I work in the poultry industry. I am out visiting one of our farms, and a few of the shed walkers and I are having lunch up at the farm office.

An elderly man shows up at the gate, wanting to buy eggs. We’re all a little confused because we absolutely cannot sell eggs directly from the farm, but he’s insisting he’s bought eggs from this farm before. One of the shed walkers goes to find the farm manager as the man asks us to make sure all his eggs are double-yolks because that’s what he got last time.

Finally, the farm manager shows up.

Manager: “We can’t sell you eggs. You have to go to [Store #1] or [Store #2] to get eggs.”

Man: “No, no, but I used to buy eggs from here. Maybe five years ago, you used to sell eggs to the public.”

Manager: “Sir, I have worked on this farm for twenty-five years. We have never sold eggs from here. Please leave.”

He did leave, begrudgingly.

Two weeks later, we had almost exactly the same conversation with an elderly woman who argued even harder that she used to buy eggs from the farm. It took nearly fifteen minutes for her to give up and leave.

I work for a store that sells most items at seventy-five percent off and has large price tickets showing the original price and the discounted price, which we always place at the right hand top corner on the front of the product.

A customer asks me the price of one item.

Me: *Looking at the price tag* “It’s $19.99.”

Customer: “No, that’s not right. It’s too much.”

Me: “It’s discounted from $79.99.”

Customer: “No, that’s not the right price. Look, it says the price here.”

The customer points to a small white sticker on the back that has the product description and a product number.  

Me: “Sorry, but that’s the product number.”

Customer: “No, it’s the price. It says three eighty-five right there, and that’s all I am paying.”

She will not listen to a word I say, arguing back until I get fed up.

Me: “Okay, you can have it for that price.”

A smug “I win” smile comes to her face until I continue with:

Me: “That will be $385, thanks.”

Customer: “WHAT? No, it’s $3.85! How did you come up with that price?”

Me: “The number is written right there. As you can see, there’s no decimal point between any of the numbers, so it’s three hundred and eighty-five. Come to think about it, there’s no dollar sign before the number, which indicates that’s not the price, but you said that was the only price you were going to pay.”

The customer called me a b**** before storming off.

I’m the author of this story. This story takes place about three months later in the same upscale spa in a five-star hotel.

Management has recently decided to overload all therapists with more bookings than we are legally allowed to do, with almost no turnaround time between clients, while constantly running out of supplies. As such, every single therapist is racing to get rooms set up for long and complex treatments.

On this particular day, I begin with a thirty-minute facial and a two-hour package afterward consisting of a foot bath, body scrub, body massage, and facial. I’ve managed to set everything up in with seconds to spare and take a deep breath to steady myself after such frantic running back and forth.

My moment complete, I head out to find my client.

Me: “Hello, [Client]. My name is [My Name], and I’ll be your therapist today. Are you ready to come in with me?”

She shifts her designer sunglasses and literally looks down her nose at me.

Client: “What is wrong with your voice?”

Me: “…I’m sorry?”

Client: “Your voice. I don’t like it. You sound breathy. Do you actually want me here, or should I come back another time?”

Me: “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I absolutely did not mean to come across that way. I have everything ready for your treatment, however, so if you’d like to follow me—”

Client: *Interrupting* “No, I don’t want you. I don’t like your voice. It’s too breathy. You don’t sound right.”

She looks me up and down with obvious contempt and points.

Client: “I only want this spa at its best, and it’s clearly not today if someone like you is here.”

Me: *Forcing a smile* “I’m sorry about that, ma’am. If you’re not comfortable with me, then you are free to speak with my manager.”

The client hightails it to the front desk and starts demanding her appointment be changed this instant. The manager explains that this is not possible, as we tend to book out a month in advance, this will mean a two-hour slot will be wasted, and her not liking my voice isn’t a valid reason. After all, I simply need to ask some basic questions such as allergies, etc., and then we don’t have to talk. Therefore, changing her appointment is really quite difficult and unreasonable.

To say the client is affronted would be an understatement; she looks as though someone has suggested she go bathe in garbage water.

Client: “That is unacceptable. I want my appointment changed now! I only have spa treatments every two weeks, and it’s important that I only get the best! This therapist…” *points to me* “…is clearly not the best.”

Manager: “Ma’am, her voice is not a valid reason to change your appointment so suddenly.”

Client: “Are you refusing to do what I want?!”

Manager: “Not exactly, but I’m just saying that it’s not—”

Client: “I want to talk to the manager!”

Manager: “Well, that would be me.”

I should point out that my manager is Mexican. The client is white.

Client: *In a tone of absolute revulsion* “You? Someone like you actually owns this place?!”

Manager: “…No, I don’t own the business.”

The client marches over to a seat and parks herself.

Client: “Fine. I’ll just wait here while you escalate my case to your superior!”

While she waits, two more women come in screaming about the hotel sauna being closed for cleaning, even though that has nothing to do with the spa, and the delightful woman from before starts commiserating with the newcomers about how incompetent we are, etc.

They go on more about my manager’s accent and so forth, pretty much being exactly the kind of people you’d cross the street to avoid. While I’m standing there questioning every single thing that has led me up to this point, the two sauna clients leave amid more shouting, and the first woman is told that the owner has agreed to switch her appointment.

Client: “About time. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make a complaint or anything!”

She is FINALLY gone, and the next thing I know, my manager is rounding on me.

Manager: “HOW COULD YOU LET THAT HAPPEN?!”

Me: “What are you saying?”

Manager: “You should have taken charge of that situation! You should have done more to reassure that woman! You should have done more to calm her down!”

At this point, I am barely holding back tears.

Me: “…she said my voice annoyed her. How was I supposed to calm her down when that was her issue? And she insulted me right to my face. I don’t want to deal with that kind of rudeness!”

Manager: “YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE MORE TO CALM HER DOWN! YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE LET HER GET THAT UPSET!”

Despite saying that she wouldn’t complain, the client called the head office to complain before she’d even left the building. As compensation for her unspeakable trauma, she received free products, free treatments, and free upgrades.

That was the beginning of the end for me. Thanks to this woman, all levels of management proceeded to chew me out throughout several meetings over multiple weeks over the incident, and they cut my hours as punishment for not “calming and communicating with the client”.

They were utterly shocked and furious when I left a few months later, and I have since left the beauty industry entirely thanks to that place.

Related:
Meet The Mister Looking For His Miss-ogyny

One of my friends is heavily pregnant and suffering from baby-brain. She is also in peak nesting and constantly cleaning and organising the house.

Her husband doesn’t quite understand nesting and has been questioning and telling [Friend] that she doesn’t need to do all this work. [Friend] is strong-willed normally, so you know these arguments haven’t gone in her husband’s favour. He has now been told essentially to just be quiet and let her organise the house how she wants for the arrival of the baby. She will be the one home with the baby, after all.

One day, [Friend] is organising the fridge, and she is getting very frustrated as she’s doing so. She’s moving everything around to get a bulk of room. Her husband starts watching. He knows better than to question her, but he starts to smile when he sees what she is trying to fit in the fridge. He sits down and watches for a while, holding back his laughter as his pregnant wife gets more and more frustrated and it starts to manifest as anger.

After a good fifteen minutes, [Friend] slams what she’s holding on the bench, and her husband starts cracking up laughing. She turns and stares daggers at him.

Husband: *With a smile* “What are you doing, dear?”

Friend: “I’m just trying to make room in the fridge for the… toaster.”

She stopped in confusion and looked at the fridge and the toaster. She shut the fridge, put the toaster back, and started laughing after a few minutes of mixed emotions.

She no longer has issues letting her husband have input when she is organising the house.

It had been a while since I’d had a haircut, and my long hair was in need of a tidy-up. Because I had worked to get it to the condition it was in, strong and long, I made an appointment at a hairdresser that charges quite a premium for a haircut, thinking they would have more experience or knowledge on how to do hair. A haircut at this place costs what any other hairdresser would charge for a full wash, cut, dry, and basic style. 

The hairdresser did a great job with the front, and since I paid so much, I trusted that it was good at the back. (Mistake.) I paid and went home and started showing off to my husband.

My husband immediately picked up when I turned around that it was crooked; it was visible at the back but not noticeable at the front.

Rather than go somewhere else to pay for a whole haircut or put in a bad review, I wanted to give the first place a chance to fix the issue, so I called them. The hairdresser picked up, and I explained the issue. She immediately got defensive and just said, “But I checked it!” I had to be very assertive in correcting her because she did not believe me. She then booked for me to come back another day because they were closing for the day.

When I returned, it was the owner who glanced at my hair and said he couldn’t see the issue, and I had to argue that it was crooked. I sat down in the chair and he did some checks. I saw his face change, and he quietly went over to the original hairdresser, disguising it as getting equipment, and told her that it was crooked on the left side where my hair was wavy and bent in another direction. He thought I couldn’t hear, but I looked at him very pointedly so he knew I did.

After the correction cut, he told me that when I come in for a haircut, I should straighten my hair first since they like to dry cut and don’t want to wet and blow-dry hair after cutting it.

This place isn’t located anywhere that would charge a lot for rent or anything, either, so it’s not like the high price is to cover a cost another hairdresser wouldn’t face.

I haven’t gone back; I’ve found a hairdresser who charges a fair amount and makes sure my hair is cut straight.