(I am a customer getting my items, when, from behind me, a man around 20 to 30 years old goes up to one of the store’s employees.)

Customer: “Where the h*** do you keep your F***ING baked beans?!”

Employee: “Baked beans? Right this way, sir.”

(I am in need of baked beans myself, so I decide to follow them.)

Employee: “Here are our baked beans, sir.”

Customer: “These are NOT baked beans!”

Employee: “I’m sorry, sir, but these are baked beans.”

Customer: “No! These are TIN beans. I want baked beans!”

Employee: “Sir, the baked beans are inside the tins.”

Customer: “What? I don’t want them in a tin. I want them out of the tin!”

Employee: “I’m sorry, sir, but this is how baked beans are stored.”

Customer: “Baked beans don’t need to be stored!” *storms out of the store*

(Every month at our theatre, we receive a few boxes of new ticket stock which weighs about 25 lbs a box. I currently have a cast on my left arm.)

Me: “Hey, can you help me move these to the shelf? It’s hard to lift them one handed.”

Coworker: “Mmmm… not right now.”

Me: “What? Why? It would take literally two minutes of your time.”

Coworker: “But I’m reading ‘Not Always Working’!”

Me: “Ah… I see?”

Coworker: “Just take your cast off and do it yourself.”

Me: “But I can’t just pull it off—”

Coworker: “This s*** is hilarious. I’m glad I don’t work with these jerks.”

Customer: “Can I put some CDs on hold?”

Me: “Sure, just pick out what you want and we can put them behind the counter.  However, we will only hold items for 24 hours.”

Customer: “That’s fine. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

(The customer then spends about an hour picking out approximately 20 CDs.)

Customer: “Can you tell me how much they will be?”

(I add up the prices using a calculator.)

Me: “The total for the CDs is $280, but with sales tax it will be around $295.”

Customer: “Okay, that’s fine.”

Me: “They’ll be here behind the counter until tomorrow when we close. After that time, we’ll put them back.”

(The customer does not come back the next day. I leave the CDs behind the counter for a few more days, just in case. About two weeks later, I’m eating my lunch in the back when a coworker interrupts me.)

Coworker: “I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s a customer out here who says you put some CDs on hold for him. I can’t seem to find them and he’s getting really mad.”

(I go up to the register and recognize the customer. His arms are crossed and he’s tapping his foot impatiently.)

Customer: “Yes! You were the one! Where are my CDs?”

Me: “Sir, I told you that we could only hold them for 24 hours. That was almost two weeks ago. I even waited a few extra days before putting them back.”

Customer: “You didn’t tell me I only had 24 hours!”

Me: “Yes, I’m sure that I did. I tell everybody.”

Customer: “Do you know how long it took me to find those? Now I’m going to have to do it all over again and you’re going to help me since this is your fault!”

(We spend about 45 minutes going around the store together. The whole time, he continues to yell at me and complain that he was never told about the 24 hour rule and I’ve made him waste his time. When he says he’s done, we bring the CDs up to the counter and I ring up everything while my coworker puts them in bags.)

Me: “Okay, the total is $293.79.”

Customer: “What?! How the h*** could it be that much?!”

Me: “Well, you have about 20 CDs here. That’s why it is so much. I told you the price the last time you came in.”

Customer: “You did not! Liar! LIAR!”

Me: “Yes, I did. I added them up on a calculator. I told you that with sales tax the total amount would be around $295.”

Customer: “YOU DID NOT!”

Me: “Okay… fine, but regardless the total is $293.79.”

Customer: “I want a discount for your lousy service!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there will be no discount.”

Customer: “Well, I need these CDs immediately or else I’d just walk out, but be warned that I’m going to make a complaint about you!”

(He gives me a credit card, which is declined. He gives me another credit card, which is also declined. He wants to write a check, but our store does not accept checks for purchases over $100.)

Customer: “I don’t have much cash! What am I going to do? Can I just write you an IOU? I’ll be back tomorrow morning with the money.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but that is not possible. My only suggestions would be to put some of the CDs back—”

Customer: “No!”

Me: “—or perhaps we can try to spread out the total amount over the credit cards, a check, and cash.”

Customer: “Do that!”

(We spend quite awhile trying smaller and smaller amounts on his credit cards, but they’re all declined. He only has $6 cash, which only leaves a check.)

Customer: “You can take a check for the whole amount, can’t you?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry.  Even if I wanted to, the register won’t accept check amounts over $100.”

Customer: “Just put the whole thing in as cash!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that either.”

Customer: “How about YOU pay for them and I’ll pay you back? You OWE me at least that much!”

Me: “That is not going happen, sir.”

(He spends a few minutes pacing and mumbling that he needs the CDs and he doesn’t understand why I won’t work with him. Eventually, he dumps the CDs out of the bags and begins to go through them.)

Customer: “I can’t choose! Just put them all on hold for me and I’ll be back tomorrow morning!”

Me: “Okay, but you do understand that if you do not come back by close tomorrow, that the CDs will be put back, right?”

Customer: “YES!”

Me: “24 hours… tomorrow… right?”

Customer: “YES! I’M NOT STUPID!”

(He never came back.)

(I am serving at a very busy restaurant downtown with a very large patio. Outside the patio entrance, there is a big red stop sign that reads, “Please wait to be seated.” Two customers in their late twenties walk past the sign and rudely ignore the hostess’s calls to stop. They sit down at a dirty table. I walk up to the table and start stacking the empty glasses from previous guests.)

Me: “Hello—”

Customer: “REAL NICE! We came here for a nice lunch and have to sit at a dirty table?! Unbelievable!”

Me: “Sorry about that, folks. We’re really busy and the guests from this table just left less than a minute ago. Let me take care of that for—”

Customer: “Is that supposed to be some kind of excuse?! How hard is your job, really?! What a joke! You’d think you people would have some kind of system to address these things!”

Me: “Again, I’m very sorry. Normally, we clean a table before the next guest is seated by our hostess, but you seem to have seated yourself, so let me take care of that for—“

Customer: “Who?! That rude little girl that yelled at us on the way in?!”

(At this point, I’m holding a stack four or five pint glasses in one hand, a billfold from the last table in the other, and four menus under my arm, and I’m trying to keep table 44’s apps and drink order in my head.)

Me: “Ma’am, she didn’t yell at you. She plainly said, ‘Excuse me,’ to try and get your attention.”

Customer: *scoffs and YANKS the menus out from under my arm*

Me: “Ma’am, it’s not exactly polite walk past the sign, ignore the host, and be upset that YOU sat yourself at a dirty table.”

Customer: “Sign? What sign?!”

Me: “The big one at the front that says, ‘Please wait to be seated.'”

Customer: “Yeah, well, what if I told you I can’t read? Huh? Then what?!”

Me: “Well, that’s why it’s red and shaped like an octagon so you’ll associate it with ‘Stop.'”

Customer: *smugly* “Yeah?! Well, maybe I’m color blind, too!”

Me: “Well then, sweetie, it sounds like you’re gonna have a really tough time with our menu.”

(I walk away before she has a chance to respond. I eventually circle back to their table with two kiddie paper coloring menus and crayons. A few minutes later, they are gone but have scrawled a note on the back of the kiddie menu. This is exactly what it says:)

Customer’s Note: “YOUR A A**HOLL WERER NEVER COMMING BACK AGAN”

(It was also followed by a very crude scribble that a coworker and I later concluded had to be an attempt to draw male genitalia.)

This story is part of our Crayon Roundup!

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(I’ve brought a large pepperoni pizza with me to work. After I get my customers out of the store, I grab a slice and sit to enjoy it. At this precise moment, a regular who is a total prick walks in. Note: I only share food with people I genuinely like.)

Me: “Good evening. How are you?”

Regular: “What’re you doing?” *cranes his neck to see what I’m eating* “Oh! You have pizza! Give me a piece!”

(I close the box and move it out of his reach.)

Me: “No way! It’s mine!”

Regular: “Well, why not? It’s not like you’re going to eat the whole thing, skinny b****!”

Me: “Yeah, like insulting me is going to convince me to give you a slice.”

Regular: “Why can’t you just give me a piece?! You’re not going to eat the whole thing! Skinny b****es don’t eat much!”

Me: “You’re not getting my food. ”

Regular: “Well, I’ll tell [my manager]. She’ll make you give me a piece!”

Me: “Yeah, go ahead. She’s in the office.”

(The regular opens the office door and pokes his head in.)

Regular: [My manager], [my name] won’t share her pizza! Make her share!”

My Manager: “It’s her pizza. She bought it with her own money. I can’t make her give it to you.”

Regular: “What!? But I want pizza!”

My Manager: “Well, go buy yourself one then.”

Regular: *storms out without buying anything*

My Manager: “That was strange.”

Me: “Yep.” *holding out the box* “Want a slice?”