Realising he was going to serve me next, as the other staff member was still busy, I leaned over to my husband and whispered "I'm going to make sure he gives me what I ask for." Because hey, if it's up to 50g under or over for something like a kilo, who cares? But being too lazy to make sure it's even near the mark is not cool. So, I order 100g of diced bacon. The guy meanders over to the diced things, and stares for a moment. "This one?" he says, pointing to the only diced bacon on the shelf. "Yep" I replied. He grabbed a handful, chucked it on the scales, and it flashed 144g, but before I could say anything, he whisked it into the paper and chucked it on the counter, before turning to talk to his co-worker. I tried to look to see what his name was, because if I could find a comment form I was going to say something, but he talked to her for ages whilst standing sideways, so I couldn't see it without looking obvious.
Mild, I know, but it's annoying, especially as the other people I've encountered there have been ridiculously cheerful, chatty and accurate.