusing things that happened to me there.

I was working the register when a man came in with his young daughter. He was carrying a decently large box full of printer ink and wanted to return it all. Now, printer ink is expensive enough that we are extra cautious with returns — it can’t be open, etc. — but for any kind of returns at this store, we need a receipt. I asked him for one and he said he didn’t have one.

After some back and forth and attempting to explain that I couldn’t make the return without a receipt, I expected the next step to be him angrily demanding to see my manager, who also would have refused to return multiple hundreds of dollars’ worth of ink with no proof of purchase. Instead, he picked up the box and told his daughter they were leaving. 

Over his shoulder, as he went out the door, he told me, “If you won’t let me return this here, I’ll just go return it to [Competitor Store]!”

I’m still confused as to why he thought that was a good final word to have in this.