(I’m cleaning up after a cat incident, letting out harsh, barking coughs every few seconds. After a few minutes of this, my housemate sticks her head out her door in concern.)

Housemate: “You okay? What happened?”

Me: “[Cat] caught a bird. It wasn’t hurt, so I let it go outside, but it lost a lot of feathers.”

Housemate: “Aren’t you allergic to feathers?”

Me: “EXTREMELY.”

(In high school, when I sneeze I sometimes sound like I am yelling, or doing a “scream sneeze” as my English teacher calls them. Because the school only consists of six large classrooms, I can be heard quite well through the school. One day, I sneeze while in Science.)

Me: “Excuse me.” 

Student: *from two classrooms room away* “SHUT UP, [MY NAME]!”

A few years ago, I’m working the night shift at the cigarette counter.

A customer appraoches and asks to purchase some cigarettes, and will pay by EFTPOS. I process this, but when it comes to entering her PIN, the customer seems to have forgotten it. She enters it incorrectly twice, if she does it three times, the card will stop working.

Me : Just to let you know, if you enter the PIN incorrectly a third time, it will lock you card. You have one try left.

Customer : Urgh! It’s my boyfriend’s card, you see, but I know the PIN! I really do!

Me : Um, maybe try credit with a PIN? Maybe that’s the PIN number you know?

Customer : Oh, yea! Let’s try that!

Customer swipes the card again, then selects credit, but for some reason she also chooses to sign instead of entering a PIN. She signs the printed slip, but the signatures in no way match up.

Me : Ummm, these signatures do not match. I’m sorry but I can’t accept it.

Customer : That’s because it’s my boyfriend’s signature on the card, but I signed the paper! It’s me, I swear!

Me : I can’t accept it because they don’t match, sorry. Are you able to call your boyfriend and ask him the PIN number maybe?

Customer : No, we broke up a few days ago, I just wanted some cigarettes. Thanks though!

The customer left, and I had a very interesting story to tell my co-worker when she got back from break.

(It’s a Thursday night, where it’s late-night hours throughout the shopping centre and we are quite busy but hardly ever have enough staff on checkouts for God knows what reason. Regardless of whether I’m working the front desk or in self-serve, customers always gravitate towards me to complain. This happens after I assist an agitated man and his family in self-serve.)

Angry Gentleman: “These machines don’t work; this is ridiculous! You need to have more checkouts open; we won’t be coming back here unless they are!”

(While I can sympathise with him, it’s still not my fault, and he isn’t personally attacking ME per se, so I turn my back to him and walk away while he’s mid-rant. Inevitably, he waves me over again.)

Angry Gentleman: “What’s happening here?! Why don’t they work?”

Me: *explaining in a way as I would a two-year-old* “Okay, you see this light? Green light means ‘good’! You can scan the next item or take your bag off!'”

(His twelve-year-old son at least was receptive, and finished the transaction without hassle while his father stood aside mumbling.)

(We have reached a quiet moment and I am just standing at my checkout waiting for more customers. A man walks in from outside the shop and makes a beeline for my checkout.)

Man: “Give me all your money.”

Me: *absolutely terrified* “Uh… Pardon?”

Man: *holds up his EFTPOS card* “I need [large sum of money], and I just want to remove what you have available in your till and I’ll just get the rest from the others.”