(I’m training at the back of a sandwich store with a coworker, when we notice that our other coworker on service needs help. Note: we have a promotion that makes any foot-long sandwich $6.00 between 11 pm and 11 am.)

Customer: “No! How much is that?! [Your coworker] just said ‘no’!”

Me: “Pardon me, miss, what seems to be the—”

Customer: “You have a sign outside that says every sub is six dollars.”

Me: “Yes, that’s true.”

Customer: “But she just said ‘no’!”

Coworker: “Miss, all foot-long subs -are- six dollars right now.”

(Suddenly, the customer lunges at my colleague. Her boyfriend immediately grabs her and pulls her to him.)

Customer’s Boyfriend: “Babe, calm down.”

Customer: “…Okay. Look: my boyfriend just asked if my sub was the same price. And you said no.”

Coworker: “Right! Yes. Because your sub is a six inch, and is cheaper.”

Customer: “But your sign says they’re ALL six dollars! And you said ‘no’!”

Customer’s Boyfriend: “Babe, you’ve got to calm down.”

Coworker: “Yeah, because your sub is only six inches long. It’s cheaper.”

Customer: *glares at us*

Me: “Regardless, your sub is only four dollars, miss.”

Customer: *turning on me, wildly* “No! I’m not paying for that! She said ‘no’!” *gestures to her boyfriend’s foot-long* “He’s paying for that, and that’s it! *turns to her boyfriend* “And don’t you ever grab me again!”

Customer’s Boyfriend: “Oh, yeah, I’m the one in trouble here.”

(The boyfriend and I finish the transaction for his foot-long while the girlfriend paces angrily outside.)

Me: “Here’s your change… and good luck.”

Customer’s Boyfriend: “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

(I normally avoid Black Friday sales because of the madness that ensues. However, a few years ago, a retailer put a sewing machine on sale and I desperately wanted a new one so I went with my aunt and cousins. Not wanting to be in the way, I put my machine in my cart and moved so that I was well out of the way while my relatives shopped.)

Woman: *rams the back of my legs with her heavily-ladened cart* “Watch it!”

Me: “Excuse you! There was plenty of room for you to get by! Why the h*** did you do that?”

Woman: “I didn’t see you there! You shouldn’t hide like that!”

Me: “I was right in front of you! How could you miss me?”

Woman: “Well, you’re just so short that I didn’t see you!”

Me: “Really? That’s the best excuse you’ve got? Lady, there’s NOTHING blocking your view of me and I’ve got BRIGHT RED HAIR! I’m also wearing a WHITE shirt that has a HUGE Mickey Mouse printed on it! So, how in the world did you NOT see me?”

Woman: *meekly* “I’m so sorry.” *runs off*

(Editor’s Note: If you’re working or shopping this Black Friday, good luck and stay safe! If you have any similar stories, be sure to submit it for our Black Friday & Holiday Themed Giveaway!)

(Our store releases new DVDs every Tuesday. A customer comes in on Wednesday, visibly angry.)

Customer: “What the h*** is wrong with your movies? This doesn’t work!”

(I open the case and discover that the brand new DVD is broken in several pieces, and has a large tire tread on the back.)

Me: “Sir, what happened? The DVD is completely destroyed!”

Customer: “I ran over it with my motorcycle. Why?”

Me: “…You ran over it…”

Customer: “I wanted to see if they still made them like they used to! Back in my day you couldn’t destroy things like this! I demand a refund!”

(He continues to yell and rant until my manager shows up. I explain what the story is, with the customer agreeing with me word for word on what happened. Finally, my manager speaks.)

Manager: *to the customer* “What are you, an idiot?”

(I am a black woman, and I have natural hair, meaning there are no chemicals in it to make it straight. The customer in this story is a white woman, and she is the only one in the lobby.)

Me: “Welcome to [movie theater]. Will that be all for you today?”

Customer: *looks at me disdainfully*

Me: “Ma’am, is there something I can help you with?”

Customer: “Is all of that under your cap your hair?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

Customer: “Why do you have so much?”

Me: “I’m Haitian. We typically have very thick hair.”

Customer: “Do you wash it?”

Me: “…Of course. I actually washed it last night.”

Customer: “It looks dirty. Why isn’t it straight? It looks unprofessional like that.”

Me: “My hair is naturally kinky. I’d have to get a relaxer for it to be—”

(Without warning, the customer reaches out, knocks my hat off, and shoves her hands all through my hair.)

Me: *swats her hands away* “EXCUSE YOU!”

Customer: “What? I wanted to see what it felt like.”

Me: “And you felt no need to ask me if it was okay to enter my body space?”

Customer: “Not really. I figured it was okay. I mean, it’s just hair. It’s not like it’s your boob or a body part or anything.”

Me: “It is, and I don’t care to be touched. Please don’t.”

Customer: “I was just curious!”

Me: “But you could have asked. I’m still a person.”

Customer: “No you’re not! You work here, and that means I get to do whatever I want to you because I’m paying you!”

Me: “Actually, [manager] pays me, and I will call him to escort you out if you don’t finish your transaction and return to your theater.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t want to buy anything now because you don’t want me to touch your hair!”

Me: *voids transaction* “Please leave your items on the counter and enjoy your show!”

(She walks off to a manager, calls me uppity, and demands I be reprimanded for refusing to let her touch me. The manager kicked her out without refund.)

(I am a dog walker. I’ve focused on an apartment complex near me, and get to know everyone’s dogs very well. The one I have the most trouble with is an Airedale Terrier. He is a biter, and the owner does not allow a muzzle on her dog. Unfortunately, not everyone would heed my warnings about not touching the dog.)

Man: “Hey, that’s a cute terrier. Can I pet your dog?”

(In anticipation, I wind the terrier’s leash tighter while keeping an eye on the second dog, which is a mastiff.)

Me: “Well, sir, he’s not my dog, and I wouldn’t advise petting him as he bites.”

Man: *stretches his arm towards the dog* “Nonsense, young lady. Terriers are the sweetest things, not like that pit you have there. You really shouldn’t own pits, you know. Crazy dangerous they are.”

Me: *pulls the dog back* “Sir, that’s a mastiff and neither of these are my dogs. I’m just their walker. Please do not touch the Airedale. He bites.”

Man: *still tries to pet the dog* “He’s so cute! Look at those little ears and that tail just wagging away!”

Me: “Sir, for the third time, please do not put your hand near the dog.”

Man: “Let’s give you a little pat eh-YRROUCH! He bit me!”

Me: *exasperated* “Yes, sir. He did. Did he break the skin?”

Man: “Your dog is crazy! You should be arrested for bring a dangerous animal in public!”

Me: “Sir, I did warn you and for the last time it is not my dog.”

Man: “What if I was a child?!”

Me: “You certainly have the logic of one.”