(I am the dumb customer this time. I was in middle school or so, and had just started babysitting for my mom’s theater group when I’d decided I needed a new charger and headphones for my iPod at the time. This is one of the first few times I’d ever bought something for myself. My mom had gone into the store to keep me from overspending.)

Associate: “Okay, and will that be everything for you today?”

Me: “Yes, please.”

Associate: “Great! That’ll be $40.56”

Me: *hands the associate $30 because I’m just not paying that much attention; I was very nervous at the time)*

Associate: “Um. The total is $40.56”

Me: *still not thinking and nervous* “Yeah.”

Mom: “Honey, give her the other $20. You only gave her $30.”

Me: “What?” *realizing and turning bright red* “Oh! I’m so sorry!” *hands over the other $20*

(Thank you, patient associate, for letting me be a space cadet!)

I took two weeks off to get married and returned to work 10/21. Within the first few days a young African woman came in. Since I don’t know her name, I shall refer to her as A.

When A saw me at register, she rolled her eyes and asked if I was going to card her. I responded by stating company policy that all customers are carded until 27 and asked her age. She called me a bitch and told me she was 25. A then left the store without purchasing anything.

On 10/23, A returned to the store and saw me mopping. She proceeded to kick over the wet floor cones and called me a bitch again. As I was checking her and her partner out, she berated me and insulted me. According to her, I was so polite it was rude and offensive and I should remember her as being legally able to smoke.

I attempted to explain that I didn’t remember seeing her ID and that if she wanted a manager I could get one. A left before the manager could come up.

On 10/25, she came into the store around 11:40pm. She and her partner bought a single soda and left the store without much incident. Only a few minutes later, her partner returned and told me there was no gas on pump 9. I printed out the receipt and told him that no gas was purchased.

He left and returned with A. She proceeded to tell me that she paid for the gas and refused to listen when I showed her the receipt. She called me all sorts of names and told me I had to put the gas on the pump. After a few minutes of this, I radioed for help and informed her that I was under no obligation to help her further as she was verbally assaulting me.

A then called me a cunt and told me that I would be better off dead. It was at this point that I left register and T, the MOD, arrived. I had to return to check customers out as Tim was now arguing with A and attempting to explain there was no record of her pumping gas.

I offered to give T a few dollars to pay for their gas as I know what it’s like to be broke. A must have over heard me whisper to him as she proceeded to tell me that she was going to shove my money up my ass and beat me to a pulp. I was again called a bitch, a cunt and other names as I walked away.

I left the sales floor while A yelled at T and finally bullied him into putting the 20$ onto pump 9. There was no record of her paying for gas ever found.

On 10/26, the general manager accused me of enjoying drama and intentionally making his life more difficult. I was already upset, despite it being hours after the incident, and his anger towards me resulted in my crying.

Customer: *comes up with multiple potted plants* They told me you know how to bag these correctly.
Me: Who is they?
Customer: They told me you know how to bag these correctly.
Me: Well how would you like me to bag them?
Customer: *getting incredibly irritated because I don’t understand her crypticness*
Me: From the bottom or over the top? (our floral girl has told us that to protect the tops of the plants we should bag over the plant instead of around the pot) and would you like paper or plastic?
Customer: *speaking slowly so I understand her* Well I think putting them in plastic will keep them from spilling don’t you?
Me: (puts plants in bags. They’re rather large so attempting to tie the tops would hurt the plants) Ok that will be $xxx.
Customer: *screaming* these will tip and make a mess! They told me you knew how to bag these correctly!
Me: I bagged the the way you said you wanted them bagged. You wouldn’t even tell me how “they” are so I couldn’t even ask what they meant.

My customer then stormed out of the store saying she would never shop here again. Promises, promises.

I’m on a city bus when all of a sudden the driver slams on the breaks. All eyes go to the front of the bus where a biker has planted himself in the middle of the lane, facing down the bus. We’re nowhere near a scheduled stop, the road is busy, and the guy must have swerved across two lanes in order to face off with our bus.

Driver: * throws his hands up in the air* Seriously? What is your problem??

Biker: *motions that he wants to get on the bus*

Driver: Seriously? No. No! *shakes his head vigorously because the guy can’t hear him*

Biker: *smiles and gives a thumbs-up, then starts putting his bike on the rack*

Driver: NO! *shakes his head and waves his arm, but the biker isn’t looking*

Biker: *has secured his bike and looks to the driver with a grin*

Driver: *shakes his head again*

Biker: *frowns and goes back to his bike, but instead of taking it off the rack, he just turns it the other way, then gives the driver a thumbs up and moves to the door*

Driver: *scowls at him*

Biker: *motions for him to open the door*

Driver: *Shakes his head.*

Biker: …

Driver: …

Biker: *mouths through the door* Seriously??

Driver: Seriously. *Gestures for him to leave*

Biker: *dejectedly gets his bike off the rack and pedals away*

(The craft store I work at sells leather cord by the foot. The customers cut it themselves and fill out a sheet saying how much they cut. These sheets are in the same basket as the cutters, with a sign that says the price per foot, that it is sold by the foot, and how to measure. There is also a ruler with a sign that says to cut whole feet lengths only. It is not possible to touch the cutters without reaching behind this sign. A girl comes up to my checkstand with several items, including a few lengths of leather)

Me: Do you have the sheet for this?
Customer: *blank stare*
Me: That you wrote the measurements on?
Customer: Oh, I didn’t measure it.
Me: *blank stare* I’m not sure how to…sell it…without the sheet.

(I called a more experienced coworker over to help. The lengths she cut weren’t full feet, so we had to do a complicated inventory adjustment, and in the end she had 8 feet at almost $3 a foot. She paid and left. Twenty minutes pass and then she’s back)

Customer: Can I return this? It was a lot more than I thought it’d be.

(It took everything I had to ask how much she thought it’d be, based on how many signs she had to ignore)