(I overhear this exchange between a new coworker of mine and a customer.)

New Coworker: “Okay, so I need to see your license for that beer.”

Customer: “Well, my license got revoked, but I have a passport here.” *presents her passport*

New Coworker: “No, I don’t think that will work. It has to be a state-issued ID.”

Me: “…[Coworker], for the love of all that is holy: ‘state issued’ means issued by the GOVERNMENT, not the actual state of Colorado.”

New Coworker: “No, I don’t think that’s what it means.”

Me: “I assure you that one of the many definitions of ‘state’ is ‘government.’ A passport is definitely issued by the government.”

New Coworker: “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound right.”

Me: “Yeah, I have a passport. They’re issued by the federal government.”

New Coworker: “But not the state.”

Me: “The government IS the state!”

New Coworker: “I don’t see how the government could be Colorado.”

Me: *facepalm*

(I’m at the register and buying tampons. When the clerk rings me up, he picks up them up with the tips of his fingers, like they are covered in poison, and makes a disgusted face.)

Clerk: “Do you want a bag for these?”

Me: “No thanks, I’ll just put them in my—”

Clerk: *winces, squeals and claps his hands over his ears*

Me: “—in my PURSE. PURSE. Jeez, dude!”

(He breathes a deep sigh of relief. I get out of there as fast as I can. I didn’t see him there the next time; apparently he couldn’t cope with handling feminine products!)

(A little girl walks up to the counter with a handful of cards.)

Little Girl: “Excuse me! Miss, I have a question.”

Cashier: “What is it, sweetheart?”

Little Girl: “Well, my best friend’s moms just got married and I want to give them a card, but none of these are right.”

Cashier: *looks at cards* “What do you mean? They all have happy couples on them.”

Little Girl: “But none of them have two girls. I can’t give them a card with a guy on it. That’d be insulting.”

Cashier: “…Two women?! Young lady! Homosexuality is a sin! You should be ashamed for promoting it!”

Little Girl: “But I just want to give them a card.”

Cashier: “They don’t need any cards, those monsters! Polluting the minds of innocent children like you!” *snatches cards away* “I won’t sell you anything if it’s for those heathens!”

(The little girl looks close to tears. A young woman, probably early twenties walks up to her. The little girl throws herself at the woman.)

Woman: “Hey, what’s wrong? I thought you were going to find a card for Lisa’s parents.”

Little Girl: *in tears* “She said that Lisa’s mommy’s were heathens, and a bunch of other mean stuff!”

Woman: *to the cashier* “Who asked for you opinion exactly?!”

Cashier: “No wonder the girl’s so messed up. Teen mothers are going to h*** along with the f**s!”

Woman: “Not that it matters, but one, she’s my sister, two, I’m sterile, and three, there is nothing wrong with my sister. She is a brilliant little girl, while you’re just a bigoted b****.”

(The cashier opens her mouth, but the woman cuts her off.)

Woman: “Furthermore, the women she’s buying the card for probably do more good in the world than you ever have or will. But don’t worry, it doesn’t stop there, you cranky old woman. I will be coming back and reporting you to your manager because you don’t deserve to be seen in public.”

(She picks the girl up, and shows the cashier an engagement ring.)

Woman: “And, just to push your buttons even more, I’m engaged to a trans man, and he is better than you could ever hope to meet or get.” *waltzes out*

(I’m at the store near my house, buying a six-pack of beer. I’m partially blind, but know my neighborhood well, and buy my beer/soda/snacks there regularly. This day, there is a new clerk.)

Clerk: “I’ll need to see your driver’s license for the beer, please.”

Me: “Sure thing, boss!”

(I hand over my state issued ID, which is different from a driver’s license.)

Clerk: “This isn’t a driver’s license. You said you had a driver’s license.”

Me: “This is a state issued ID. It functions exactly like a driver’s license for most purposes, except for driving.”

Clerk: “So, you’re a drunk driver, and they took your driver’s license away? I shouldn’t be selling beer to an alcoholic.”

Me: “No, I never had a driver’s license. I’m blind, I can’t drive.”

Clerk: “…because they took your license away. I don’t think I should sell this to you. You’ll wind up killing someone, and it’ll be my fault.”

(By this time, the owner realizes what’s going on and speaks up.)

Owner: “Just sell [my name] the **** beer!”

Related:
Not Seeing Eye To Eye

(I am working the tills when the rubbish men come to take the waste from the shop. I can’t leave the storefront, so I call my assistant manager but she doesn’t answer. I finally find her, walking out of the toilets after twenty minutes.)

Assistant Manager: “You can’t leave the shop floor.”

Me: “You weren’t answering the phone. The waste guy is getting angry.”

Assistant Manager: “You can’t leave the shop floor.”

Me: “But I had to tell you.”

Assistant Manager: “Don’t leave the shop floor. Call the phone next time.”

(Thankfully this all gets resolved. Later that day, however, one of the tills stops working in the middle of a customer’s transaction. There’s a very long queue of other customers behind her.)

Me: “I’m very sorry. The till has frozen. Is it okay if I call my manager and take the rest of the customers on the other till?”

Customer #1: “How long will it be?”

Me: “I’m sure it won’t be long…”

(Unfortunately, it ends up taking quite long. I call the assistant manager five times while juggling a line of 10 customers, and have to move all of them to a second till while the first customer continues to wait impatiently. When I check on the office camera, I see my assistant manager in her office on her mobile phone eating cake. I am nearly in tears by the time she finally comes out to fix the till. She does so, but leaves immediately without helping me with the remaining customers. At this point, another customer, Customer #2, approaches.)

Me: *to Customer #2* “Is that all for today?”

Customer #2: “Are you okay, poppet?”

Me: “Yeah. It’s just stressful, you know?”

(At this point, I see the assistant manager cross the shop floor and walk outside for a smoke with her boyfriend.)

Customer #2: “Did she just leave you here alone?”

Me: “I’ll be fine. Sorry, did you want anything else?”

Customer #2: “Yes.”

(Customer #2 pushes a chocolate bar across the table. I scan it and he pays. Before he leaves, he puts the chocolate bar in my hands.)

Customer #2: “Have a great day, darling.”

(I can honestly say that that was one of the most stressful days of my life, but it was made slightly easier by good customers.)