(I work as a cashier at a drugstore. When I was hired, I told them I start to pass out if I stand still too long and they said they’d put me in the makeup section where I’d be moving around a lot. Unfortunately, I am good with customers, and I get put on the front register every single shift. The line today is long, and nobody comes up when I ask for a second cashier.)

Me: “Sorry the line is going slow. If anybody doesn’t want to wait, they can also check you out in cosmetics.”

(A few customers peel off, which is a relief. I’m overwhelmed and starting to get faint, and stress makes it worse. About five minutes later, one comes back to my line.)

Customer #1: “You said it was faster, but I’ve been waiting this whole time.”

Me: “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see she was doing a return. I’ll help you right away.”

Customer #1: “You should have checked.”

Me: “Yes. I made a mistake. I’m very sorry.”

(We finish going through the order, but I’m starting to pass out and can’t see or think clearly.)

Me: “Here’s your change. It’s ten… Sorry, ten… It’s…”

Customer #1: “You need to learn how to do your job.”

(He walks out in a huff.)

Customer #2: “Miss, are you all right? You don’t look well.”

(I pass out and smack my head on the way down. I have a concussion and have to be taken home by a coworker. A month later, the same customer walks in.)

Customer #1: “So have you learned how to do your job yet?”

This story is part of our Invisible Disability roundup!

Read the next Invisible Disability roundup story!

Read the Invisible Disability roundup!

(We have a small shelf near the cash registers with a few candies and juice boxes and all that. One day, when I’m working at the register, a lady comes charging up to me.)

Customer: *very angry* “LETTUCE JUUUICE!” 

Me: *gives confused expression* “Sorry, ma’am, what?”

Customer: *now triggered* “LETTUCE JUICE! WHERE’S MY LETTUCE JUUUUUICCEEE?!” 

Me: *thinking she’s talking about the shelf, I point to it* “Erm, ma’am—”

Customer: *slaps my hand* “NOOOO! LETTUCE JUICE!”

(I now give up and let her keep going.)

Customer: “LETTUCE JUICE! This is ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE! I’m calling corporate!” *storms out of store*

(I’ve never actually figured what she was trying to say.)

(I’m not at my best here; in my defense, I’m still pretty new at my deli job at this point. I’m going about my duties when I see a woman hovering near, but not actually at, the sandwich counter. She’s closer to our grab-and-go station and not actually looking at us so I figure she’s just picking something up and go about my work. I look back at her 30 seconds to a minute later; she’s now staring daggers directly at me with a “why aren’t you helping me” glare. I internally brace myself and go over to see what she wants.)

Me: “Hi. Can I help you?”

Customer: “I want a ham and cheese croissant.”

Me: “Okay! Would you mind filling out a sandwich form out for me so I know what exactly you would like?” *attempting to walk her over to the actual sandwich counter*

Customer: “I want a ham and cheese croissant!”

Me: “Yes. But I need to know what kind of ham, what kind of cheese, and if you’d like any condiments or veggies.”

(Looking affronted at this indignity, the customer reluctantly walks over to the sandwich counter and fills out a form, giving it back to me with the greatest contempt. It turns out she really does want just ham and cheese on a plain croissant, but at least now I know which ham and cheese. I go to the counter to build her sandwich when tragedy strikes. I see no croissants.)

Me: “It doesn’t look like we have any croissants; is there another bread option you would like?”

Customer: *glowers silently at me*

Me: *suddenly hoping there’s a croissant storage I’m unaware of* “You know what? Let me grab a coworker and make sure we don’t have any.”

(I grab a nearby coworker, and she explains to me that we don’t typically keep croissants in the deli because of how quickly they go bad, but we can grab some from the bakery. I’m a little confused about the process of scanning out croissants from the bakery to the deli so it’s taking a little bit for my coworker to explain, but I’m doing my best to keep the lady involved in the conversation, apologizing for the delay and promising that we’ll get this figured out. Unfortunately, it’s a little too much for her, as she swings her cart around and storms off, hollering dramatically as she walks away:)

Customer: “You know what?! Fine! I will buy the ingredients and just make it myself!”

Me: *to the space that was previously a customer* “Okay, good luck with that!”

(A couple of weeks later, I was talking to a cashier coworker who regaled me with a tale of this horribly rude and cranky woman who came to her line buying cheese and croissants, ranting about how horrible and expensive it was that she was having to actually make her own sandwich, and how dare the deli not have croissants. I recognized the customer immediately, apologized to the cashier for having to deal with the aftermath, and let her in on the origin story of Angry Croissant Lady.)

(I’m in beauty school, currently in the hairdressing program. For those who don’t know, this is a program that comes with quite a bit of equipment — everything from combs and a hairdryer to a “mannequin head” on which to practice haircuts and styles. I have a suitcase that I can fit most of my tools into, but my mannequin head doesn’t quite fit. Picture a young woman with hot pink hair carrying what is essentially a disembodied plastic head around on the bus every morning and evening. On this particular occasion I’m gathering up all my stuff to get off the bus, and I pick up my mannequin head by the hair, as that tends to be the easiest, most secure way to hang onto it. As I lift the head, the woman sitting across from me makes this cheerful comment:) 

Woman: “I like your baby!”

Me: *thinking* “It’s actually a severed head, but okay.”

Back in third or fourth grade, we had someone come into our class for a special science lesson. They had petri dishes, swabs, and an incubator, and immediately after recess, they asked us to swab our hands and wipe the swab on a petri dish. Then, we were told to wash our hands with a bar of soap they brought in — the usual liquid soap was off-limits for some reason — and then re-swab our hands for another petri dish. We then labeled both dishes, put them in the incubator, and came back the next day to look at the results.

Almost everyone had more bacteria on their hands after washing them. The exceptions were two girls who “probably scrubbed enough to remove most of the bacteria physically.” It was explained that certain types of bar soap were actually decent places for bacteria to live, and that denying us the liquid soap was a trap. The presenter then went on to talk about some of the colonies of bacteria on the slides and some interesting or rare ones, as well as which ones might be dangerous.

So… that’s the story of why I stopped using all soap for over a decade — and still prefer liquid soap over bar soap. In my defense, I was young and may have missed the point of the presenter. On the other hand, he was giving a presentation to young children on how washing your hands with soap can actually add bacteria. Why would you ever think that is a good idea?