(I work in an awkwardly-sized shop where the chocolate counter is at one end of the shop, with the till at the other. This tends to result in customers waiting needlessly at the chocolate counter. This occurs during on a particularly busy time.)

Me: “Sorry about the wait, sir. Would you just like to follow me to the till and I’ll just put your transaction though?”

Customer: “I’ve been waiting bloody ages! This happens every year! You shop assistants are useless!”

Me: “Sorry, sir. It’s just the shop is awkwardly shaped, so it’s difficult to keep track of people waiting—”

Customer: *hands over his card* “I’m a business man, and it’s not the shop. It’s you! You’re just useless!”

Me: “Once again, I apologise for the wait. It’s difficult to keep tabs on everyone—”

Customer: “If you would do your job properly, it wouldn’t happen! Every bloody year, it’s the same!”

Me: “Sir—”

Customer: “If you make one more excuse, I’ll leave without buying anything!”

(Note: I’ve already put his purchase though and I’m just trying to hand him his card and receipts.)

Me: “Okay, I—”

Customer: “That’s it! I’ve had enough! I’m leaving!”

(The customer angrily storms out of shop. Five minutes later, he returns, albeit much calmer.)

Customer: *sheepish* “I…er…left my card.”

Me: “Don’t forget your chocolates, sir! Have a lovely day!”

(I work at a call center for an online auction site.  The first thing we need to ask when we answer the phone is for their user name.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [company]. May I have your user name, please?”

Caller: “It’s [user name].”

Me: “Thanks. How can I help you today?”

Caller: “I forgot my user name.”

Me: “You mean the user name you just provided me with?”

(There’s an awkward pause while the caller processes what I’ve said.)

Caller: “Oh…never mind!” *click*

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Me: “Hi, how are you today?”

Customer: “Can I ask you a question?”

Me: “Sure. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Is there any coffee in a latte?”

Me: “Yeah, there is. We put two shots of coffee in a tall latte.”

Customer: “Oh, okay. How about the cappuccino? Does that have coffee?”

Me: “Yes, sir, there are two shots in the cappuccino as well.”

Customer: “So, are you SURE there is coffee in a cappuccino? Because I really need coffee!”

Me: “I can assure you there is coffee in it. I can even give you extra shots of coffee.”

Customer: “So, there is coffee in it?”

Me: “Yes, there is coffee in a cappuccino.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t want coffee! What kind of place is this?!”

Me: “A…coffee shop?”

Customer: *leaves in a huff*

Me: *completely confused*

(I am working in a sub shop when two elderly ladies approach. One orders for both of them.)

Customer: “I want a tuna sub.”

Me: “Okay, is that a footlong?”

(I’m assuming they are getting a footlong to split, but I have to ask to be sure.)

Customer: “No, it’s for here.”

Me: “Okay, but is that a footlong or a 6 inch?”

Customer: *looks at me confused* “What?”

Me: “Is your sub a footlong or a 6 inch?”

Customer: “No, it’s a footlong.”

(I go down the line making the rest of her sandwich for her without any other problems. When we get to the register, they get two bags of chips and two coffees. Then, they ask for the senior discount, which I give them.)

Me: “That will be $9.31 today.”

Customer: “That’s not right.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I thought the sub was $5.”

Me: “Actually, with your senior discount it only costs $4.50, but you also have the chips and the coffees, which brings your total to $9.31.”

Customer: “But the sub’s supposed to be $5.”

Me: “Yes, and it is $5. However, you also got the chips, which are $0.89 a piece and the coffees, which are about $1.29 a piece. Then, theres tax.”

Customer: “But I thought that the sub was $5.”

(This goes on for about five more minutes, with me explaining everything she’s got and how her total is $9.31. After about five more minutes, she finally gets it.)

Customer: “Oh, the coffee and the chips cost about $1 each, so it’s $9.31!”

(I am helping a mother and her teenage son go through his summer reading list to find a book that will meet his requirement. I usually do this by working with the kid to find one that they’re genuinely interested in reading, but in this case, the mother keeps interrupting.)

Customer: “My god, look at how long all these books are!”

Me: *to the son* “You said you like mysteries, right? And Then There Were None is on your son’s reading list. I think you’d like it.”

Customer: *looking at the book* “It’s almost four hundred pages! How do you expect him to finish that thing?”

Me: “Well, he does have the whole summer.”

Customer: “Absolutely not! How can they expect him to read that much? It’s insane!”

Customer’s Son: *reading the back cover* “Mom, this actually sounds really good. There are ten people on an island and they start dying one by one.”

Customer: “Honey, you shouldn’t have to read that much. You’ll waste your whole summer! We want a book that’s under a hundred pages.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but none of these books are going to be under a hundred pages. I think the shortest one is about two hundred.”

Customer: “This is so ridiculous. How can they do this to him? Let’s pick a book from that rack over there. Those look much more manageable.”

Me: “Ma’am, that display is required reading for the local elementary school.”

Customer: “I don’t care what it is. We’re picking from there.”

Me: “None of those are on the reading list. Your son is going into tenth grade.”

Customer: “Well, these look like the books I would want to read. If I ever wanted to read, that is.”

Customer’s Son: “I think we should just get the one he recommended. It sounds awesome!”

Customer: “Forget it. You know what? We’re gonna drive by the school so I can complain to the principal. It’s ridiculous for them to expect you to read during the summer! That’s crazy!”

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(Note: I’m working alone at a gas station. It’s a pretty busy day, so even if I was allowed, I couldn’t pump somebodies gas for them. This conversation happens with an older man who looks to be pretty well-off.)

Me: “Hello, sir. Are you pump 6?”

Customer: “Yes, I am! And You know, you should be ashamed of yourself! Somebody should be out pumping gas for these old ladies!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m here all alone and can’t really pump everybody’s gas for them.”

Customer: “Well, you should tell your boss to hire someone to do it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but this is a smaller gas station and my boss can’t really afford to hire someone to pump people’s gas for them, especially since most people pay at the pump.”

Customer: “So you won’t tell them to?”

Me: “I know they won’t do it, sir. They’d lose too much money that way.”

Customer: “You know, it’s punks like you who don’t stand up to parliament. That’s why our taxes are so high! No wonder life’s so difficult!”

Me: “Actually, sir, the way I see it I have food, shelter and clothing so I’m pretty good.”

Customer: “It must be nice to have so much money! You don’t know what hard times are like!”

Me: “Actually, sir, not too long before finding this job I was living on the streets. I have since been able to pull myself off the streets and now have hope for college.”

Customer: “Yeah?! Well…how would you like it if someone kicked YOUR dog?!”

Me: *speechless*

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(I work for an online retail store. When customers send orders to addresses different from their card, we e-mail them a Word document form. This form requires they fill it out and e-mail it back to us.)

Customer: “I don’t understand. I’ve sent this form to you several times now.”

Me: “Sir, I saw your e-mail, but the form wasn’t attached to it.”

Customer: “Attached? How do you do that?”

Me: “What program or e-mail provider do you use?”

Customer: “I don’t know. I just write e-mails.”

Me: “Well, is your e-mail through Outlook, or is it something in a browser, like AOL, Yahoo, or Gmail?

Customer: “Yahoo.”

Me: “Okay. Well, you need to look for—”

Customer: “Hold up! I don’t even have my e-mail open. Why do I need to do this? I used your program and sent you the file.”

Me: “What program, sir?”

Customer: “Microsoft Office. And now it’s opening a bunch of files! 1, 2, 3, 4…20!”

Me: “Did you click on our file a bunch of times?”

Customer: “No! I just clicked on what you sent me! Your program is really stupid.”

Me: “Sir, that’s not our program. We sent you a document. The program to open it is someone else’s.”

Customer: “Well, your ‘document’ has a virus! There are 20 things on my screen now!”

Me: “It’s not a virus, sir. Just close those windows down, and we’ll start from scratch…”

Customer: *a few minutes later* “There. I filled out the form. You should have it.”

Me: “Sir, did you save it and attach it to the e-mail?”

Customer: “What do you mean? I filled it out! You should have it.”

Me: “You have to save it and attach it to the e-mail.”

Customer: “That’s stupid! Your program should just send it to you!”

Me: “Sir, again, that’s not our program. That is just a Word document that you save your information in.”

Customer: “You should use a program that just lets you fill it out and it sends the information.”

Me: “Sorry, our documents don’t do that.”

Customer: “This is ridiculously complicated. I’m about to cancel my order!”

Me: “If you wish to do that sir, it’s up to you.”

Customer: “I mean, how do you run your business? I have a Master’s in Computer Science! If I can’t figure this out, who could?!”

(We close at 10 PM. 10 minutes to closing, I am near the entrance folding clothes when a middle-aged customer walks up.)

Customer: “What time y’all close?”

Me: “We close at 10:00.”

Customer: *looks at the clock, which says 9:50 pm* “Oh, good! That means I have a half hour!”

(I look young for my age and see no point in getting aggressive when asked for ID. However, the picture is old and has been refused before, so I try to get by without it. Alcohol is generally cheaper in Northern Ireland and I’m originally from a border town. This happens on a trip “up North” with friends from “the South”, AKA the Republic of Ireland.)

Cashier: *before scanning a bottle of wine in my basket* “Have you any ID?”

Me: “It’s out in the car somewhere, but I am 23.”

My Friend: “I can vouch for her. She is of age.”

Cashier: “Sorry, but I can’t let her without seeing ID. It’s store policy.”

My Friend: “Okay, then, I’ll pay for it.”

Cashier: “Can’t do that either. I’m sorry, but I’m just doing my job.”

Me: “It’s fine, really. It happens all the time. I’ll just get the groceries.”

Cashier: “I’m really sorry. Just we get a lot of young ones in trying to buy drinks.”

Me: “I know. I’m from [town just over the border]. We used to come up here all the time when we were younger.”

Cashier: “I feel terrible. Most people get angry, but you’re being so nice!”

Me: “It happens all the time; don’t worry! There’s no point getting angry; it’s your job to ask.”

(I go out to the car, get my passport, and make sure to go back through her lane.)

Me: “Back again! The picture’s old, but it is me, I promise!”

Cashier: *checks picture and DOB* “I’ll tell you now, when you’re my age, you’ll appreciate being asked! Thanks a million! It’s great to not be shouted at for once!”

(A middle-aged customer approaches me at checkout.)

Me: “Your total comes to $15.65.”

Customer: “Oh! That’s the year I was born!”