I am closing up the post office with my coworker when a man strolls in and casually places a small package on the counter.

Customer: “I need this to get to Oregon by midnight. It’s important.”

Me: “I’m afraid the fastest we could do is [super expensive third-party rate] overnight, and that would get there by tomorrow.” 

Customer: “No! This is America! You will do this for me!”

Me: “I’m afraid I cannot, sir. It is physically impossible.”

Customer: “It is! This is America! Anything is possible!”

Me: “Sir, you’re asking me to send this package from here in Florida, where it is currently 4:55 pm on a Friday, and get it to Oregon by midnight. Even if I got it onto a plane right now, it would still need to go through multiple sorting offices when it arrives. It’s not possible unless you took it yourself.” 

Customer: “But… This is America!” 

Me: “Sir, what exactly are you expecting to happen when you say that?”

Customer: “To get my own way, d*** it!” 

Me: “Does it usually work?”

Customer: “Yes! Because this is America!” 

Me: “Yes, it is, and I still can’t do what you ask.” 

Customer: *Storming out* “You’re a bad American!”

Coworker: “Please, God, no one tell him you’re Canadian. He’ll use that to justify his personal brand of madness!”

I am working in a charity store that mostly sells books. Everything is donated and second-hand, and therefore quite cheap. Because it’s for charity, we don’t haggle.

A very old customer approaches the counter with a collection of books. Most are old paperbacks from our dollar bin.

Manager: “Okay, that’ll be ten dollars.”

Customer: “What?! I thought it was ten for a dollar!”

Manager: “No, it’s a dollar each, and you have ten books.”

Customer: “You big bunch of crooks!”

If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it, but the old lady takes her walking cane and slams it on the counter with force much stronger than one would imagine common in a woman of her age.

Customer: “Back in my day, we could get a new book for a nickel!” 

Manager: “Back in your day, nickel had just been discovered!”

A few months ago, my store had a rainbow-themed line of items. Though we did get some negative feedback, a majority of our customers liked that we had the products.

Except Grumpy.

Grumpy is a man in his sixties who often comes in just to hold some poor employee hostage and rant at them until they offer him a gift card for his issues. Today, he has picked me.

Grumpy: “Hey! What’s with all the gay stuff?” 

Me: “Gay stuff?”

Grumpy: “That!” 

He points to some of the rainbow-themed products.

Me: “What about it?” 

Grumpy: “It’s gay!”

I know what he’s up to, and usually, I don’t have the time for him, but today I decide to make the time.

Me: “What’s gay?”

Grumpy: “That!” 

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Grumpy: “The rainbow!”

Me: “Rainbows are gay? 

Grumpy: “No! They are from God!“ 

Me: “I still don’t understand. You don’t like rainbows?”

Grumpy: *Louder* “No! The rainbow is a sign from God, and you and your [homophobic slur] friends took it!” 

Me: “I don’t understand, sir. You’re mad about the — as you put it — ‘gay stuff’, and then you said it was about the rainbows, which you also said were from God. I’m not following. Do you dislike the rainbow-themed products or not?”

Grumpy: “You’re being obtuse!” 

Me: “I’m just trying to understand what the issue actually is.”

Grumpy: “You idiot!” 

He left. That was the first time he did not get a gift card for his tantrum!

Customer: “I want to return this.”

Me: “Can I see the receipt, please?”

Customer: “I don’t have it anymore.”

Me: “We haven’t sold this item since last year. Normally, without a receipt, I can only give you store credit, but since this item is no longer one that we sell, I can’t even do that, I’m afraid.”

Customer: “Just give me the store credit based on how much you’d resell it for, then!”

Me: “That would just be a penny, sir.”

Customer: “Why are you refusing me customer service?!”

Me: “The return policy is within thirty days and requires you to have a receipt. Those are the terms of customer service.”

Customer: “You’re just paid to say that!”

Me: “As a matter of fact, I am paid to say that. That’s how jobs work.”

Related:
Well, We’re Not Here For Fun!

Twice now, a client has loudly complained that he can’t complete his work because he is on a Mac and can’t right-click. I explain to him that if he holds “Control” and clicks simultaneously, it will provide the same options as right-clicking.

These instructions stump him, so I have to go and point out the “Control” key on his laptop. He looks blankly at the keyboard.

Client: *Indignantly* “Obviously, but where is ‘Click’?”