(I’m the only employee still working a cash register late one night. I’ve got a long line, and the next customer keeps glaring at me.)

Me: “Hello, miss, sorry about the wait. Did you find everything all right?”

Customer: “I’m so sick of you people.”

Me: “Of who?”

Customer: “First, that awful girl stacking the shelves with the pink hair, and now you with that… thing on your face! Why are you brats so desperate for attention?”

(Two years ago, I lost my right eye in an accident. I wear an eyepatch now.)

Me: “Ma’am, that’s not a fashion statement, I really need—”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me!”

(Without warning, she lunges across the counter and grabs the patch, snapping the cord and pulling it off. She laughs with triumph for about a second before she sees my empty eye socket.)

Customer: *screams and runs out of the store, leaving her items but taking the eyepatch*

(That customer never came back. Fortunately, I have a lot of spare eyepatches, but I had to finish the rest of my shift that night with a paper bandage over the socket.)