(I’m in the ER with my husband after he broke his arm. A woman and her adult daughter are in the curtain area next to us. From what I can gather, the older woman had a fall and hit her head; she doesn’t remember what happened and has lost her hearing aids. The nurse is asking her some general questions. It is 2014 and we live in Australia.)

Nurse: “Okay, just a few questions. What is your full name?”

Older Woman: “[Older Woman].”

Nurse: “Great, and your birthdate?”

Older Woman: “Pardon?”

Daughter: *bit louder* “Your birthday, mum”

Older Woman: “Oh, it’s [birthdate].”

Nurse: “Who is the prime minister?”

Older Woman: “I’m sorry, what?”

Daughter: *louder again* “Who’s the idiot that runs the country?”

Older Woman: “Oh, that’s Tony Abbott.”

(My husband and I couldn’t help but laugh. The nurse had a good chuckle, too.)

(I am working the express lane which is for fifteen items or less. I look up to see a lady with a trolley holding probably about fifty items.)

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am, but this is the express lane. It’s only fifteen items or less.”

Customer: “Uh, I shop here all the time, so it’s fine.”

(Apparently, courtesy doesn’t apply when you’re a regular.)

(I am a manager for this store which sells clothing for “mature” women, so we get a lot of older customers. Today’s customer is an elderly woman with her daughter that my coworker is ringing through, while I am standing beside her bagging and keeping an eye on things.)

Customer: *holding jacket* “How much is this?”

Coworker: “That is $99.95.”

Customer: “I thought it was $50!”

Coworker: *scans the jacket just in case* “No, sorry, it’s $99.95, and it says so on the tag, see?”

Customer: “Okay, I’ll buy it, anyway.”

(Everything else goes fine from there, and the customer leaves. A few hours later I get a phone call.)

Me: “[Workplace], [My Name], how can I help you?”

Customer: “It’s [Customer]…”

Me: “Hi! Yes, I remember you from earlier. Is everything okay?”

Customer: “Do you enjoy stealing from old ladies?”

Me: “I’m sorry, what?”

Customer: “That jacket says $50 on the tag, and you charged me $100! You stole from me! I want you to send me a cheque for $50!

Me: “All right, I remember my coworker telling you it was $99.95, but let me just check the tags on the other ones to see if any say they’re $49.95.”

(All the jackets are $99.95, and they aren’t on clearance, so they can’t have been marked otherwise, and nothing displayed around them is $49.95, either.)

Me: “Sorry for the confusion, but they’re all marked $99.95, and you seemed okay with that price when you purchased it from [Coworker]. If you’d like, you can bring it back and I will check the price tag on yours and refund the difference if it is marked cheaper.”

Customer: “Is [Coworker] there now? I want to speak to her!”

(My coworker’s shift has ended, but only just, and she is watching me on the phone. I don’t want her to have to stay behind talking to some unreasonable old lady.)

Me: “Sorry, she’s left for the day.”

Customer: “I don’t believe you!”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but her shift ended at [time] and she is no longer here. As I said before, you’re welcome to bring it back and I can sort it out for you.”

Customer: “I live in a retirement home! I can’t just come back!”

Me: “Can the lady you were with today bring it back on your behalf?”

Customer: “No! She’s gone back to [Town two hours away]! You’re going to mail me a cheque for $50!”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, I can’t do that without seeing the price tag and checking everything myself. I can’t just send you $50.”

Customer: “You send me that cheque or I’m going to go to the authorities!”

Me: “Sorry, what?”

Customer: *hangs up*

(I never saw her again, and never saw any police, either!)

(I’m serving customers. We’re currently understaffed due to a miscommunication between managers, so I’m trying to be fast and keep the line down until the next staff member arrives. An older lady comes through my register and asks to pay by card, and I just know there’s going to be a problem.)

Customer #1: “It’s a new card; is that okay?”

Me: “Yeah, of course.”

Customer #1: *takes out a card and places it on the register* “I don’t know how to use it. You do it.”

(We’re not technically supposed to use the customer’s card on their behalf; however, it’s usually easier and more time-efficient to do so. We’ve been informed that the district manager will be visiting the store any minute now so I’m being very cautious of my behavior.)

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, I can’t do it for you, but I’ll help you. First, insert your card at the bottom, chip side in.” *[Customer #1] inserts the card incorrectly* “No, sorry, the other way.” *she corrects the card* “Okay, now select the account, type in your PIN, and press the green enter button.”

(She does all this, but she must input the wrong PIN number as the machine asks for her PIN again. Instead, she removes the card, which automatically cancels the transaction.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, because you’ve removed the card, the payment failed. Would you like to try again?”

Customer #1: “Oh, no, I don’t how to use this card!”

(By this time, a line has built up, so I radio desperately to my coworkers to help, including one whose shift hasn’t technically started yet. [Customer #2], who turns out to be [Customer #1]’s son, approaches my register.)

Customer #2: “Here, Mum, let me help. Why don’t you just use tap-and-go?”

Customer #1: “Oh, no. It’s a new card; I don’t know how to use it.” *to me* “What if I try my other card? I know how to use that one.”

Me: “Yeah, no worries.”

Customer #1: *swaps the first card for the second card* “Now, I don’t how to use this card.”

Me: *mentally face-palming* “Oh. Did you want to pay cash, then?”

Customer #2: “Here, Mum, let me just pay for it. You can give me the money later!”

Customer #1: “Oh, no, dear. I’ll just pay cash. It’s a new card, you see. I don’t know how to use it, you see.”

(She hands me the money and leaves, telling her son she’s heading to the car.)

Customer #2: “I’m so sorry about that!” *pays very quickly and leaves*

(It ended up taking ten minutes for her to pay. Her son paid in about twenty seconds!)

(I traveled with my family quite frequently growing up so I am generally well-prepared for going through security, except this one time. I am about fifteen and traveling with my parents. The security agent does all of their checks, passport, liquids, and laptops out, etc., and I have gone through the metal detector.)

Security Agent: “Is this your bag?”

Me: “Yes.”

Security Agent: “I am going to do a search through it.”

(They begin searching through my bag as I rack my brain to figure out what could be in it, and they pull out a small zipper pouch.)

Security Agent: “What do you have in here?”

Me: “String that I am using to make string bracelets…“

(I suddenly clue in to what else is in there right at the same time as he pulls them out: a pair of big kitchen scissors, the only ones I could find at home, which I had been using to cut the string. Cue me turning bright red at being that person in the airport security line.)

Me: “I am so sorry. I totally forgot that those were in there.”

Security Agent: “We are going to confiscate these, but try to be more careful in the future.”

(Thankfully, they realized that it was a genuine mistake and were good about it and didn’t put me on a secondary screening list for life or anything, but my parents, on the other hand, won’t let me live it down.)