A customer is trying to tap their credit card to pay. He’s an older fella, and the cashier is a young woman.

Cashier: “Sir, it’s asking you to insert your card and enter your PIN.”

Customer: “And I told you I don’t want to do that. Are you having trouble understanding my English?”

Cashier: “I… understand it just fine, sir. I don’t have any control over which transactions can be paid with a tap and which need a PIN inserted. That’s decided by your bank.”

Customer: “I don’t want to type in my PIN in a public space! It’s not secure!”

Cashier: “Sir, it’s more secure than simply tapping your card.”

Customer: “Shut up! I will not be told how to spend my money by a little immigrant girl.”

I’m about to step in and tell this guy to shut the f*** up, but a manager appears before I make more than a couple of steps.

Manager: “Mate! Just insert the card or use another one. Being a racist pr**k isn’t going to make the card go through.”

Customer: “It’s not racist to expect some basic English comprehension and some decent customer service, not to mention that this girl here doesn’t even know how to operate her machine! Did you know immigrants have taken all the jobs?! Did you?!”

The manager puts his finger up to his lips and does the ‘shhh’ noise, while also holding the same finger from his other hand up to the customer’s face, doubling the shushing. Then he says calmly:

Manager: “Did you know if you put your top lip and your bottom lip together, you’d shut the f*** up?”

He did shut the f*** up, as he abandoned his shopping and walked out!

Many years ago, I was clearing out my grandma’s apartment after her passing. Mostly trying to sell off whatever no one wanted, including her computer. I decided to see if I could sell it through one of the computer repair/used computer shops.

The first one I called, I had seen ads for all over town, so I assumed it was relatively reputable. They asked me how old the computer was. I told them I had no idea, and they said to bring it in, and they’d have a look, but that they could probably give me about $100 for it. Awesome.

When I get to the shop, the vibe is off. About five guys are working in the back, and none even acknowledge my presence for a good few minutes, like talking amongst themselves, not working, and ignoring my initial hello. Eventually, one guy comes over.

Tech: “So, how old did you say this computer is?”

Me: “I have no idea, it was my grandmother’s. I think she’s had it for a few years at least.”

Tech: “Riiight. This is old as f***. I don’t know why you even bothered bringing it here.”

Me: “That’s why I called first, and whoever I talked to said to just bring it in.”

Tech: “That was me, and you didn’t say it was old!”

Me: “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. All computer towers look the same to me.”

Tech: “UGH. Maybe I could use it for parts.

At this point, he took the side of the tower off, and suddenly his mood shifted to really aggressive.

Tech: “Where did you get this?”

Me: “My grandma?”

Tech: “Then why does it say [Grandma’s Male Friend’s Name] inside it!?”

Me: “Probably cause that’s the guy she got her computer from?”

Tech: “Yeah, sure. Okay, well, I can toss this for you.”

Me: “Uh, I brought it in to sell… otherwise I’ll just let my kids play on it.”

Tech: “So you just wasted my time.”

And then he immediately walked away to where the other guys were still sitting and says something to the effect of “can you believe this b****?”

I left very quickly. I ended up giving it back to the friend who had sold it to my grandma. Came to find out he had built it himself, and it had all sorts of fancy parts/programming.

I worked at a convenience store, and there was another convenience store literally across the street. Employees at both stores would say something similar to these kinds of customers:

Customer: “You know [Competitor]’s prices are cheaper than yours?”

Me: “I did not know that, but if you did and you’re still shopping here, you’re a bit of a stupid c*** aren’t ya?”

Years ago, I worked at a well-known Canadian hardware and automotive store. While many of these stores can be quite large (upwards of a hundred aisles), this particular one was only thirty-two aisles, plus a small garden section.

I’d been hired to work in the hardware department, but, due to the size of the store, “hardware” basically meant “not automotive”. I covered hardware, housewares, sports, seasonal, and garden.

One day, while stocking shelves in the electrical aisle, I was approached by a customer.

Customer: “Excuse me, I need some help in Automotive.”

As that wasn’t my department, I was about to do what I usually do, and direct her to speak to someone at the automotive service desk. However, from where I was in the aisle, I could see that there was already a fair line-up at the desk.

Me: “Well, it’s not actually my department, but what is it you’re looking for? I may be able to help.”

Customer: “I need new wiper blades for my car.”

Me: “Okay. I’m fairly certain there’s a book we can use.”

I take her over to where the wiper blades are located, and sure enough, there’s a reference book mounted in the center of the aisle. I flip it open and quickly see that it’s organized by vehicle make, model, and year. Perfect, this should be easy.

Me: “Okay, I can help you with this. What type of car do you have?”

Customer: “Oh, I have a blue one.”

Me: “…You know what? Actually, I think you’ll need to go stand in that line and talk to someone at the auto service desk.”

Customer: “Hey, I don’t have my glasses, can you tell me where this perfume was made?”

Me: “Sure thing.”

I start looking at the outside of the box.

Me: “It says here ‘Made in PRC’, which I’m pretty sure stands for People’s Republic of China.”

Customer: “Are you sure it’s a ‘C’? It could be a ‘G’?” *Gasps.* “Maybe it’s made in Prague!”

Sure, you keep thinking that, buddy.