We have a lot of people who come in with tech issues, and I get why they do. We sell phones, and we sell wireless service; hence, if you’re having an issue with your phone or your service, you bring the phone to us so we can troubleshoot.

But then, we have people who come in to ask us for help with their Facebook or WhatsApp. These are the two main apps people come in to ask us for help with, and I use neither of these apps.

A lot of the time, people come in acting like they’re helpless, don’t know how to read, and don’t know how to Google search. A lot of the “troubleshooting” I do is literally just Googling the issue. I will do my best to help so long as the customer is being polite and respectful.

When I moved to my current store from a different location, one of the first interactions I had was with a couple maybe in their mid-fifties who came in with a HUGE SENSE OF URGENCY about the fact that the wife had made two different Facebook profiles.

Wife: “I just can’t figure out how to log into the right account!”

She couldn’t log into the one she actually wanted to be logged into? Simple enough. I logged her out of the first account and then went to log into the other one she wanted.

Wife: “I don’t know the email for that account!”

Me: “The password?”

Wife: “That account has a password?”

Oy vey.

I selected usage of the recovery phone number and showed her the last four digits.

Me: “Recovery instructions will be sent to this number.”

Wife: “But why? Why that number? That number was discontinued a long time ago! I thought you worked in phones?!”

Me: “Then I don’t know what to tell you. Without the email, password, or access to the recovery number, I can’t log you into that Facebook account.”

Of course, she tried to get me to log her back into the account we had just logged her out of, and she knew none of the security details for that one, either.

Wife: *Screaming* “You’ve deleted everything! You’ve ruined everything! Now I have no Facebook, and it’s all your fault!”

My manager came over to try to de-escalate the situation, and in doing so, he began to secretly record the interaction in case it got too out of hand. This lady was so rude, and she was whining like her not being able to log into Facebook was literally the end of the world.

My manager was able to solve the issue somehow. (Miracle Man, I tell you what.)

The couple left, and I didn’t see them again for months until the other day. As soon as I saw them, I was like, “F***…” I had to at least see what they needed; it may have been an actual issue that I’m expected to solve per my job description.

Welp, guess what they came in for?

FACEBOOK SUPPORT, AGAIN!

Wife: “I made too many Facebook accounts! I don’t know how to log out and delete the extra ones!”

Yup. Again.

I took her phone, and I Googled “How to delete a Facebook account.” A ton of articles popped up. I put her phone back in front of her, and she glanced down at it and sighed.

Wife: “I don’t know what to do!”

Me: “There’s an entire list of articles explaining how to delete Facebook accounts on your phone.”

Wife: “I need you to do it.”

I very calmly folded my hands and put them on the counter in front of me.

Me: “I can’t help you with that. The last time you were in here, you yelled at me for ‘deleting’ your account and ‘ruining everything,’ so I’m not going to mess with this.”

She just looked at me dumbfounded.

Wife: “I never said that. Sorry, no, I never said that.”

As my manager had made a recording of the incident, and I had it saved on my phone (for those “you won’t believe what happened to me at work” conversations), I was able to quickly pull the video up and show her saying exactly that.

Her husband, realizing that his wife was not the kind of person who would de-escalate this situation, jumped in quickly.

Husband: “Well, what are we supposed to do?”

Me: “You can try the [Electronics Chain Support Team]. They know how to troubleshoot apps. We are here to help with your service or technical issues with your phone. We are not obligated to provide service for apps.”

They ended up leaving. Somehow, the lady didn’t scream at me or anything — I think she was shocked that we had evidence to shut her down so totally — but they were clearly frustrated that I refused to help them.

I’m a female in my mid-twenties working in retail, which means that, very often, sometimes more than once per day, an old and creepy male customer will ask me:

Customer: “So, what time do you get off? Can I get you a coffee?”

I always try to let them down politely.

Me: “Uh, I finish quite late, but I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

Of course, hinteth never getteth:

Customer: “Oh, I don’t mind waiting. You look like you’re worth the wait.” *Stares creepily*

So now, I just jokingly say:

Me: “Oh, actually, I live here. I never get off shift.”

This usually does the trick (i.e., I am never having a coffee with you), but for those who seriously do not get it and press further…

Customer: “Oh, come on now. I’m being serious.”

Me: *Also being serious, suddenly lowering my voice* “No… seriously… My boss is doing me a favor. Rent is insane. I sleep in the back. Please don’t tell anyone!”

Customer: “Are… are you joking?”

Then, I suddenly perk back up and make my “customer service smile” even more sinister than usual.

Me: “What? Joking about what?! Haha, no jokes allowed here! We’d get in trouble, haha! Would you like your receipt?!” *Eyes widen*

Crazy usually scares the last of them off.

I am working as a bartender in a small bar in a small town. Not only do I fix drinks, but I am also responsible for selling tokens to an air hockey table. They come $1 a piece.

The other night this very drunk guy asked for a single token and threw me a hundred-dollar note.

Me: *Giving him a token* “Wait a moment while I open the register and get your chance.”

He left immediately. I got ninety-nine dollars as fast as I could and ran after him to return it. The dude was near the air hockey table.

I started to politely explain that I had his change and that he should take it. But I couldn’t finish because he interrupted me.

Guy: “Who the f*** are you? F*** off now.”

And so I just left. The guy never came back for his money.

My son and his wife go to a beach on the North Carolina coast for several days of vacation. This particular beach has lifeguards, and the guard chairs are tall and spaced along the beach. There are signs at all entrances to the beach telling people not to set up umbrellas or shade canopies in front of the guard stands. The reason is that the guards cannot adequately scan the ocean for people in trouble if their vision is blocked. There is actually a local ordinance stating this, and people can be fined.

[Son] and his wife get set up with a small beach shade thingy. It is like a half-tent that you set your chair in. It’s low to the ground, blocks the wind, and provides some shade.

Nearby, a family arrives and proceeds to set up one of those big shade canopies — think something used for craft shows or festivals. It is set up close to the ocean and between two guard stands. In fact, [Son] remarks that he can’t see the second stand because of the canopy and the chairs, etc.

Soon enough, one of the guards approaches the group.

Lifeguard: “You need to move your canopy back behind the guard stands. It’s too tall and blocks the line of sight for us to watch the ocean for people in trouble.”

They seem to agree, and the guard leaves.

When the guard leaves, the group stops looking like they are going to move. They actually get out food and drinks and sit in their chairs. [Son] remarks to his wife that the group is asking to be evicted from the beach.

About twenty or thirty minutes go by, and the guard comes back.

Lifeguard: “You need to move your canopy behind the guard stands for safety reasons.”

This time, a woman in the group decides to argue.

Woman: “We’re not moving! There are other people out here with shade canopies and stuff!”

She points out [Son] and his wife and then another group with a small beach umbrella.

Lifeguard: “Both of those groups meet the safety requirements.”

Woman: “Call the police if you have to, but my family and I aren’t moving!”

About fifteen minutes later, the police arrived on the scene. The woman and her entitled group got a ticket and were told that they needed to move their canopy or they would be told to leave.

The police left, and the woman and her family picked all their stuff up and moved back behind the guard stand — like they were told to the first time.

My mom didn’t believe I was sick when I was in the sixth grade. She said I was faking, made me go to school, and told me not to try to call her at work to come and pick me up. All day long, my teachers would take one look at my face, know that I was sick, and ask if I wanted to go home. I told them what my mom said: “I’m faking, so don’t even try to call her.”

I made it to my sixth period out of eight before my fever spiked, and I basically passed out. My teacher escorted me to the office, where the office staff tried to call my mom at work — she didn’t answer — and then let me sleep for the remaining two hours before school was out. The secretary escorted me to my locker to get my stuff, got me on the bus, and asked one of my classmates who rode the same bus to make sure I got home.

My mom came home, saw that I was practically unconscious again since my fever was at 103, and… got mad at the school for not calling her to let her know I was sick.

Every time she recounts that story, she always leaves out the part where she called me a faker and told me to go to school anyway. On the bright side, she never questioned me again when I said I was sick. Humiliation in knowing she sent her very sick child to school and refused to answer the phone was enough to humble her.