I bought a few clothes at a thrift shop (two shirts and a dress). I had a gift card for $25 (yes, this thrift shop does gift cards), and when I went to pay the cashier:

Cashier: “Okay, that’s fourteen dollars left.”

I assumed she meant left on the gift card, so I tried to leave. She stopped me.

Cashier: “Hey! You still owe fourteen!”

Me: “They’re low-price items. It doesn’t make sense that three things at a thrift shop would cost more than my gift card.”

Cashier: “That’s what the machine is telling me.”

Me: “Then your machine is wrong.”

Cashier: *Sighs.* “Let me call my manager.”

The manager comes over, takes one look at the register, and takes a longer look at the cashier.

Manager: “[Cashier], what does that say?”

Cashier: “Fourteen.”

Manager: “And that symbol next to the fourteen?”

Cashier: “I dunno? A line? Whatever.”

Manager: “That means negative fourteen. Minus fourteen. It means she still has fourteen dollars left on the gift card.”

Cashier: “That doesn’t make sense! Negative numbers are only in math, not the real world! They’re not real!”

Manager: *To me.* “Sorry about that, you can go.”

I say thank you and turn to leave. I overhear on my way out:

Cashier: “How can you have negative money?”

Manager: “My dear, the whole world is in negative money…”

Our arts and crafts store has a regular customer who will always find ways to yell at people. We’ve long given up trying to make her happy, as it’s obvious she’s engineering situations that will give her a reason to yell.

Today, she has been in the store for about three hours, and because we’ve either avoided her or been able to resolve her issues immediately, she hasn’t enjoyed a power trip of berating someone yet.

So today, she’s decided to continue browsing after we’ve closed. Every time we’ve seen her, she’s made it clear she’s just browsing and not shopping for anything specific, and just DARING us to remind her that we’re closing soon. We’re holding off, as at the moment we can complete most of our regular closing duties around her.

When she finally realizes we’re not going to rush her, she huffs and pushes her cart to the checkouts. 

She then proceeds to cherry-pick every item as she removes it from her cart.

Customer: “Is this on sale?”

Cashier: “Yes, ma’am.”

Customer: “Okay, put it through.”

She takes out the next item.

Customer: “Is this on sale?”

Cashier: “No, ma’am.”

Customer: “Ugh! Typical. I don’t want it then.”

After twenty minutes of this, our manager has finally had enough. Everything else is done, and we’re literally just waiting on this one last customer. He sends every last remaining cashier to her lane, and every time she claims she doesn’t want an item, one of them takes it back to its proper place in the store.

After a few of these, the customer realizes her attempt to delay us by creating a pile of put-backs isn’t working, and she gets grumpy.

Customer: “Fine, I’ll get these things.”

Cashier: “That will be $309, ma’am.”

Customer: “You can’t give me a better deal? I’m a loyal customer.”

Manager: *Intervening.* “Ma’am, the deals that you got on most of your items in the cart are loyalty discounts. We can’t give you a better deal.”

Customer: “Who asked you?!”

Manager: “You asked for a discount, and the cashier would have been unable to provide one, so you would have asked for the manager. I’m the manager, and since I happen to be standing here, I can save you some time.”

Customer: “Save me some time, eh? Why are you rushing me?! You should be grateful! It isn’t every day someone comes in and spends $300 on this stuff!”

Manager: “Actually, it is every day. We have individual items that are more expensive than your total, that customers buy every day.”

Customer: “So, I’m not worth keeping as a customer then?! Well, fine, if you’re not going to work hard to make me feel welcome…”

She buys the stuff anyway and slowly pushes her cart out to the exit. She’s about to turn around and question some items on her receipt, but the manager has already pulled down the shutter behind her.

Customer: *Yelling from behind the shutter.* “That is so rude! You saw I was about to ask you something! I’m going to complain to corporate! Just you wait!”

Me: *To my manager.* “So close to getting her out of here without yelling.”

Manager: “She’s yelling, but she’s outside. That’s a win.”

My manager used this whole incident (and the cost of the inevitable overtime) to ask corporate to ban this customer. Tired from the number of times she had called them to complain, they didn’t put up a fight and allowed it.

Related:
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 36
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 35
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 34
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 33
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 32

I head into a random fast-food place as I’m getting hungry, and by coincidence, I see my grandparents ordering ahead of me. I’m about to go say hi when I realize they’re shouting and berating the poor teenager serving them to the point of tears because they were out of stock of a particular flavor of sundae.

I felt embarrassed and so bad for the worker, but I didn’t know how to handle the situation, so I just left and decided to eat somewhere else. I felt especially bad because they know I also work in a fast-food place while I’m in college, so I thought they’d have a bit more compassion.

That weekend, my grandparents invited everyone over for a backyard barbecue. I intentionally arrive late (one of my grandma’s pet peeves) and she confronts me:

Grandma: “[My Name]! You’re an hour late! You told us you finished work at midday on Sundays, so what’s your excuse, young lady?!”

Me: “Sorry, Grandma. A couple was shouting at my poor teenage coworker, and she was crying and had to take some time to calm down, so I had to take over. Can you imagine? Adults doing that to a poor teenager over an ice cream that’s out of stock?! Something that they have no control over? Those people must live very miserable and meaningless lives if that’s how they treat children. Anyway, how are you?”

Suddenly, my tardiness was forgiven!

A customer is requesting my assistance at the large arts and crafts store where I work.

Customer: “Could you get [item] off the top shelf for me?”

Me: *Hands it to her.* “Here you go!”

Customer: “Does it come in black?”

Me: “If it does, we don’t have that in stock, ma’am. I’ve only ever seen it in that color.”

Customer: “Right, but does it come in black?”

Me: “You’d have to check with the manufacturer, ma’am, but we don’t stock it in black.”

Customer: *Getting annoyed.* “Right, but does it come in black?!”

She’s raising her voice, so I see my manager begin to make his way over.

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t know. As I said—”

Customer: “—I know what you said, and it’s not helpful! I need to know if this comes in black!”

Manager: *Thankfully arriving.* “Ma’am, we—”

Customer: *Rounding on to my manager.* “—I want to know—”

Manager: “—if it comes in black, yes, ma’am, I know. Your voice carries. We sell black spray-paint. We’re a craft store. Get crafty.”

My manager literally pulls me away as the customer scoffs, but still buys the non-black item.

My daughters’ middle school (grades six to nine, ages twelve to fourteen) got a new principal. He’s stricter than the previous one. For example, he instituted a no cell phone policy and a no backpack policy (both would be left in lockers or a staff-attended storage room).

The former I thought made sense because my daughters had told me how distracted their classmates often are (and my daughters share a flip phone anyway; they do the same extracurriculars, and neither is old enough to drive), but the latter confused me, and I wasn’t sure it had been totally thought out. I asked the new principal about it at the school’s open house, shortly before the school year started.

Me: “Hi, welcome to the school! I like your no cell phone policy; it makes a lot of sense with the different research I’ve read, especially [particular book about teen mental health].”

Principal: “I read the same book, and that’s a huge part of why the rule is in place.”

Me: “I’m confused about the backpack policy, though. Can you explain that one?”

Principal: “That’s just a matter of logistics. There are so many students enrolled that it’s hard for them to fit through the hallways during passing periods if they have backpacks on.”

Me: “Ah, I see. But… what about students with medical devices, like inhalers? Or the approximately third of your students who menstruate and will need to change a pad or tampon during the school day?”

The principal’s eyes went wide for just a fraction of a second, just long enough for me to be pretty sure he hadn’t thought about that.

Principal: “Oh, medical needs. Yes, of course; students can have a small bag or purse for carrying things like that.”

And a few hours later, there was an email “clarifying” that students were allowed to carry small bags for things like pens and pencils, pads and tampons, and medical devices. I’m glad I asked!