(At the express lane, I am being checked out by the store’s slowest cashier.)

Cashier: “Your total is $10.39.”

Me: “Okay, here’s $11.14.”

Cashier: *looks back and forth between my money and me* “The total is $10.39?”

Me: “Right, and that’s $11.14. I get 75 cents change back.”

Cashier: *dumbfounded, but types in $11.14 and is amazed when I get 75 cents change*

(I start to walk away when he calls out:)

Cashier: “How did you KNOW that?!”

(I’m standing in line waiting to check out at the grocery store. I ask for a pack of cigarettes along with my purchase, and the cashier turns to get them. It should be noted that I am 23 years old at the time. As he turns, I hear a familiar voice from the customer behind me in line. It’s my uncle.)

Uncle: *clearly joking* “Hey, don’t sell those to her; she’s underage!”

Me: *laughing* “Fancy meeting you here! How are you?”

Cashier: “Ma’am, I need to see your ID for these.”

Me: “Sure.” *hands over license*

Cashier: *looks at ID and hands it back* “I’m sorry, ma’am, you need to be 18 to buy tobacco products.”

Me: “I’m 23.” *hands my ID back to him again*

Uncle: “I was joking before. She is not underage.”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you need to be 18.” *shoves my ID back at me again*

Me: “I’m 23… unless you are suggesting that I need to be EXACTLY 18 to buy cigarettes…”

Cashier: “No, you need to be older than 18.” *pauses* “Let me see that ID again.”

Me: *hands over the ID again*

(He studies it for an uncomfortable length of time. My uncle and I are dumbfounded. Finally he hands it back. He seemed satisfied that I am in fact old enough to buy tobacco products. I complete my purchase and wait for my uncle so we can chat.)

Uncle: “May I have a pack of Marlboro Lights, please.”

Me: “Check that ID; I don’t think he’s 18.” *laughing*

Cashier: *chuckling* “I’m so bad at math.”

(Our new cashier is a little ditzy. He is talking to the floor manager when a customer walks up to his register. It should be noted that he and the manager are not chatting, but talking about work and are not friends outside of work.)

Manager: “[Cashier], check out that woman.”

Cashier: *exaggerated look up and down her body* “Nice!”

Manager: “[Cashier], ring her UP!”

(A meet-and-greet is full of older male doctors and a male pharmaceutical rep. Note I am female and in my 30s. Also, nurses don’t attend these events as a rule.)

Me: “Hello.”

Rep: “Hi. You must be one of the nurses.”

Me: “Ah, no. I am one of the doctors. Welcome to the 21st century.”

(He did apologise!)

(I stop in to an auto store to pick up some motor oil, and notice that the high mileage brand I usually buy is on sale: “five quarts plus oil filter, $24.99.” That is a very good price even for the oil alone, so I grab five of them. I get to the register and put the five bottles of oil on the counter.)

Me: “Can I just buy these five quarts of oil and get the special price?”

Cashier: “No, you need to get a filter with it.”

Me: “Well, how much are these without the filter?”

Cashier: *scanning the oil* “$37.”

Me: “Can’t we just pretend I bought a filter? I really don’t need the filter.”

Cashier: “No, I have to ring up the filter.”

Me: “Well, okay, just put a filter on the check, and I’ll leave with just the oil, and then you can sell the filter to someone else. I don’t want the filter.”

Cashier: “Okay. What make of car?”

Me: “Please, I don’t want to go through the whole interview. Just pick a random filter off the shelf. I DON’T NEED THE FILTER.”

(The cashier went to the oil aisle, returned with an oil filter, rang up the filter and the same five bottles of oil again, which now cost twelve dollars less. I tried to leave the “random oil filter” behind on the counter when I departed, really not wanting it to go to waste, but the cashier insisted I had to take it with me!)