Feeding The Baby And The Trolls

| KS, USA | Right | December 13, 2013

(I work at a renaissance festival every year for the past 11 years. My son is about 6 months old. As there is no spot designated for breastfeeding, I just find somewhere quiet and out of the way. Two patrons notice me.)

Patron #1: “Oh, my God. What are you doing!?”

Me: “Beg your pardon? Are you talking to me?”

Patron #1: “Yes, of course! That is so nasty. You should be ashamed. That is absolutely disgusting, and sinful, and child abuse.”

Me: “Oh, please. I do not want to hear it. I’m feeding my son. There is nothing wrong with it and it’s my right to do it wherever I want.”

Patron #2: “He’s right. You can’t do that here. Take that nasty s*** where it belongs. Get a f****** bottle.”

Me: “Leave me alone, please. I have a right by Kansas law to feed my son anywhere I want.”

Patron #1: “Feed him with a bottle. That’s nasty and unsanitary. You’re abusing him by making him do that. Why you feminist b****es want to do that is beyond me. You’re so gross.”

Me: “Okay. I’m not going to defend myself to you. So, just keep moving guys.”

(One of my fellow festival participants comes along.)

Participant: “Excuse me, gentlemen. Is there something I can do to help you?”

Patron #2: “Yeah. You can make her leave. No one wants to see that!”

Patron #1: “You guys shouldn’t allow that in your festival. You’re promoting child abuse.”

Participant: “She actually has every right to be here as she’s a member of the faire, as is her baby. She has to feed him, gentlemen. If it bothers you, please feel free to look away from her.”

Patron #1: “No. I want to sit on that bench right there and watch the gypsy’s dance. She needs to move.”

Me: “I’m not moving. If you want to watch the show and don’t want to sit by me, go sit somewhere else.”

(All the participants carry a walkie-talkie to contact security. This participant calls them.)

Patron #1: “That’s right. You get someone here to make her leave.”

(I move my son to burp him and switch sides. One of the patrons grabs my arm and attempts to remove me himself. I have my hands full with my son. I spot a group of yeomen (royal guards) walking by and immediately start yelling for them.)

Me: “Insuth! Insuth!”

(This is a way to alert other performers that I am NOT acting, and that I am in actual danger. The yeomen run over and one of them draws his sword, which is very real.)

Yeoman: “I’d suggest you let the lady go. It appears she does not wish to accompany you.”

Patron #2: “This little b**** needs to get the f*** out and we’re going to help show her the way.”

(The other three yeomen draw their swords as well.)

Yeoman: “I’m really thinking that is not going to happen. As it is, you gentlemen will be the ones leaving the grounds.”

Patron #1: *sarcastically* “Oh, yeah. You and your fake weapons are gonna make us, right?”

(One of the yeomen steps up to the tree that is next to him and takes a swing at it. The sword embeds several inches before he pulls it back out to show it is very real and sharp.)

Yeoman: “Is that demonstration enough for you, sir? Would you like another?”

(Finally, security arrives and holds the patrons until two state troopers come and arrest them. The yeoman who helped me was given a pin of achievement, as he had not broken character during the entire ordeal. I made them muffins every morning for the rest of the festival and have done so every year since.)

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Walking A Mile With Another Man’s Candy

| Charlotte, NC, USA | Right | December 12, 2013

(I am checking out a customer.)

Me: “Hello! How are you doing today?”

(The customer just mumbles something. I am scanning his groceries. I am almost finished when he says something to me.)

Customer: “Grab me a couple of sneakers back there.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir?”

Customer: “Get me two sneakers from over there!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I do not understand what you are asking for.”

Customer: “Are you stupid or deaf? A COUPLE D*** SNEAKERS! RIGHT BEHIND YOU! JESUS CHRIST!”

Me: “Sir, there is no need to take that tone with me, as I am neither deaf or stupid.”

(The customer is getting furious with me. The next customer behind him in line tries to clarify the misunderstanding.)

Next Customer: “I think he’s asking for SNICKERS Candy Bars.”

Me: “Thank you. I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get them for you.”

Customer: “Never mind! If you’re too f****** stupid to understand what I am asking for, what the h*** are you doing workin’ with customers?!”

Me: “Sir, I apologized for not understanding you. But you can not and will not talk to me in that foul manner. There are children around. Even if there weren’t, you should never speak to anyone like that. That is completely uncalled for!”

Customer: “F*** you! Give me my d*** change!”

Me: “Yes, sir.”

(He finally gets his things and leaves. The next customer steps up.)

Next Customer: “I didn’t understand him at first. I thought he was asking for a d*** pair of shoes!” *laughs*

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Nothing But Air Between His Bun

, | Hertfordshire, England, UK | Right | December 12, 2013

(I work in a burger restaurant. We’ve just started a new promotion with two new burgers.)

Me: “Hi there. Can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, umm… Can I try your new burger?”

Me: “Sure. Is that the cheddar burger or the Mediterranean chicken burger?”

Customer: “Uh… what’s the difference?”

Me: “The cheddar burger is a beef burger with cheddar cheese, while the Mediterranean is a chicken burger with peppers and salsa.”

Customer: “I… I don’t know?”

Me: “This one…” *points to picture* “…is our new beef burger, and this one…” *points to another picture* “…is our new chicken burger.”

Customer: “Oh right! So, can I get the new one?”

Me: “Chicken or beef, sir?”

Customer: “Uh… chicken? I guess?

Me: “So, just to check you want the Mediterranean chicken burger? This burger here?”

Customer: “I think so.”

Me: “Okay. Anything else for you?”

Customer: “So, what have I ordered?”

Me: “This burger here, sir.” *points to picture again* “The Mediterranean chicken burger.”

Customer: “Wait, what’s in it?”

Me: “Crispy chicken, peppers, lettuce, salsa and mayo. Is that okay?”

Customer: “Yeah, sounds good!”

(I hand the customer his meal and he walks off. He’s back about 10 minutes later, with half of the burger.)

Customer: “Erm, this isn’t what I ordered.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I thought you wanted the Mediterranean chicken?”

Customer: “No. I wanted the new burger. That one!” *points at cheddar burger picture*

Me: “Oh, right… Okay. I’ll just get that for you. Have you already eaten half of the chicken burger?”

Customer: “Yeah, sorry! I didn’t realise until now that it wasn’t the beef one.”

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And The Father Of Despair Is On Aisle Three

| MT, USA | Right | December 12, 2013

(I am doing a return for a customer. She is getting money back for it. I have to get a manager to come up to open the register. To do so, I call over our walkie-talkies.)

Me: “Can I get an M.O.D to customer service?”

Customer: “M.O.D?”

Me: “Oh, M.O.D just means ‘manager on duty.'”

Customer: “Oh! I thought it stood for ‘Mother of Destruction!’”

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He Has The Floor Model But His Wife Has The Floor

| Allentown, PA, USA | Right | December 12, 2013

(My fair-trade, non-profit store is rather on the small side. We have no stockroom, meaning that all of our available merchandise is on the sales floor. One night I am working alone when new customers come in. The wife is very pleasant, but the husband decides that he’s going to do everything in his power to mess with me. After about twenty minutes of his questioning my store’s mission, whether we really qualify as a non-profit, and why he should care about the people who make the products we sell, he and his wife decide on a silk lamp. We have only one available.)

Customer: “How much is the lamp?”

Me: “That is [price].”

Customer: “I mean after my discount. You’re going to give me a discount because I’m buying the floor model.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t have a back room. Everything we sell is the ‘floor model.’ It’s going to be [price].”

Customer: “Oh, come on! You gotta give me some kind of discount!”

Customer’s Wife: “Honey, stop talking before I tell her to add on a bonus charge for having to put up with you.”

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