I volunteer in a charity bookshop. I’ve just finished serving a customer when another comes up to me.

Customer: “This book has writing in it.”

Me: “Some of our books will. They’re secondhand.”

Customer: “It’s all over!”

I take the book, thinking it might have been missed as we usually don’t sell books if there is significant notation. I skim through and can’t see anything.

Me: “Could you show me, please? I can’t see anything.”

He grabs the book back and opens the front cover before pushing it in my face.

Me: “Sir, that’s the author’s signature.”

Customer: “I want a discount. I can’t give this as a gift!”

Me: “I can assure you, whoever you gift that book to will be pleased it has the author’s signature in it.”

Customer: *Grumbling* “You don’t know what you’re talking about. This book is completely ruined. It should be thrown away.”

He left it on the counter, and I put it back on the shelf.

Sometime later, a woman came in and asked about the same book. Thinking nothing of it, I took her to it and watched as she opened the cover and stared in awe as she clocked the signature. She bought it immediately.

After she left, I heard her shout, “You’re a f****** idiot!” and turned to see her just outside the door berating the man who had been in before. He looked like he was close to bursting a blood vessel.

A customer is checking out but is going very slowly because she absolutely refuses to slow down her conversation on her phone as she goes. What makes it worse is that she has her phone on loudspeaker, and she’s just holding the phone about a foot in front of her so that everyone can hear the conversation.

This is annoying me and the other customers in line, so I get the idea that if she’s going to include all of us in her conversation, we can also contribute.

Me: “She should leave him. He’s probably cheating.”

Customer: “Uh… what?”

The next customer in line sees what I have started and chimes in.

Next Customer: “Is he a Sagittarius? They are the worst.”

Me: “He could be. I heard this year is their angstiest year.”

Customer: “Uh… Excuse me, do you mind?!”

Me: “Yes, I do mind, but you’re doing it anyway, so I’m just throwing my two cents in.”

Next Customer: “Does your friend on the other line know that all of lane six knows her boyfriend gave her an STI?” *Shouts in the direction of the phone* “Stay strong, Sharon! The pus will stop eventually!”

Customer: *Running away, leaving her shopping behind* “Oh, my God, you’re all freaks!”

Worth it.

Today at my job, one of my coworkers got an award! The executive person came down to present it and get photos.

I was in the room doing my tasks. (It’s a pharmacy; there isn’t much privacy.) I heard them exclaim, “Photo time!” So, I did what I do best and went to Irish goodbye the situation.

The executive didn’t like that. He was very friendly and extended the offer for me to join the photos.

Me: *Politely* “No, thank you. I’m not a big picture person.”

He would not let up. So, with a polite smile on my face, I explained:

Me: “I don’t like taking photos because that is tangible proof that I am at a location. Such proof can be used by my abusers to try and find me. So, thank you, but no thanks.”

Ooh, he was uncomfortable. It made my day.

I followed up with an email to human resources asking them to remind their executives that “no” is a complete sentence.

Related:
No Means No, And Everyone Will Sleep Easier For It
No Means No, And No More Friends For You
No Means No Means ABSOLUTELY THE F*** NOT
No Means No, Even When You’re Three
No Means No (And No Beer)

I’ve worked in retail for almost five years now — I was seventeen when I started working, and I’m almost twenty-two — so I have a lot of stories. This one is rather recent. I got trained behind the customer service desk in a big company in the UK. We sell lottery tickets: Lotto, EuroMillions, Thunderball, Set For Life, etc. Lotto is only on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

This woman came in on a Thursday and asked for a Lotto ticket.

Me: “Do you want it for Saturday?”

Customer: “No, I want it for tonight.”

Me: “Lotto isn’t done on Thursday; Thursday is Thunderball, Set For Life, or the Health Board Lottery.”

She legitimately went from nice to angry in a second, like I’d flipped a switch.

Customer: “No, I always buy the Lotto on a Thursday!”

Me: “You can buy the Lotto for Thursday but the draw is on Wednesday or Saturday.”

Customer: “No! It is tonight!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but I have the machine in front of me which tells me what games are going on which days. Tonight is Set For Life, Thunderball, or the Health Board Lottery”

Customer: *Yelling* “No, it isn’t! Tonight is Lotto; give me a Lotto!”

Me: “I can print off a Lotto, but this will be for Saturday. Once it is printed, you will need to pay for it. Is this okay?”

Customer: “No, Lotto is on a f****** Thursday! I buy this every week!”

I had NEVER seen this woman before.

Me: *Defeated* “Okay, I’m going to print you off a Lotto.”

And I printed off a Lotto ticket — like she’d asked. She read the ticket and hit the roof when she saw that it said “SATURDAY” on it. She slammed it on the table and cursed at me.

Customer: “I f****** said Thursday!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, what colour is the ticket you’re after?”

Lotto is red, Thunderball is purple, EuroMillions is yellow, etc.

Customer: “It’s purple like it’s always f****** been!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, the Thunderball is purple, but Thunderball is on a Thursday. Is that the one you’re after, maybe?”

Customer: “Why are you lying? Lotto is purple!”

Me: “I’m not lying. Thunderball is purple. Lotto is red.”

Customer: “Lotto is not f****** red! Will you get me someone who knows what they’re doing?”

At that point, I called down my manager, who is a gem; he loves me, we’re amazing friends, and we get along really well. I explained to him what was happening.

Manager: “I’m sorry, miss, my colleague is right. Lotto is on a Wednesday and Saturday and is indeed red.”

The woman looked homicidal.

Me: *Still trying to help* “Okay, ma’am, why don’t you go down to the lottery station down there, pick out the paper slip you want, and choose your numbers? Then I can put it through and give you your ticket.”

Customer: “No, I want you to do your job and put my numbers in!”

She then told me her numbers. Five. Five numbers. Lotto has SIX numbers. Wanna know which lottery has five numbers? THUNDERBALL. I explained this to her, and she threw her hands up in dismay.

Customer: “Fine, f****** print me off a Thunderball.”

I did. With her numbers. Silence. I saw the colour drain from this woman’s face. She looked sheepish.

Me: *Nicely* “Did I help you find what you’re looking for?”

My manager was trying to hold back his laughter. The woman looked mad, but she couldn’t say jack to me.

Customer: “Yes, thank you.”

She grumbled, paid, and left.

Biggest yikes I’ve had in a while.

I am an assistant general manager for a chain hotel. A guest calls and asks for an extended stay due to their home burning down; insurance is going to be paying. I’ve seen this situation before. We make the reservation, and I promise to see him on Sunday.

As I suspected, I get to check him and his wife into their suite. Both seem to be of sound mind during check-in, although [Wife] does have a slight tremor. We offer a wheelchair and they decline, they head upstairs, and everyone is happy.

An hour later, my executive housekeeper comes to the desk to put in rooms.

Housekeeper: “I found [Wife] wandering the fifth floor. She’s in her room now, but I wanted to alert you to the possible issue.”

A short while later, [Housekeeper] calls me and essentially demands for me to come up to the floor.

This elderly woman is sitting on a bench in front of the elevator with no shoes and no socks, in a nightie. After being unable to get her back into her room, I leave the woman with my staff and go call the husband. He’s out with his brother but says he’ll be back soon.

Me: “If you do not come back in the time you promised, I’m calling the cops and getting your wife medical attention.”

I take a wheelchair upstairs to relieve my staff member and get this woman safely to her room. When we get into the room, guess what’s lying everywhere?

Lighters.

Her husband shows up and acts like nothing is wrong. I pull him aside and tell him plainly:

Me: “If this continues to happen and your wife goes unsupervised, we will have to call 911, and you will be asked to vacate the property.”

I checked periodically for the rest of the evening to ensure the wife’s safety.

Adult Protective Services were called and a report was made. The guests chose to depart early, threatening to call our corporate company for our “behavior”. I have no idea where they went, but I did call other hotels to alert them to a possible fire concern.