(I work at a local video game store, where we buy and sell used games and electronic accessories. Every item in our store comes with a 30-day same-item exchange warranty to insure the customer always gets a working product. I am helping another customer out when a new one comes in, approaches the counter and, seeing that all our employees are busy, tries to talk to me, anyway.)

Customer: “Excuse me, sir. I just have a quick question.”

Me: *while I am looking up prices for the previous customer already standing at my counter* “Yeah, shoot.”

Customer: “Well, I bought this charging cable for my [Console] controller a while back, but it doesn’t seem to be working. I was told last time I could bring it back for an exchange.”

Me: “Once I finish here, I will take a look.” *I finish helping my previous customer* “All right. Can I take a look?”

(The customer hands me a charging cable. It is covered in dust, and the inside of the USB is actually rusted over.)

Me: “Um, you just bought this?”

Customer: “Yes, very recently. I was told I could return it for another one if there were any problems, and it isn’t working.”

(I look over the cord incredulously, refusing to believe we could possibly sell something in such terrible condition.)

Me: “Can I see a receipt, sir?”

Customer: “Yup, I thought you might need it.”

(He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and hands it to me. Upon inspection, I am not surprised to see that the receipt is from over six months ago.)

Me: “Sir, I am sorry. There isn’t really anything I can do here; this purchase is from nearly half a year ago.”

Customer: *looking at me as if I am some sort of madman* “But I was told I could return it.”

Me: “We only offer a thirty-day same-item exchange on all of our products. We can’t possibly begin to cover something that has been in your possession for so long.”

Customer: “Oh, I must’ve brought the wrong receipt. I have another one in my car. I’ll be right back.”

(After a quick trot outside, the customer returns to the desk with a new receipt. I almost facepalm after looking at the date.)

Me: “Sir, this one is from four months ago.”

Customer: “See? I told you I had a more recent one.”

Me: “We only cover it for thirty days.”

Customer: “Look. I can’t waste anymore time on this. I want to speak to your manager. I bought both these cords from here, and now you’re telling me I can’t return one that didn’t work.”

(My manager came over and had the exact same talk with the customer. After about twenty minutes of having the exchange policy explained to him, he threw a fit, claiming that no one ever told him about the policy before. When we pointed out that the policy was both written on his receipt and posted on signs within the store, he then threw the cord on the ground and stomped off. He started shouting to people outside that we were con artists and should be arrested for stealing his money.)

(On my first day working in a video game store, I hear loud, drunken rambling outside. I go out to find an extremely irate man screaming and pointing at one of the other employee’s cars. I ask what the problem is.)

Me: “Dude. What’s the deal, man?”

Customer: “This f***** parked his car over the line!”

(The employee, who happens to be female, has parked her car — a large range rover — with one of the front tires barely over the line.)

Me: “Listen. I’m going to have to ask you to stop screaming and swearing out here, all right? This is a small town and people get scared by that kind of stuff.”

Customer: “I’m from f***ing De Moines! I’ve seen scarier s*** every f***ing morning!”

Me: “I understand that, dude, but you really don’t want to scare these people.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah? Why not?!”

(The guy starts to bump into me with his chest, pushing me against the wall. Just then, the manager walks out aiming his .44 magnum revolver that he always open-carries.)

Manager: “Because everybody in Wyoming has one of these, and you don’t want to scare somebody with one of these.”

(The manager pulls the hammer back.)

Manager: “Right now, you’re scaring me.”

(The customer stared in horror down the barrel of the gun and swiftly got in his car and drove off.)

(I work in a game store.)

Me: “Your total is [total].”

Customer: “Can I pay you with this?”

(The man then hands me a tin of mints.)

Me: *very confused* “Sir, I really can’t take that as payment.”

Customer: “Just take it.” *shoves mints in my hand*

(I am about to retort when I realize there is something off about the pack of mints. I open it up and find a fully functional computer inside of it! The screen is very small, but it runs smoothly.)

Me: *laughing* “That is amazing! I honestly wish I could take it as payment, but we don’t sell computers here.”

Customer: “Aw, that sucks. I made it myself and I got kind of bored with it. Let me know if you find anyone who might want it!”

(He paid and left with his computer, but not before letting all the staff take pictures and get his contact info so we could spread the word for him!)

(As the only video game store in a small town, you get to know your customers, and what they look for. One regular is self-described as very Christian, and she wants reasonably specific games for her children. They must contain minimal amounts of violence, lack of nudity, and no swearing. So, when she returns a very popular Disney game, I am quite surprised.)

Me: “Was there something wrong with the game, or didn’t you like the gameplay?”

Customer: “No, it’s not that; it’s just…”

Me: “Just what?”

Customer: “It has magic it in. I don’t like things to do with magic.”

(At this point, I handed the customer off to another sales person, and went out back to convince myself not to rage-quit life.)

(It’s release day of a game I’ve had pre-ordered for months. I’m mildly autistic and have social anxiety, as well as having busted my arm in a fall five days prior to the incident. I’ve been at home on rest with my arm in a sling. Normally, I would ask my husband to pick up the game, but due to being stuck in the house all week and the need for a pick-me-up, I decide to brave the store and grab the game myself. I reach the store at the shopping centre where I work, and I see that the queue is six feet out of the door. I join it in disbelief.)

Me: “Must be a lot of games coming out today.”

Customer #1: *overhears and turns around* “It’s a black Friday event, so there’s a huge sale on consoles and stuff. I’m here for a PS4.”

Me: “Ah, thanks.”

(I am now wishing I’d gotten here sooner, having heard of the queues and arguments that happen over in the USA around such sales. I wait in line for the best part of half an hour, and the queue grows behind me as I move forward. A mother and her son, who looks to be in his early 20s, join directly behind me and mutter about the length of the line almost constantly. It appears to be moving slowly, but without barricades outside the shop doors, the queue is more of a rabble. As we head inside the doors, we’re corralled into a narrow queue that sorts us into two abreast at the most.)

Customer #2: *very loudly as the queue narrows* “Has that girl always been in front of us? I don’t remember seeing her there before.”

Customer #3: “She probably pushed in. I bet she was behind us.”

(As the queue narrows, they attempt to push me out of the queue entirely, blocking the entry between the barricades by standing next to each other. Thankfully, I move faster than they do and keep my place in the queue, though I’m beginning to become stressed by the sheer mass of people adding to the pain in my arm. I distract myself from their mutterings by making eye contact with the busy staff that rush by, filling orders. Most are regulars at the food shop I work at and recognize me, smiling, which helps with the unease until I tune back into the conversation behind me.)

Customer #2: “That’s horrendously rude, pushing in. We’ve been waiting here for half an hour. She should have to wait as well.”

Customer #3: “Some people just want their games so badly they just don’t care.”

Customer #1: *turning, looking irritated at their raised discussion* “She’s been behind me the entire time. Cool it.”

(I smile at him for his aid; he doesn’t seem to notice and turns back to the front, but the pair quiets down for five minutes or so. Now, the queue has narrowed, and the line seems to be moving faster, though there are only two sales points so progress is still a little painful. I’m four places from the front when they start up again.)

Customer #3: “I bet she thinks it’s fine because she’s hurt herself.”

Customer #2: “I bet she did it on purpose to get attention.”

Customer #3: “It might not even be hurt; she’s not got a cast, just a splint. It’s probably fake.”

Customer #2: “Maybe she’s using it to scam benefits to spend on games.”

Customer #3: “Maybe I should squeeze her arm and see.”

(By this point I’ve had enough. I’m in a lot of pain and under a lot of stress thanks to my anxiety, and on the edge of tears from the comments. I step into the space next to me and motion for them to go ahead of me while trying to keep calm enough to not succumb to a breakdown in public.)

Me: “Please, if your game is so important to you, save yourself thirty seconds and step in front of me already, and shut up. I’ve already waited almost an hour; a few minutes won’t kill me.”

Customer #3: *as they take my place* “About time. You should have just joined the queue like everyone else.”

Customer #2: “Rude b****.”

(I bite my lip, but I can feel myself breaking. I refuse to leave the store after waiting in the line so long, and I try to repress it, but tears still fall. [Customer #1] turns around and gives me a concerned look, but I shrug and shake my head, knowing my breakdown will only get worse if I try to talk about it. Before long, [Customer #1] is called up to a till and the pair are at the front of the line. Looking around at random parts of the shop, trying to calm down, I notice that [Customer #1] has pointed to me and is talking to their cashier, a man I know well. I offer him a weak smile when our eyes meet, and he smiles back before going back to [Customer #1]. I feel embarrassed that everyone I know from this store is going to know I cried in line now. The pair are pulled up to the second register, pick up the single item they pre-ordered: the same game as me. It comes with a free miniature figurine. They leave just as [Customer #1] does, so I head up to the till with the employee I recognize.)

Employee: “Are you all right? The last guy said that pair in front of you were being pretty rude.”

Customer #4: *overhearing at her own cash register and turning around* “They tried to push her out the queue, accused her of faking her arm injury, and insulted her when she stepped aside to let them in front to shut them up.”

Me: “It’s okay. I just want to pick up [Game] and be on my way home. I’ve had enough.”

Employee: *smiling, bags my game* “Unfortunately, we just ran out of figurines to go with pre-orders, but…” *pulls out a figurine from under the desk of his coworker, who has seen the whole exchange at her own till* “…looks like my associate’s last customers forgot theirs, so you can have it.”

Me: *smiles back* “Thank you.”

(While he is still bagging up my order and putting a 10% discount on my transaction for my experience in the queue, the pair comes back into the store and demands their figurine. My clerk turns my transaction over to a colleague, so he can handle the matter as the manager of the store. They are told that the store has run out of figurines, and that they are ejected and permanently banned from the store for upsetting another regular customer by bullying.)

Customer #2: “Well… You’re upsetting my child!” *the 20-something man just looks annoyed he didn’t get his figurine* “We’ll complain to Trading Standards! I know my rights!”

Employee: “Please do. I look forward to regaling them with the whole story.”

(The woman huffed and stormed out, leaving me feeling a little better with a smile on my face. The staff all wished me well before I left. I still have the figure — a small plastic thing, about the height of my thumb, probably only worth 50 pence — it has a place of pride on my desk to remind me of the wonderful staff at my local game store!)

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