CUSTOMER MOCKED ME BECAUSE I WORK AS A CASHIER AT THE GROCERY STORE
I’m a single mom of three kids and work as a cashier at the grocery store. Yesterday, a mother with two children came to our supermarket. She was dressed in expensive designer clothes, as were her two teenage children.
When she came to the register and I started ringing up her groceries, she suddenly said, “WHAT’S WITH THE FACE, DEAR? WHY AREN’T YOU SMILING AT YOUR CUSTOMER?”
I’d been working all day and apparently hadn’t noticed that I forgot to smile. “I’m sorry,” I said to her. Then, I smiled at her and continued to serve her. But she loudly laughed and said:
“I’D HAVE THAT FACE TOO IF I WORKED AS A CASHIER. YOU LOOK LIKE THAT BECAUSE YOU EARN SO LITTLE, LOSER.”
All the other customers in line looked shocked, while I turned red from embarrassment. As I finished with the woman’s purchase, karma came around quickly for her. Just a minute after her rude comments, she screamed, “That’s impossible! This must be a mistake!”
The woman had been going through her wallet, looking for her credit card, and when she finally swiped it, the screen showed a message: Card Declined. Her face, which had been full of smug superiority just a moment ago, was now flushed with confusion and anger.
“Try it again!” she snapped, shoving the card back into my hand. I could see her two teenage children starting to squirm, clearly embarrassed by the scene their mother was making. I tried to remain calm and professional, even though a part of me felt a small, guilty satisfaction. I swiped her card again, but the same message flashed on the screen.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Your card has been declined. Do you have another form of payment?”
She looked like she was about to explode. “This is ridiculous!” she spat, digging through her expensive purse, throwing out various cards, receipts, and makeup items as she searched. “I have plenty of money! This store must be having a problem with the machine.”
I glanced at the line of customers behind her. They were watching the scene unfold, some of them whispering to each other, while others looked visibly uncomfortable. The woman’s two teenagers were glancing at the floor, pretending they didn’t know her. I could feel all eyes on me, but I kept my composure.
“Ma’am, I can call a manager over if you’d like,” I offered, still trying to handle the situation as gracefully as I could. “Or you could try another card.”
The woman hesitated for a moment, then angrily thrust a different card toward me. “This one will work,” she said, but she didn’t sound confident. I could see her hands shaking slightly as I took the card and swiped it.
Declined.
She let out a frustrated scream, and I heard a few gasps from the people behind her. “This is insane!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the store. “I’m not paying for these groceries twice! Do you know who I am?”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but instead, I simply said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t authorize the transaction if the card is declined. Do you have cash?”
The woman looked as though I’d just insulted her. “Cash?” she repeated, as if the word itself was beneath her. She checked her wallet again, frantically searching for anything to prove that she wasn’t in the situation she clearly was in. But she came up empty-handed, and for the first time, her confidence seemed to waver.
Finally, one of her children, a teenage girl, stepped forward. “Mom, just stop,” she said quietly, tugging on her mother’s sleeve. “Can we just go? This is embarrassing.”
The woman glared at her daughter, but she didn’t say anything. She looked around at the line of people, who were now watching her with a mix of pity and disdain. Finally, she turned back to me, her face red with humiliation.
“I’ll come back for these later,” she muttered, grabbing her purse and turning to leave. But as she took a step away from the register, she stumbled, and her phone fell out of her purse and clattered to the floor.
I reached down to pick it up and handed it back to her, and as I did, I said softly, “I hope your day gets better, ma’am.” I could see her expression change. For a moment, she looked as though she might cry, and I wondered if there was more to her story than just a bad attitude.
She didn’t respond, but she took her phone and left, her kids trailing behind her. The moment she was gone, the tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and I felt a hand gently touch my shoulder. I turned to see one of the regular customers, a kind elderly woman named Mrs. Reynolds, who always bought flowers for her garden.
“You handled that very well, dear,” she said with a warm smile. “Some people just have to tear others down to feel good about themselves. But you kept your head high, and that’s something to be proud of.”
I smiled at her, and for the first time that day, it felt genuine. “Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
As I continued ringing up the next few customers, the day went on as usual. But about an hour later, something unexpected happened. The woman from before came back, but this time, she wasn’t carrying her purse or groceries. She walked up to my register, looking a little more composed but still clearly embarrassed.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly. “I… I wanted to apologize for earlier. That wasn’t fair of me, and I’m sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you.”
I was taken aback. The last thing I expected was an apology, but I appreciated it nonetheless. “Thank you for saying that,” I replied. “It’s okay. We all have bad days.”
She nodded, looking down at her hands. “I’m… going through some things right now, and that’s not an excuse, but… well, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
I wanted to say something to make her feel better, but before I could, she pulled out a small folded piece of paper and handed it to me. “Here,” she said. “Please, take this.”
I hesitated, but she insisted, so I opened the paper. Inside was a $100 bill. “I can’t take this,” I said, pushing it back toward her.
“Please,” she said, her voice softer now. “It’s not just about the money. It’s my way of trying to make things right, even if it’s just a little. You treated me with more kindness than I deserved, and that’s rare. Please.”
I could see that she genuinely meant it, so I accepted the bill, but I had an idea. “Thank you,” I said, “but I have a better idea. How about I use this to buy groceries for a few families who are struggling? It’s been a tough year for a lot of people.”
She looked surprised, and then she smiled, a real smile this time. “I’d like that,” she said. “I really would.”
As she turned to leave, she glanced back at me. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything.” And with that, she walked away, her posture a little less rigid, her expression a little softer.
The rest of the day felt lighter. I used the $100 to buy groceries for a young single dad who came in with his toddler, and for an elderly couple who struggled with their grocery bill every week. When I handed them their groceries, I didn’t mention where the money had come from, but I felt a small sense of satisfaction knowing that something good had come out of an unpleasant situation.
Maybe the woman would never know how much her gesture had impacted others, but I hoped it was a step in the right direction for her, just as it had been for me. Sometimes, life has a way of surprising us, and what starts out as a moment of hurt can turn into a lesson in empathy and kindness.
