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My own four favorite memories of customers from my retail servitude days are:

The guy who called to have us reserve a book for him. It was a bestseller, and I had a stack of them on the service counter. He came in, and even though we had put one at the info desk with his name on it, I had a long line and when he asked for his copy, I gave him one from the stack beside me, and he screamed that he wanted the one we'd reserved for him. You know, the one I'd taken from that stack and put at the info desk.

Or, the guy who presented an expired book club card and demanded his discount. I told him it was expired by 5 months, and he screamed that he'd never made use of the card, tore up the card and threw it in my face.

Or, the woman who accused me of being part of the jewish cabal ruining the country after I refused to give her money for a book she carried to the counter and claimed she'd bought and wanted to return. With no receipt.

Or, the guy who would go the remainder book table, peal the stickers and put them on other books and then think we wouldn't know the difference.