Customer: “Hi, Do you have Zombieland?”

Me: “Sure, have you had a look in the DVD section under ‘Z’?”

Customer: “No, I wanted to see if you had stock first; could you check, please?”

Me: “The ‘Z’ section is right behind you, and I saw one earlier today so It should be there.”

Customer: “Can you check on your computer if you have any?”

(I walk out from behind counter, and pick up the DVD.)

Customer: “Oh! Where did you find it?”

Me: “Under ‘Z’, in the DVD section.”

(It is raining outside. When it rains, water comes under the door to the garden section, which is located outside. A customer almost slips.)

Customer: “OH MY GOD! I COULD HAVE REALLY HURT MYSELF! YOU PEOPLE SHOULD HAVE WET FLOOR SIGNS WHERE IT IS WET!”

Me: *points to wet floor sign in front of the door*

Customer: “Oh… sorry.”

(She scurries out to her car.)

(I work at a fast food chain. I have just finished dealing with an absolutely horrendous customer, but I cannot take a break yet. My boss is sympathetic, but a little strict about breaks. I steel myself for the next customer.)

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Customer: “One second, sorry.”

(She is writing something on a slip of paper.)

Customer: “Okay, thanks for waiting. Can I get some sweet tea? Also, that last guy was a jerk. Here!”

(She hands me the piece of paper. It says: ‘notalwaysright.com’.)

Customer: “If you need to feel better, then go here!”

(Thank you so much, miss! I had never heard of this site before today, and I’m so glad you were kind to me!)

(The craft store is in a part of town near a university. At the moment, friendship style bracelets made of embroidery floss are popular. A young customer in his first year of college comes in.)

Me: “Hi there! Can I help you find anything today?”

Customer: “I’m looking for some string to make those bracelets with.”

Me: “Sure thing! Most people are using this embroidery floss to make them. It’s only 65 cents a piece!”

Customer: “Okay, great. I need some grey.”

Me: “Well, most of the neutrals are in this drawer.”

Customer: “These don’t have names. I need grey.”

Me: “I’m sorry; this particular brand doesn’t print color names on the labels. It looks like there are five different greys in this drawer here.”

(I pull out a grey and hand it to him.)

Customer: “I can’t buy this. How am I supposed to know what color it is if it doesn’t say? Is this grey? It doesn’t say if it’s grey. I need grey.”

(He leaves.)

Me: *speechless*

(I am working the reference desk. I have a great rapport with our patrons, and am often complimented for my positive attitude.)

Me: “This is the reference desk. How can I help you?”

Patron: “Can you tell me why fat people are so defensive?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Patron: “Can you tell me why fat people are so defensive?”

Me: “I can find you some materials on obesity, or prejudice faced by obese people perhaps—”

Patron: “I just want to know why fat people are always so angry.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am; I don’t think I can answer your question.”

Patron: “See! You’re angry!”

Me: “I’m sorry; do I know you?”

Patron: “No, but I’ve been in your library before, and I recognize your voice. You’re fat. Why are you so angry?”

Me: “Ma’am, I consider your question offensive and bigoted. Would you ask that same question about a particular ethnic group?”

Patron: “You’re a f******* fat b****!”

(I’d like to say this conversation didn’t shake me, but I felt ashamed of my appearance for the rest of the day.)