(A group of three Russian 20-somethings comes in; they’re unaware that I also speak Russian. Note: state law in Massachusetts says I have to card everyone in a group in order to sell them alcohol.)

Me: “May I see your IDs?”

(Two give me their IDs, but one doesn’t have it on him.)

Customer: “He’s not drinking.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I need his ID anyway. State law: I have to card the whole group.”

Customer: “But he’s not drinking.”

Me: “If you don’t all have IDs, I can’t sell this to you. Sorry, guys.”

(The man without his ID goes to their car to get it. He returns, I check it, and proceed to run the credit card through, but the customer is clearly upset by this minor inconvenience. I print out the receipt and the customer signs the store copy.)

Customer: *in Russian* “Here you go, b****.”

Me: *also in Russian* “Thank you! Bye bye, now!”

(I have never seen anyone leave the store that quickly before in my life!)

(To start off, I’m male, as is my customer.)

Me: “Alright, one medium latte, less hot. Anything else for you today, sir?”

Customer: Don’t make it too hot! If you make it too hot, I’ll spank you, and you’re going to like it!

Me: “…”

Customer: “I’m so hungry, I going to go home and stick something in my mouth, and I don’t care what it is!”

Me: “…”

This story is part of the Customers-Who-Make-You-Say-WTF roundup!

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(I work at an amusement park. They are very strict about the money, and I am the head cashier. It’s about 100 degrees out, and there’s a long line of about 100 people waiting to place an order. A customer rudely cuts everyone in line, and starts talking to me.)

Rude Customer: “Hey, bud, can you give me four quarters for a dollar?”

Customer #2: “Hey, I was in line!”

Rude Customer: “Relax, I’ll only be a second.”

(The customer ignores the rest of the customers complaints.)

Me: “No, sir. I’m sorry; we’re not allowed to open the register.”

Rude Customer: “Aw, come on, man! I just need four quarters.”

Me: “Well, if you want change, you can go to the customer service desk at the front of the park.”

Rude Customer: “Are you f****** serious!? It’s 100 f****** degrees outside; I am not going to the other side of the d*** park, you a**-wipe!”

Customer #2: “Dude, no need to be a jack-a**. Plus, you cut in line, anyway.”

Rude Customer: “Mind your own business, you old lady. Dude, seriously, give me my f****** change for a dollar!”

(My manager overhears.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem here?”

Rude Customer: “I need change for this f****** dollar, and your stupid-a** cashier won’t do it.”

Manager: “I’m sorry, sir. We’re not allowed to make change for a dollar. You need to go to the front of the park and go to customer service. They’ll do i—”

Rude Customer: “I was already f****** told that! And I already said, I am not walking all the f****** way over there!”

Customer #3: “Dude, shut the f*** up already! We’re waiting in line for food, and clearly you’re not getting your change!”

Rude Customer: “Mind your own d*** business! I need it ’cause my girlfriend is on her f****** period!”

Customer #4: “Here’s a stupid quarter, you a**-wipe!”

([Customer #4] proceeds to throw quarters at [Rude Customer], who proceeds to pick up the quarters. My manager bends over the counter and looks down at the man.)

Manager: “You have 10 minutes to get your girlfriend her tampon, and out of my park, before I call security!”

(The customers in line started clapping as he ran away, with no girlfriend in sight!)

(I am at the airport heading home for Thanksgiving. As I put my laptop back in my bag after security, a present for my dog — who stays with my parents while I’m at college — falls out.)

Other Traveler: “Dear, you dropped your handcuffs. Wait. Are handcuffs allowed? Sir!” *signals a TSA agent* “She has handcuffs!”

(The TSA agent walks over and speaks to me, somewhat confused.)

TSA Agent: “Something about handcuffs?”

Me: *holds up the toy: three connected, tightly woven rings*

TSA Agent: “I see.” *to the other traveler* “Miss, those are not handcuffs, and please don’t call us like that; it could cause a panic.”

Woman: “Oh, so handcuffs are allowed?”

Me: “It’s for my dog. It’s a toy.”

Woman: “Oh, such a kinky thing to call your boyfriend! You naughty thing!”

(The agent and I share looks, but I decide to let her have her idea. Next, I take out the scarf I bought my dog to tie around the rings.)

Woman: “…And a gag too? Lord, girl, what will your parents think?!”

TSA Agent: “That she’s giving me a better busy Thanksgiving day at work than I thought!”

This story is part of our Thanksgiving roundup!

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(I’m on the Metro (subway) during rush hour. Arriving at a station, I see a little girl with a bandaged leg and a crutch getting in the car with her mother. Since there are no seats available, she stays up. A few seconds later, a young man dressed like a thug on a seat behind them calls to the mother.)

Young Man: “Ma’am, take my seat for your child.”

Mother: “Oh, thank you.”

(As soon as the young man gets up, however, a middle-aged lady in a business suit jumps into his seat without saying a word.)

Young Man: “Ma’am, I gave my seat to the little girl, not to you.”

Middle-aged Lady: “You should’ve said so.”

Young Man: “You were right in front of me and clearly heard me. Besides, it’s obvious this girl needs a seat more than you.”

Middle-aged Lady: *angrily* “What’s your point?!”

Young Man: “My point is that you’re rude and impolite.”

Middle-aged Lady: “Who the f*** do you think you are to talk to me like that?! Do you know WHO I am?!”

Young Man: “I think I am someone much more polite and well-educated than you. And to who you are, I frankly don’t care.”

Middle-aged Lady: “YOU LITTLE F***! My husband owns [some big company]! I’m infinitely much richer and more powerful than you!”

Young Man: *grinning* “So, powerful and rich you take the metro to go home?”

(Stunned, the middle-aged lady looks like she’s been struck by lightning. She sheepishly leaves the car at the next station. The young man then turns to the girl and her mother, who are literally speechless.)

Young Man: *to the mother* “Sorry for that. There’s your seat!”

(The whole car cheered and applauded him. Whoever you are, Metro gentleman, you have my thumbs up!)