(I work at a call center in Canada dealing with American cell customers. This is a call from a customer in Seattle.)

Me: “Hello, thanks for calling [Company Name]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Does your company outsource to India?”

Me: “I don’t know for sure, but I know it does hire companies out of the USA.”

Caller: “I’d like to cancel my service, then.”

Me: “I can do that for you. May I ask why you’d like to cancel?”

Caller: “I don’t support companies that don’t support America. If they’re hiring out of America, then I don’t want to support them.”

Me: “Alright, I’ll process that cancellation for you.”

Caller: “Am I calling to India?!”

Me: “No. I’m actually in Canada.”

Caller: “Oh, I love Canada! I do all my shopping there. Everything is so much cheaper!”

(I walk in and stand in a line. I’ve been there for all of five seconds before a man runs in, elbows his way to the front of the queue and slams a burger in front of the cashier. She is a young teenager.)

Customer: "You f***ing b****! How many f***ing times do I have to tell you no f***ing sauce?!"

Cashier: *smiling all the way through the exchange* "I’m sorry sir, what seems to be the problem?"

Customer: "You f***ing up my burger! I want a refund now!"

Cashier: "Certainly, sir! Do you remember what time you came in at?"

Customer: "How am I supposed to f***ing know? You’re the one who took the d*** order!"

Cashier: "I’ll have a look, sir, if you give me one moment."

(She taps her screen, all the while being yelled abuse at by the customer. All the other customers have since cleared out, except for me. I motion to the cashier that I’ve called the police.)

Cashier: "Hm…oh, is this your order?” *rattles off a few items*

Customer: "Yes, that’s my d*** order! Now give me my f***ing refund!"

Cashier: "Certainly, sir, let me just authorise that for you."

(She taps on her screen some more and swipes a card a few times.)

Customer: "F***ing hurry up, you b****! My f***ing dinner’s getting cold!"

Cashier: "My apologies sir, give me one moment. Would you like me to give you a fresh order?"

Customer: "You’d better, you b****!”

Cashier: *hands customer his refunded money* "Okay, it’ll be three minutes to cook your order so if you’d like to sit down-"

(At this point the man throws the money he’s just been given at the cashier and screams abuse at her. She picks up the change and counts it.)

Cashier: "Your change comes up to £3.71, which is just enough for another meal. Which one would you like?"

Customer: "Would you just hurry up and give me my d*** food! Are you f***ing simple or something?”

Cashier: "No, just distracting you ’till the police get here."

(Two uniformed police officers walk in and take the man away, who is still cursing. The manager walks out of a side room which he has been hiding in–he’s about thirty and male–and offers her a promotion on the spot. She promptly tells him that she’d rather die than be spineless like him and quits. She then pockets the change, grabs most of the food on display and leaves, but not before thanking me and sharing half the food with me.)

(I am working as a cashier at a movie theater.)

Me: “Here are your tickets, ma’am. The theater is on your right. Here are your 3D glasses.”

(About five minutes pass before I hear her complaining to my manager.)

Customer: “…and that girl didn’t tell me! She should be fired! I could have really gotten hurt tripping over the stairs. She never told me that I only needed the 3D glasses for the movie!”

Manager: “Ma’am, you don’t need the glasses for real life. Real life is already in three dimensions.”

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(I have psoriasis, a hereditary condition which leaves me with large red patches on my scalp. This occurs while I am waiting in line at a convenience store with a woman standing behind me.)

Customer: "What’s wrong with you?"

Me: "I beg your pardon?"

Customer: "Those ugly blotches all over your head. What do you have?"

Me: "Oh, it’s a highly contagious flesh eating disease. Very painful."

Customer: "Oh my gosh! Really? How contagious is it?"

Me: "Well, you probably already have it."

Customer: *rushes out of the store in a panic*

(I am working as a barista in a small coffee shop in a mall, located right next to the escalators. There’s a large window between the shop and the escalators, so I can see people going up and down. I’m having a very good day and making espresso when all of the sudden the escalators stop. A very stressed woman comes running around the corner, looking very angry.)

Customer: *waving with both hands* “Will you stop that!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Oh my God! I have my shopping cart in the escalators and it’s my sons birthday! Turn it back on!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t fix the escalator. There will probably be a service man her any minute.”

Customer: “I saw you pressing the buttons on that machine!” *points to the espresso machine* “You were laughing and then the escalator stopped. And now my son is stuck. It’s his birthday!”

Me: “Ma’am, this is an espresso machine. It makes coffee. I laughed because I’m in a good mood. There will be someone her soon to–”

Customer: “Then make another coffee, and start it again! And wipe that smile off your face!”

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