(Note: I am a teenager.)

Me: “Hey, what can I help you with today?”

Customer: “I have these gift cards, and I would like to exchange them for cash.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I cant do that. It’s store policy, as gift cards have no monetary value.”

(People are starting to line up behind the customer, and they are starting to get noticeably agitated, having to wait.)

Customer: “Excuse me, do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?”

Me: “Not even a clue.”

Customer: “My father owns this store! Now give me my money, or I’ll have you fired!”

(The owner of the store is in the back, so I call him out.)

Me: “Boss, your daughter’s here to see you!”

Boss: “Daughter? I don’t have a daughter.”

(The customer’s face is growing red, and the people behind her start to laugh. I can tell she wants to run away, but she’s in too deep. My boss comes to the front to see what’s going on. My boss is an Indian man in his 60′s.)

Boss: “What are you talking about?”

Me: “This lady right here.”

(The white customer in her early 20s dips her head, and runs out of the store.)

Boss: “Maybe she forgot where her dad’s store is?”

(I’m helping a couple of regulars with finding ingredients for a new recipe. One of them is blind, and has his guide dog with him. Another customer stomps up to us while I am showing them different spices.)

Customer #1: “Excuse me! I need your help.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, but you’ll have to wait until I’m done helping these gentlemen.”

Customer #1: “No, I need help now!”

Me: “Then if you’d like, I can call one of my coworkers over and they can help you.”

Customer #1: “I don’t want you to call someone else.”

Me: “Then you will have to wait.”

(I turn back to the regulars. The rude customer shoves her way between me and them, stepping on the guide dog’s tail in the process. The dog gives a shrill yelp.)

Me: “Ma’am, please! You could have seriously hurt his dog!”

(Customer #1 shoves the dog aside with her foot.)

Customer #1: “I’m the customer! You have to serve me!”

Regular Customer: “Miss, she has explained to you that she’s busy, and has offered to call someone else to help you. Don’t shout at her, and please don’t abuse my husband’s guide dog.”

(Customer #1 turns to him. The regular customer has an obvious Italian accent, but he isn’t difficult to understand.)

Customer #1: “Get out of here, you d*** foreigner! Don’t come back until you learn some f****** English!”

Me: “Ma’am, he is speaking perfect English. Now if you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

(Customer #1 shoves me. I lose my balance, and fall. Immediately, the regular customer, who is a well-known boxer in the local area and quite strong, literally picks up customer #1 and carries her out of the store. She screams profanities and slurs at him the whole way. His partner helps me up, and I pay for their spices myself. I also get the guide dog a large steak bone, for when she is out of her harness. The best part? We found out later that the rude customer was wanted for armed robbery, and that she was arrested that day!)

(I have very long hair, which I wear in a tight bun per regulation, and I am quite obviously female. A customer walks up to me, but my back is turned.)

Customer: “Sir?”

(I continue my work, thinking she’s talking to a coworker nearby.)

Customer: “Sir?”

(I still don’t pay attention, so the customer taps my shoulder.)

Customer: “Sir?”

(I turn around.)

Me: “How can I help you?”

(The customer is clearly surprised.)

Customer: “Sorry! Can you tell me where [item] is?”

(I point the customer in the right direction. Later on, I’m cleaning one of the registers. The same customer walks up to me.)

Customer: “Sorry about before. I really thought you were a guy.”

Me: “That’s okay.”

Customer: “You should really doing something about that hair. It makes you look too masculine.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Customer: “You look like one of those metal heads.”

Me: “Since when do metal heads wear their hair in buns?”

Customer: “Never, but you still look like one!”

(It is just after the release of the video game ‘Playboy Mansion’. In Australia, there is surprisingly no required age limit for the game; it comes with a recommendation only for 18+. A customer approaches the counter with a small boy beside her. She is carrying a copy of the game.)

Me: “Good morning, just that today is it?”

(I indicate the game, and the customer nods.)

Customer: “Yup!”

Me: “I just have to check that you are purchasing this either for yourself, or someone who is over 18. Though there is no legal requirement to be over 18, I must warn it has graphic content and adult themes.”

Customer: “No, it’s for him, but it’ll be alright. He’s eight, but I’ve said it’s okay.”

Me: “I must warn you this game is entirely inappropriate for someone so young.”

(I detail the contents of the game. However, the customer doesn’t bat an eyelid.)

Customer: “It’s still okay. I’d like to buy it for him.”

(I cannot bring myself to cater to this customer, so the manager sells the game to her instead. The customer is about to leave, and I approach her.)

Me: “If you view the game and you’re unhappy, you can return it to us within 30 days for an exchange.”

(The customer is reasonably pleasant about this but keeps dismissing my concerns. The boy skips off happily with her. Two days later, she returns with the boy in tow again.)

Customer: “I’ve come to return this game; I need to get something better for him. It’s not right for him at all.”

Me: “Sure thing. I had a feeling you wouldn’t be happy with it once you saw the content of the game. Sometimes it’s hard to explain just how graphic some of these games can be.”

Customer: “Nah, the game was fine, but you should have warned us about how much reading he’d have to do. There’s far too much to read, and he’s only eight. His reading’s not that good yet. There really ought to be warning stickers for this sort of thing. Have you got anything easier?”

(I work at a small coffee shop outside a shopping center. There is a regular who is known for being very rude and ignorant about his wealth. I am a 17-year-old girl, who has recently got this job.)

Me: “Hello, sir, welcome to [coffee shop], what woul—”

Regular: *aggressively* “Coffee!”

Me: “Okay, what ki—”

Regular: “Dumb b**** lowlife! I said coffee!”

Me: “Sir, please don’t use that language here.”

Regular: “For f***’s sake! This is why I am rich, and you work at a dump like this! Probably so you can buy your drug money!”

Me: “Sir, I—”

Regular: “B****! WE SHOULD TAKE ALL YOU LOWLIFES, AND BURY YOU LIKE MAGGOTS!”

Me: *tearing up* “Sir, plea—”

Regular: “SHUT UP YOU FILTHY W**** B****! AND MAKE ME MY D*** COFFEE!”

(My manager comes running out to see what’s going on. Before he can speak up, a small old lady next in line starts speaking.)

Old Woman: “Now listen here, you ignorant rat! This woman has barely had a chance to speak! If we did what you said, and got rid of the lower classes, who would change your god-d*** diapers, and make you your morning cup of coffee?”

Regular: “D*** you! I uh…” *turning to me* “I want my coffee, NOW!”

Manager: “NO, YOU CAN LEAVE MY STORE BEFORE I CALL THE COPS!”

(The regular turns even more red, and runs out of the store. My manager gives me the rest of the day off, as well as a free meal. The old woman also leaves me a $20 tip!)

(I work security at a light rail. The last light rail heading south comes through my station at 11:38 pm. It is currently 11:50 pm.)

Patron: “Excuse me, officer, when is the next light rail heading south supposed to come?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, the last light rail heading south left at 11:38. There are no more running till tomorrow morning at 5:30 am.”

Patron: “Bull-s***! I always catch the light rail later than this. You are full of s***! Just tell me when the next one is coming.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, their are no more coming tonight. I have been working at this particular station for six months, and can assure you that no more are coming tonight.”

Patron: “Well, how the h*** are you getting home?”

Me: “Well sir, when my shift ends, I drive myself home.”

Patron: “Well, you’re gonna have to drive me home then.”

Me: “Sorry, sir, I will not be able to do that. If you would like I can call you a cab. But there are no more light rails heading south tonight.”

Patron: “Aren’t you security? You have to give me a ride home. It’s not my fault the f****** light rail stopped running early. Give me a f****** ride home.”

Me: “No, sir, I will not give you a ride home. Unfortunately there are no light rails running south anymore, and if you are not catching the light rail north or east, I am going to have to ask you to leave, due to a no loitering law on the light rail stations.”

Patron: “Bull-s***! I ain’t going nowhere if you don’t give me a ride!”

Me: “Sir, if you refuse to leave, I am going to be forced to radio the light rail police.”

Patron: “Call the mother-f****** police. I don’t give a f***!”

(I go through with his “request” to call the police. When they arrive, he demands they give him a ride, and continues to refuse to leave. They end up giving him a ride—to jail.)

(I work in the parking lot, helping customers load their vehicles and push carts back to where they belong. I am the only one out on the lot at the moment. A boy runs out into the lot next to me, into the middle of the road.)

Boy: “Die bug!”

(I see something moving out of the corner of my eye. When I look, there’s a car driving very fast through the lot. It is heading straight for the boy.)

Me: “Oh, crap!”

(I run into the road, pick up the child, and dive out of the way. I use my body as a cushion for him. My back hits a rack of plants, knocking them over, and sending pain through my back. The boy’s mother comes rushing over.)

Boy’s Mother: “Oh, my God! WHAT THE H*** ARE YOU DOING WITH MY CHILD!?”

Me: “First of all, I’m okay, and so is he. Second of all, he just about got ran over.”

(I painfully stand up, and let the child go to his mother, who clings to her.)

Boy’s Mother: “I want to see your manager now!”

Me: “Certainly, ma’am.”

(I go and find my manager, and explain to her what happened. The manager understands and goes to the service desk where the boy and his mother now wait. I follow behind and listen in.)

Manager: “So, I hear you have a problem with one of my employees?”

Boy’s Mother: “You’re d*** right I do! He tried to steal my baby!”

Manager: “I assure you that’s not what happened. From what my employee has told me, he saw the child run into the street, chasing a bug. He noticed a car driving at unsafe speeds through the parking lot at the child.”

Boy’s Mother: “That’s what he wants you to think!! I saw no car!”

Manager: “What happened when you noticed my employee with your child?”

Boy’s Mother: “He knocked over the plant racks out front with his back!”

Manager: “And he did this while holding your child?”

Boy’s Mother: “YES! You get it!”

Manager: “Not quite. Follow me with this please. Why would my employee do that when he has the most chance of getting caught? It would draw a lot of attention to himself.”

Boy’s Mother: “He… he was… I don’t know.”

Manager: “The only reason I could think of him doing that is if he had to get out of the way of something fast. Or, if your child was in danger of being hit by a car going 40 miles per hour through the parking lot.”

Boy’s Mother: “Well maybe you should control the cars speeding through your lot more! Hmph!”

(She takes her son and walks out in a huff. Later on, at the end of my shift, the mother and her son approach me on the way out.)

Boy’s Mother: “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!”

Me: “Ma’am, I promise you; I wasn’t trying to kidnap your child!”

Boy’s Mother: “I know that. But my son has something to say to you.”

Boy: “Thank you for saving my life.”

(He hands me a thank you card.)

Me: “No problem, little man. Promise me something?”

Boy: “Okay?”

Me: “Don’t go playing in the street. When you go somewhere, stay next to your mom. That’s the safest place you can be. Can you do that?”

Boy: “I promise!”

Boy’s Mother: “Thank you again. I can’t thank you enough. I also came back to talk to your manager. Are you on lunch?”

Me: “I’m off work now, actually.”

Boy’s Mother: “Good, then I can make it a surprise!”

(The mother walks into the store. I wonder what she means, but I figure I’ll find out the next day, and go home. The next day, I open up the store, and find out from my manager that someone gave me a glowing review of my work ethics!)

(I am a female butcher. The butchery/preparation room is separated from the service area. I bring out a customer their meat, which is a whole beef tenderloin. It comes to almost 49€ per kilo. A moment later the sales girl comes into the preparation room.)

Sales Girl: “Hey, you just sold the customer some tenderloin for over 100€, right?”

Me: “Yes I did; is there a problem? He wanted the whole tenderloin.”

Sales Girl: “He’s saying he never ordered anything. The store manager just grabbed him at the register, because he knew that customer bought something, but he didn’t pay for anything.”

Me: “Oh, but I sold him the whole tenderloin, and it’s vacuum-packed.”

(The store manager walks up to the counter, with the customer in question. One of the customer’s trouser legs is a bit more ‘filled’ than the other.)

Customer: “She’s lying! I never bought anything!”

Me: “Sir, I sold you a whole beef tenderloin. And… I think you hid it in your trousers.”

(The customer denies, but the store manager threatens to call the police. The customer drops his pants in front of all employees and customers. He pulls out the whole tenderloin, still vacuum packed, and throws it into my face, then storms out. We get rid of the package pretty fast, and I get an icepack for my nose!)

(I am helping a customer set up service at a new address for a friend of hers. I have to collect her installation charge, first month, and a deposit upfront.)

Me: “Alright, I just need the total of $123.”

(The customer hands me a $20 bill and two $10 bills.)

Customer: “There, that should cover it.”

Me: “Oh, I only have $40 here, ma’am. I need $123.”

Customer: “Yep, it should all be there!”

Me: “I’m sorry; there’s not enough here yet.”

(The customer digs into her pocket, and hands me some more cash.)

Me: “Thank you. That’s only $3 more though. I still need $80.”

Customer: *grunts* “Alright fine, but now I’m giving you my money!

Me: “Alright thank you, but now I still only have $46. I still need $77 more.”

Customer: “Okay, give me all the money back.”

(I hand the customer the money back, and she takes out a wad of cash. She pulls out three $20 bills, and hands them to me.)

Customer: “There! Should have it all now!”

(The customer is beaming with pride at finding what she thinks is the right amount.)

Me: “You know, I think we can just bill you for the rest of it.”

Customer: “Gah! Give the money back again!”

(I hand the money back, and the customer searches around for a moment, and hands me a $100 bill.)

Me: “Great! I just need $23 more.”

(The customer hands me a $20 bill, and then stares at me.)

Me: “Good, just another $3.”

(The customer hands me three $1 bills again.)

Me: “Perfect! Here’s your receipt; we’ll see you on Friday!”

(The customer leaves, and I search the office for hidden cameras.)

Related:
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 18
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 17
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 16
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 15
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 14
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 13
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 12

Me: “Here is your coffee, sir.”

Customer: “Oh, could you add more milk to that?”

Me: “Sure.”

(Since the coffee cup is already full, I walk over to the sink to pour a little out before adding more milk.)

Customer: “Stop that! I didn’t say to pour any out!”

Me: “Sir, the cup was full. In order to add more milk, I have to pour a little coffee out.”

Customer: “You should obey what your customers tell you!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but sometimes I have to obey the laws of physics instead.”