(I’m with my wife at a well-known fast food place, and they employ a young man with special needs who we both know and are very friendly with. An angry customer accosts him at the register.)

Customer: “S***, they’re taking so f****** long with my food!”

Employee: “Just a sec, sir…”

Customer: “You’d better!”

(Not three minutes later, the employee comes with the customer’s food.)

Employee: “Here you go, sir.”

Customer: “Where’s the f****** ranch?”

Employee: “Right away, sir!”

Customer: “No, forget it! You’ll probably slobber all over it!”

Wife: “Excuse me, sir, but this young man is doing his job. He’s not doing anything to hurt you, so how about you shut the f*** up!”

Customer: “F*** you, fat a**!”

Employee: “She’s a nice lady! There’s a baby inside her, and she’s not fat!”

Customer: “F*** you!” *storms out, upsetting some chairs*

Wife: *to the employee* “People are so mean to you, honey. I’m so sorry, I can’t believe he said that to you, that a**hole!”

Employee: *grinning* “Don’t worry about it, Jesus and my mama still love me!” *walks away, the happiest man on earth*

This story is part of our celebration of Not Always Right publishing over 100,000 stories!

This story is included in the roundup of absolute classic stories to toast this achievement!

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(I walk in and stand in a line. I’ve been there for all of five seconds before a man runs in, elbows his way to the front of the queue and slams a burger in front of the cashier. She is a young teenager.)

Customer: “You f****** b****! How many f****** times do I have to tell you no f****** sauce?!”

Cashier: *smiling all the way through the exchange* “I’m sorry, sir, what seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “You f****** up my burger! I want a refund now!”

Cashier: “Certainly, sir! Do you remember what time you came in at?”

Customer: “How am I supposed to f****** know? You’re the one who took the d*** order!”

Cashier: “I’ll have a look, sir, if you give me one moment.”

(She taps her screen, all the while being yelled abuse at by the customer. All the other customers have since cleared out, except for me. I motion to the cashier that I’ve called the police.)

Cashier: “Hm… oh, is this your order?” *rattles off a few items*

Customer: “Yes, that’s my d*** order! Now give me my f****** refund!”

Cashier: “Certainly, sir, let me just authorise that for you.”

(She taps on her screen some more and swipes a card a few times.)

Customer: “F****** hurry up, you b****! My f****** dinner’s getting cold!”

Cashier: “My apologies, sir, give me one moment. Would you like me to give you a fresh order?”

Customer: “You’d better, you b****!”

Cashier: *hands customer his refunded money* “Okay, it’ll be three minutes to cook your order so if you’d like to sit down-”

(At this point the man throws the money he’s just been given at the cashier and screams abuse at her. She picks up the change and counts it.)

Cashier: “Your change comes up to £3.71, which is just enough for another meal. Which one would you like?”

Customer: “Would you just hurry up and give me my d*** food! Are you f****** simple or something?”

Cashier: “No, just distracting you ’till the police get here.”

(Two uniformed police officers walk in and take the man away, who is still cursing. The manager walks out of a side room which he has been hiding in–he’s about thirty and male–and offers her a promotion on the spot. She promptly tells him that she’d rather die than be spineless like him and quits. She then pockets the change, grabs most of the food on display and leaves, but not before thanking me and sharing half the food with me.)

(I am working as a cashier and two customers come in talking loudly about how dumb minimum wage fast-food workers are. One of them decides to prove it…)

Customer: “Let me ask you a question. What’s 7 times 7?”

Me: “49.”

Customer: “What’s 8 times 8?”

Me: “64.”

Customer: “E equals MC squared?”

Me: “What about it?”

Customer: “What does it mean?”

Me: “Energy equals mass times the speed of light squared.”

Customer: “Uhm…”

Me: “Would you like fries with that?”

This story is part of our customers-treating-staff-like-they’re-sub-human roundup!

Read the next story in this roundup!

Read the customers-treating-staff-like-they’re-sub-human roundup!

(It is prom season. We have a lot of girls coming in to try on dresses. Three girls have been trying on heaps of dresses. They finally select the ones they want.)

Me: “I see you’ve made your final selection! If you just bring them to the register, I’ll be happy to ring you up.”

(Their mother walks over.)

Mother: “Oh, what lovely dresses!”

Girl: “Yeah. We had to go through a lot of dresses before we found anything decent.”

(The mother gets a weird look on her face.)

Mother, to me: “Excuse me, miss?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Mother: “Are those the dressing rooms?”

Me: “Yes.”

Mother: “Do you mind if I run in there for a minute?”

Me: “Go ahead!”

(The mother walks in, and sees all the dresses on the floor of the dressing rooms. She comes out fuming.)

Mother: “You girls march right in there, pick up every dress, and hang them back up! Right now!”

Girl: “Why? It’s her job!”

Mother: “I did not raise a bunch of pigs! Get in there now, or you won’t be going to prom!”

This story is part of our celebration of Not Always Right publishing over 100,000 stories!

This story is included in the roundup of absolute classic stories to toast this achievement!

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(A couple walk in, the lady in front, the man trailing tiredly behind. The lady spins around the store.)

Me: “Can I help you with anything today?”

Lady: “I need these pants in size zero, pronto.”

Me: “Who are you getting them for?”

Lady: “MYSELF! What do you think!”

(I get her what she wants, she takes them and goes into a change room.)

Lady: “HEY, these are defective! Get me another pair!”

Me: “May I suggest a bigger size?”

Lady: “Are you saying I look fat? That I can’t fit into these pants?! I’ll have you know, I always wear size zero… these pants must be made wrong! Now get me another pair!”

Man: “Honey, those are really small pants, just try a slightly bigger one.”

(Without a pause, she turns around and slaps the man.)

Lady: “Why can’t you just be on my side! That was so rude! You’re sleeping on the couch tonight!”

Man: “We don’t live together.”

Lady: “What do you mean! We moved in last week… remember?”

Man: “No… we don’t live together.”

(The lady realizes he’s not caving. She flicks a look at me, then tries a different route.)

Lady: “Well, I mean, you’re still sleeping on the couch in your own apartment! To show remorse for disrespecting me. Or else!”

Man: “Or else what?”

Lady: “Or else I’m dumping you!”

Man: “… Okay.”

Lady: “You just–you just like HER, don’t–” *walks out fast, sobbing*

(The man stayed behind and apologized to me. My shift was ending so we went for dinner, and long story short he’s now my fiance! Couldn’t ask for a better man, and I’ve got to thank that lady someday for making it all possible…)