(I have finished my shift and am doing my shopping at the self scan checkout, still in uniform.)

Customer: “Excuse me can you help me? The machine’s playing up.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’ve actually finished. I can’t log on to the system after my shift, but I can call my colleague.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! If you’ve finished why are you still here at this checkout?”

Me: “I’m shopping sir, like you are.”

Customer: “Why the h*** would you need to shop here?!”

Me: “I still need to eat, sir.”

Customer: “This is insane, what makes you think you have the right to eat?!”

Related:
Anatomically Correct Vs Politically Incorrect

(I give activity sessions for young children at a small museum in Scotland. During one of the sessions, the children have to guess what a mystery object is – in this case, some tobacco leaves.)

Me: “So you’ve guessed it’s some leaves. Does anybody know what leaves these are? A clue is the smell.”

(The children look nonplussed, understandably.)

Me: “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t know what this is. You’re all a bit young to be allowed this. Any guesses?”

Child: “CRACK!”

(Our store has a hot lunch station, which includes soup made in house.)

Customer: “Is there a schedule for the soups? Like, is it the same thing week after week?”

Me: “It is right here.” *pointing to this month’s soup menu*

Customer: “It seems like the soups lately have all been kind of, well, leftish fringe. All red lentils and stuff.”

(He scrutinizes the menu, muttering to himself.)

Customer: “Ha! ‘German Sausage and Potato’. That’s normal. Who knows what the h*** is in ‘Thai Curry’."

(It is a very busy morning and I am the only one on staff. A customer cuts past the line and starts asking about soy milk quite angrily.)

Customer: “I need soy milk. I’m vegan.”

Me: “I can’t guarantee that the milk is 100% vegan, sir.”

Customer: “Show me your soy milk! Hurry up!”

(I leave the coffee machine and get one for him.)

Me: “We have [brand] soymilk. Is that okay?”

Customer: “What are the ingredients? Hurry up! I’m vegan.”

Me: “Soy juice, sir. You can read it if you want and see if it’s okay for you.”

Customer: “I don’t have time to read! You read it for me! I’m vegan!”

Me: “I don’t have time to read it for you. I’m busy serving the 10 people you pushed in front of.”

Customer: *waving bottle* “I need you to read it! I’m a vegan!”

Regular customer: “Shut the f*** up and go buy your own Soy milk then.”

Customer: “You can’t say that to me!”

(The vegan guy throws the soy on the counter and storms off.)

Me: “Thanks guys.”

Regular Customer: “Can I have a latte on light milk? You don’t have to read the ingredients. I’m pretty sure it came from a cow.”

(I’m a hostess seating a very attractive couple and their adorable 9-month-old baby.)

Me: "Do we have anything to celebrate tonight?"

Wife: "No…well…"

Me: "Yes?"

Wife: *as if divulging a great secret* "Well, I’ve been on a cleanse since I had my baby, and I’m only allowed to eat on certain days. Today…I get to eat DINNER!"

Me: “Uhm…”

Wife: *nervous giggle*

Customer: “Excuse me, do you know where the underwear are stocked?”

(I am a fellow customer. I have no name badge, no uniform, and I have my purse hanging from my shoulder.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t work here.”

Customer: “Oh, I thought you did. You walk like an employee.”

Me: “I walk…like an employee?”

Customer: “Yes, you should walk differently so people don’t confuse you.”

Me: “Like this?”

(I walk briskly for a few steps.)

Customer: “No, no, that’s why I stopped you.”

Me: “How about this?”

(I walk a little slower, stopping to look at merchandise and to examine them.)

Customer: “No, you look like you’re shelving.”

Me: “What about like this?”

(I shuffle along slowly, staring vacantly at my shoes.)

Customer: “No, you look like my son when he works. Oh dear, I guess you just can’t walk like a regular customer. You should take classes.”

(She walks way and I look five feet to my left, where an actual employee is staring, open mouthed at the scene.)

Employee: “I wonder who would teach those classes?”

(It is the Christmas season and we sell clothing for dogs and cats. An old lady comes in and finds me standing near the birdcages.)

Me: “Hello, ma’am! How can I help you today?”

Customer: “Do you have Santa hats?”

Me: “Why yes, they’re right here.”

Customer: *looks them over* “No, these are much too big.”

Me: “What size of pet are you looking to buy a hat for?”

Customer: “Small.”

Me: “A Chihuahua?”

Customer: “Smaller!”

Me: “A teacup Yorkie?”

Customer: “My Cockatoo!”

Me: “Your…Cockatoo?”

Customer: “Yes! I need to buy 10 Santa hats. One for each of my beloveds. Do you have any that small?”

Me: “I don’t believe so.”

Customer: “What do you mean?! This is a pet store! Why don’t you have any Santa hats for my babies?!”

Me: *walking toward front door* “Well, ma’am, if you walk about 10 feet to your left, you’ll find [craft store] and I’m sure they’ll have all your Santa hat needs.”

Customer: “Thank you! This is what good customer service is all about!”

(She leaves. About an hour later, we receive an angry call.)

Customer: *enraged* “Why didn’t she tell me it was a craft store and I had to make my own? Who the h*** wants to make their own Santa hats?!”

(The restaurant is near a Navy base and thus, sometimes, sailors and officers off-duty come to eat. A man and his girlfriend come in. They haven’t reserved a table, were rude and snotty with my co-workers, complained a lot about the food and talked loudly and sometimes mocked the other customers. My manager decides that enough is enough when the man lit a cigarette after requesting his bill.)

Manager: “Sir, you can’t smoke here.”

Customer: “Yes I can.”

Manager: “Sir, you’re in a smoke-free zone. Either go away or put out this cigarette.”

(The customer gets up. He’s clearly taller and larger than the manager and glances at him.)

Customer: “Buddy, listen. I’m a Navy’s lieutenant, so I’m not going to take crap from civvies. Just shut up and let me smoke.”

(At this point, I decide to call the police when I notice another customer with his family getting up and going straight to the troublemaker.)

Customer #2: “Did I hear you’re in the Navy?”

Customer: “Yeah, so?”

Customer #2: “You work at the base here?”

Customer: “What? Get the f*** out, you d*** civvie!”

Customer #2: “You know [name]?”

Customer: “Who the f*** are you and what the f*** do you want?”

Customer #2: “Do you know [name]?”

Customer: “[name] is my superior!”

Customer #2: “Well, I’m HIS superior, and as soon as I’m out of here, I’ll make sure he lights your a** up.”

(The second customer pulls out a military ID and shows it to him. The troublemaking customer goes white, apologizes profusely to the manager and the customer, pays his bill and storms off with his girl WHILE SOBBING. Turns out the man showed him his military ID, and he’s a Navy’s rear-admiral. Needless to say, we gave a huge discount to the officer.)