(In the early 2000s, I work as a cashier for a beer retailer. As you would expect, we have a good mix of customers, some friendly, some not so much. It is about five minutes to close when a customer shows up. There is only one person working besides me.)

Customer: “Give me [beer order].”

([Coworker] goes to get the order.)

Me: “Your total comes to [total].”

Customer: “Oh, s***! I forgot my wallet at home. Stay open until I get back!”

Me: “Sir, we close in five minutes. I can’t promise we’ll be open.”

Customer: “You stay open or I’ll drive my f****** truck through the window!”

(Ten minutes later, he comes back. We haven’t closed off the till yet, so we let him back in to buy his beer.)

Me: “Sir, we’re just part-time employees doing our jobs. There’s no need to threaten us.”

Customer: “Have you heard about the bank robberies in the neighbourhood?”

(There have been two or three bank robberies in the area in the past few months.)

Me: “Yeah…”

Customer: “Maybe you’ll be next!”

(With that, I typed up a report of what had happened, which both my coworker and I signed, and left it for the store supervisor. We also included the guy’s license plate number, which the store supervisor included in his police report the next morning. The customer was banned for life when he next returned.)

(I work in the reference department at my local library and we get all kinds of strange people. This particular patron is something of a local legend; nearly every native of my city knows her name, and not for the right reasons. This is my second time working with her after reading her file in public record and REALLY getting to know her… unique perspective.)

Legend: “Hello, [My Name]. Could you help me out?”

Me: “Of course. What can I do for you?” 

Legend: “What?”

Me: *louder, this time* “I asked what I could do for you.”

Legend: “Can you get me the name of every owner of a major media source in the United States?”

Me: “I can certainly help you with that, ma’am. Give me one moment.”

(I begin to go through the web, finding and writing down corporations and CEOs until [Legend] looks reasonably satisfied. We don’t just stop at ABC and FOX; we go all the way down to local stations in major cities, and the rabbit holes those become. Regardless, it all seems innocent enough, until…)

Legend: “Okay, I need you to find me the names of every major politician and president of Israel.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Legend: “I want to know the names of every major politician and president of Israel. The Jews in charge. You know. Those Jews own us all, and our media. I need to know their names.”

(I pull up a Wikipedia page listing all acting head executives of the Israeli state and print it for her. She smiles, pays the fee for the pages, and then walks away with my notes and her new list of Israeli officials. She sits in the office section of reference for a long time. An hour or so later, I walk over to that area to clean up and organize our newspapers. She’s drawn pentagrams all over both pages. All over them. I cannot find the words to describe all the Cherokee letters — I researched their origin after the fact — and pentagrams all over these papers. I quickly finish my work and walk back to my desk, settling back into work. Suddenly, she returns to me, smiling like a sweet old lady. She hands me the pages, looking genuinely proud of her work.)

Legend: “Can I fax these, sweetie?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Write down the information on a cover sheet and come back to me.”

(She did so, we faxed the forms, she paid, and she left. I legitimately believe she was attempting to hex somebody. I never had the desire to research the fax number. I tried not to think too much about it afterward. Kind of funny in retrospect, though.)

(I work at a Christian chain retail store. We actually have a pretty peaceful environment and customers, only having the occasional rude or stupid ones. This is one of my more memorable interactions as a cashier.)

Me: “Hello! How are you today?”

Customer: “Good. And you?”

Me: “Doing pretty good. Did you find everything all right?”

Customer: “I did, but I have to express a concern.”

Me: “Oh, okay.” *rather apprehensively*

Customer: *leaning in a little closer* “It’s about your mannequins in the apparel section. They’re a little too… gifted, if you know what I mean.”

(Our mannequins are pretty standard. Some look male and some look female by having “boobs.” I assume she’s referring to the female ones.)

Customer: “They just make me feel uncomfortable to look at, and I feel a store like this wouldn’t have mannequins that would look like that. Have you ever noticed them?”

Me: *taken aback by her comment, as I’ve never heard something like this before* “Umm, well… no, ma’am, I haven’t really paid that much attention to the mannequins, but I’m sorry you feel that way about them.

Customer: “Well, maybe you could mention to someone higher up about them. Wouldn’t want children, like my little daughter, seeing things like that.”

Me: *still trying to be professional and not laugh* “No, we definitely don’t want that. I’ll mention it to my manager, or you could call our corporate office and file a complaint with them if you’d like.”

Customer: “I just might do that. You have a nice day.”

(When she left, I told my manager what had happened. He said, “Seriously?” and burst out laughing. He then looked at the mannequins and said, “I guess they do have breasts. Never paid attention to it until now.”)

(I work in a predominantly Southern fast food restaurant that specializes in ice-cream-based treats. Due to some technical issues, our card readers are down, so we’re only able to take cash. I’m working in the drive-thru when a car pulls up to the speaker.)

Me: “Thank you for choosing [Restaurant]. Due to computer issues, we can only accept cash right now; will that be okay?”

Customer: “Yeah, that’s fine!”

(He proceeds to order about $30 worth of food. We have a small line in the drive-thru lane and our kitchen workers are fairly fast, so by the time the customer pulls up to the window I have his food sitting nearby.)

Me: “All right, sir, that’ll be [price].”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t actually have any cash.”

Me: “Oh, well… Sorry about that. Come and see us again.”

Customer: “Isn’t that my food right there?” *points to the bag near me*

Me: “Yes, but if you can’t pay for it I can’t give it out.”

Customer: “So, instead, you’re just going to let all the food go to waste?”

Me: “I don’t really have much choice in the matter, sir, if I want to keep my job.”

Customer: *sneering* “People like you are what’s wrong with this world!”

(He raced away from the window, nearly hitting someone in his rush to exit the parking lot.)

(I work in a call center. Our workstations are set up in groups of four — two positions side by side facing the other two positions side by side. One evening, the agent beside me gets a call where the customer is challenging her on procedure and demands to speak to a manager. She complies. After a few minutes, the manager, also a woman, comes out and asks me what the procedures are; it isn’t the manager’s job to know how we do our jobs. I tell her exactly what the agent beside me has said and she goes back and gives the customer that information.)

Coworker: “You said exactly what I said.”

Me: “Yep. Your customer was a man, weren’t they?”

Coworker: “How did you know?”

Me: “Unfortunately, some guys won’t take information unless it comes from a man’s mouth.”

(We go back to work.)