(I’m on my first shift at a new grocery store job as a cashier. The store isn’t very busy, and things have been running quite smoothly. A middle-aged customer and her teenage daughter approach my register. I ring her up and bag her items.)

Me: “That will be £8.90, please.”

(While smiling sweetly at me, she hands me £10. I give her the appropriate change and receipt.)

Woman: “Um, excuse me, trainee, but I handed you a £20 note.”

Me: “Oh, I’m very sorry, I’ll just check that for you.”

(During the transaction, I had opened only the register to put her £10 inside. Due to store policy, all £20 notes have to be put in a security box under the register. Therefore, no £20 notes are in the register at all. I apologize, and explain this to her. She is all the while still smiling sweetly.)

Woman: “No, stupid girl, it was definitely a 20, wasn’t it?” *turns to her daughter*

Daughter: “Yeah, I saw it.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but there is absolutely no physical £20 note in my cash register. Please, feel free to look.”

(She leans over and looks, then withdraws, still smiling.)

Woman: “Well, you must have just pocketed it while I wasn’t looking. Let’s not drag this out, honey. I’m not leaving until I get my change.”

(At this point, I call over my supervisor to help me deal with the situation. The woman explains her stance and I tell him exactly what I informed the customer. My supervisor explains that he would be more than happy to review security footage if she suspects theft. At this point her smile seems to disintegrate.)

Woman: “I really don’t have the time for this nonsense. If my hard-earned money means so much to that tramp then she can keep it.”

(The woman finally picks up her bag and leaves, her daughter following briskly, but not before telling me to ‘get a life.’ My supervisor leans in and speaks in a low voice.)

Supervisor: “Don’t worry about her. The girl she was with does the same thing whenever there’s a new face on a register. Now I see where she gets it from.”

(I am a waiter in a high-class restaurant. In my section is a cute couple, and from the looks and blushing, it appears they’re on their first date. Both have several visible piercings, and from what I can see on the young woman, they both have tattoos. They’re talking quietly to each other, not disturbing anyone. I’m called over to a nearby table with a dining couple in their mid-forties.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am, how may I help you?”

Diner: *loudly* “I want that disrespectful couple out!”

(The diner points to the other couple. Both look up.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. What seems to be the problem?”

Diner: “Look at them! They’re disgusting! That woman shouldn’t be seen in public!”

(I see the young woman’s head go down.)

Diner: “And that man should be ashamed! They’re ruining the entire atmosphere!”

(Now both of the couple are looking at their plates. I can barely hear the young woman mumble to her date.)

Young Woman: “Maybe we should go…”

(Both start to stand. I motion for them to sit. I turn back to the loud diner.)

Me: “Ma’am, I am going to have to ask you and your husband to leave.”

Diner: *scoffs* “What for?!”

Me: “For disturbing the peace, and ‘ruining the atmosphere.’ I will escort you to the door.”

Diner: “You can’t do that!”

Me: “Alright, I’ll go get my manager and have him escort you out.”

(Sure enough, my manager agrees with me and makes the older couple leave.)

Woman: “You’ve just lost your best customers, you heathen!”

(The young couple thank me, and they get 10% off their check for their troubles. They come back every couple of months, requesting me. The last time they come in, there is a decent-sized rock on the young woman’s finger.)

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(I am helping a customer who, with her six-year-old son, pick out stain for her deck. I am the only person in the paint department. Another customer comes up to my desk. I call for backup.)

Me: *to Customer #2* “It should only be a few minutes wait.”

(After about 30 more seconds, Customer #2 storms down the aisle to where I am still working with Customer #1.)

Customer #2: *to Customer #1* “This isn’t personal shopper day! Other people need help; you need to get your s*** and leave!” *to me* “Get your a** on the phone and get someone over here to serve me, b****!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, he was with another customer. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

Customer #2: *goes back to the desk to wait* “B****!”

Me: *to Customer #1* “I’m sorry about that—”

Customer #1’s Young Son: “It’s okay lady! She is my lunch lady, and she is mean to EVERYONE! Don’t listen to her; you’re doing great helping mommy!”

(I’m stocking food in one of the grocery aisles. At the opposite end of the aisle are two teenage boys and a pair of bald women customers. One of the customers has dark brown patches on her scalp and is wearing sunglasses. The other has clear skin, is wearing a nice dress and extravagant earrings. I’m a male with alopecia, so seeing young, balding people doesn’t really mystify me. The two teenage boys start to point and laugh at them.)

Teenage Boy #1: “Man, these two d***’s think they look so good! Bald b**** trying to look girly; she’d look hot if she didn’t have a nasty man head!”

Teenage Boy #2: “Look at the nasty spots on her head!”

Teenage Boy #1: “Nasty spotty b**** with her nasty lesbian friend!”

(Horrified, I start to storm over to stop this, when the customer with patchy skin whips around, mere inches from the teenage boy’s faces and speaks through gritted teeth.)

Customer #1: “I have f****** cancer! Metastatic breast cancer. I probably don’t have very long to f****** live. These ‘nasty spots’ are lesions. My best friend shaved her head to support me. She’s the best support system you could f****** ask for, and if you two have a support system in making fun of two women whose lives you don’t even know, then I’m sorry for you. So, I’ll thank you to hold off on these comments in the future, just in case the people you’re berating are either dying or about to lose someone they love.”

(The color leaves the boys faces, and they hang their heads low, while the women walk down the aisle toward me. Customer #2 turns back to them.)

Customer #2: “Oh, and even if we were bald lesbians, you still had better keep your d*** mouths shut!”

(As they walk past me, I tip my hat off to them to reveal my smooth, shiny head. The women high five me, and walk to the next aisle arm in arm.)

(As the manager of a large bookstore, part of my job is to call customers who have written bad checks to arrange payment. I call one such customer. I identify myself and verify that I am speaking to the check-writer.)

Me: “I’m calling in regard to a check you wrote for $534 on [date]. It has been returned for insufficient funds, so we’ll need you to come by—”

Customer: “Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re calling me about this! I gave you the books back!”

Me: “I’m sorry? You gave them back? Did you speak to anyone?”

Customer: “Of course! I gave them to the cashier and filled out paperwork!”

(On a hunch, I search the returns for her name. She did return the books, and got a cash refund.)

Me: “Okay, I see you brought them back on [date] and got a cash refund. Is that right?”

Customer: “Yes! And you should be fired for calling me at home for no reason!”

Me: “Ma’am, you still have to pay for the bounced check.”

Customer: “What? I don’t have the books! I am not paying for books I don’t have!”

Me: “You wrote a bad check for merchandise, then returned the merchandise for cash. But the check is still worthless and has to be paid.”

Customer: “What kind of idiot are you? Listen carefully: I. Do. Not. Have. Your. Books. I gave them back and that’s the end of it.”

Me: “I’m afraid it doesn’t matter whether you have the books or not. Now, instead of books, you have our money and we still have a worthless check. You really need to take care of this, or it will be a police matter. I’m sure you don’t want me to go to the magistrate.”

Customer: “Are you calling me a thief?! If you turn me into the police, I’ll have YOU arrested for false reports! I’ll have your job for this! I am a school teacher! I teach math!”

Me: “Ma’am. I need you to follow along here. You wrote a bad check for merchandise, and then returned that merchandise for cash. That is fraud, and it is in an amount that can get you in serious trouble.”

(The customer screams about how I am trying to rob her of money, then hangs up. I phone back a few days later to give her another chance. Still furious, she sticks to her guns. I try my best but she just won’t listen or try to understand. After sending her several certified demand letters, I have no choice but to file a criminal complaint. Being over $400 it is a felony fraud charge. Not long afterward I get a final phone call from her.)

Customer: “ARE YOU THE B**** WHO SENT THE POLICE TO MY SCHOOL?!”

Me: “Ma’am, I had to turn your NSF check over for prosecution because you refused to pay. I gave you many chances to avoid that.”

Customer: “I MIGHT LOSE MY JOB! I have never been so humiliated! I’m going to sue you and your company for this! You are going to jail for what you’re doing to me!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, I’ve tried everything to make you understand, so do what you think you need to do.”

(Ultimately, she was found guilty and told to pay the check and fee, plus court costs. Even when the magistrate explained it to her, she refused to believe that she owed the money.)