Unfiltered Story #197932

I volunteer in a charity-run café in a hospital when I am fifteen. It is pretty close to the psych ward, which leads to some… interesting encounters:

Customer: “I’ll have two sausage rolls, please.”

Me: “Okay, so that will be [total].”

Customer: “F*** you! This is my last £20!”

The customer waves the note in my face.

Me: “Miss, please calm—”

Customer: “I HAVE TO FEED MY BABY YOU ABSOLUTE C***!

(note, she was obviously over 60, and could not have had a baby)

Me: I cannot lower the price. I can cancel the transaction or return one of the sausage rolls if you want.

Customer: *screeches and swears at me, demanding a discount*

I repeat what I said before, which is what I do when I get stressed/overwhelmed. The customer continues her screaming fit.

Coworker: I’m sorry, but you cannot speak to my coworker like that. She has no control over the price, and also is a child. I need to ask you to leave.

The customer runs away screaming. I later see her being put into a wheelchair by a nurse wearing the psych ward uniform. After she left I burst into tears, and my co-worker bought me a slice of cake and sent me through to the back to calm down.