(I’m in a local pizza parlor. I have just stopped at the grocery store next door for some things, so rather than get delivery, I am just going to bring the pizza home. While waiting for it to be finished, another customer comes storming in.)

Customer: “Where’s my d*** pizzas?!”

(The girl at the register looks startled, but I half-hear the guys in the back say something like, “Not again.”)

Worker: “I’m sorry, what name was it ordered under?”

Customer: “The same name I always order it under, and you always take too d*** long!”

Worker: “I really am sorry that it took too long, but we’re very busy, and we’ve been telling everyone orders will be at least forty-five minutes to an hour.”

Customer: “Yeah, I know, and that’s too long! I’ve been waiting at least that much! Where’s my order for [several pizzas]?!”

(One of the guys making the pizzas pipes up.)

Cook: “Probably at your front door; the driver left with it about three minutes ago.”

Customer: “Bull! I know you lazy b*****ds are just standing around and—”

(Right on cue, his cell phone goes off. He answers angrily and stomps around the eating area while yelling back and forth. While he is doing so, the owner of the business comes out of the back.)

Customer: “I demand to be compensated for this!”

Owner: “No. Every two weeks you pull this nonsense, and every two weeks we tell you the same thing; you’re not getting free pizza because you think you’re special and we’ll magically make five pizzas in half the time it takes to make one! Especially in the middle of the football playoffs!”

Customer: “That’s what these are for; we’re trying to watch it at my house!”

Me: “These guys make some of the best pizza I’ve ever had; are you actually surprised that they get busy, especially at a time like this?! If you know it’s going to take an hour to get to you, then order an hour sooner! Stop making those of us that want to order look bad, and use your d*** head!”

(The customer didn’t get his free pizza, had to wait for the driver to get back, and took it home himself. I got a fist-bump from one of the cooks, and the owner handed me a bottle of soda; apparently being a regular that helps out is a better way to get stuff than being a jacka**!)

(It’s been a month since Christmas. I have cash and a couple of checks that were given to us, and I’ve not remembered to go to the bank to deposit them. After meticulously filling out the deposit slip, I walk up to the counter. Also, I’m pregnant.)

Teller: *who is the coolest lady I know* “Um… Sweetie? You want to deposit this cash, and then withdraw cash?”

Me: *blank face* “What? Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! I’m so sorry!”

Teller: “Don’t worry, sweetie; we’ll blame it on baby brain.” *laughs*

Me: *laughing also* “Oh, man, I have been so focused on getting this deposited, it didn’t even occur to me how ridiculous it was to come down here, deposit cash, and then withdraw cash!”

(A customer shows me a case for a small, single-board computer that’s roughly the size of a smartphone. The case is very obviously made entirely of aluminum, and is labeled as such on the package.)

Customer: “Do you have this case in clear?”

Me: “No.”

(I am running my department on the far side of our store. A lady with a sour expression on her face comes up to the counter. I recognize her as a regular difficult customer. I die a little inside but smile and immediately start walking toward her. She frowns and clears her throat loudly like she is trying to get my attention, even though I am already walking toward her. She is also drumming her fingers on the counter so loudly that you can hear the thump of each one.)

Me: “Hi! What brings you in today?”

Sour Lady: “Huh! Yes, I don’t know if you have the knowledge I require, but I bought 30 heavy duty binders a few weeks ago online from home, and they have not held up at all! They are terrible quality, even though they are your store brand!“

(She peers at me disapprovingly and waits, so I try to ask her how I can help her with her problem.)

Me: “Oh, that’s too bad—”

Sour Lady: *cuts me off* “My question is, can I return them and get my hard-earned money back?!”

Me: *trying to be helpful, and to get this resolved and her out of the store ASAP* “Absolutely! If it is a defective product of our brand, we can certainly return them for you, although if you ordered online at home, we usually have you call the corporate phone number so they can do the return for you. But we can always do the return in store, as well.”

Sour Lady: “Hmph! Fine. I would hope you would since it is your company’s product that is terrible!“

(She walks away and I forget about it. Two days later, I see the same lady, sour face in full force, walk toward me with a cart full of perfectly-good-looking binders and a handful of paperwork.)

Sour Lady: “You! I hope your information was correct before, because I have come to do my return!” *looks at me like I am a worm*

Me: “Of course. Did you bring your order paperwork?

(The sour lady throws a stack of papers on the counter and smirks. I look through her papers, and thankfully she has her invoice so I can process the return. I notice she bought the binders over SIX MONTHS AGO, but don’t say anything since we can still technically return them and I just want her out. I am thinking she used the binders for a project and then when it was done decided to return them. I have to enter what amount she is getting back manually since she ordered online from home. She paid $68.00.)

Me: “Okay, if you want to give me the card you paid with, I can put the $68 on it for you.”

Sour Lady: “WHAT?! No, you must not have learned math in school! See, I used a $30 coupon, so I should be getting $98 back! I have the coupon right here!”

(She glares at me and is just radiating bad attitude.)

Me: *still calm and smiling* “Yes, I see, but this coupon expired the day of your original purchase, over six months ago. And you only paid $68.00 for the binders, so we can only give you what you paid. We cannot just give you 30 dollars for free. Does that make sense?”

Sour Lady: “No! You are robbing me of $30! That is outrageous! You are clearly incompetent!”

Me: “No, ma’am, you paid $68, and are getting $68 back.”

Sour Lady: “Get me your manager, now!“

(I sigh and page for the manager. He comes up and I explain; all the while Sour Lady is glaring and smirking at the same time if that is possible.)

Manager: “My associate is correct, ma’am; we cannot give you $30 over what you paid.”

(The Sour Lady starts arguing and treating us like dirt for ten minutes. My manager has had enough and wants her out of the store, so he gives in and types the $98 into the register to go back on the card.)

Sour Lady: “I want cash! That way I have it, and you won’t cheat me!”

(My manager frowns but gives her cash.)

Sour Lady: *smirks nastily and says* “Well, you learn something new every day don’t you?”

(The manager, who isn’t very patient, sort of snaps.)

Manager: “Yes, ma’am, you do. I have learned today that you like to make a fuss to get free money and abuse our return system. I did it for you this once, but all of my employees will know from here on out that we will not bend rules for you, or do returns outside of the policy, or refund expired coupons. If this is not to your liking, you can go to another store and rip them off in future!”

(My mouth is hanging open at this point and I am sure I am smiling, too.)

Sour Lady: *starts screaming* “How rude! You are a bunch of idiots! I want your boss’s number! I will have you all fired! I am a loyal customer!“

(My manager gives her the corporate number immediately.)

Manager: “Please do call them, so they can tell you to give us $30 back. And if you were a loyal customer, you wouldn’t always be returning things and ripping people off!”

(The sour lady is speechless, and waddles out in a huff!)

Me: “That was amazing! What happened to you?”

Manager: “Sometimes retail just crushes your soul too much, and you need to stand up to jerks to inflate it back up!”

(That is still my favorite memory of that manager. Sour Face did call corporate, but our district manager said we were right and made a note about that nasty lady in case she tries to do that again!)

(We recently partnered with a local shelter to help get their animals adopted, by showcasing a few within our store. We generally don’t allow people to remove the animals from their cages for a day or so after they arrive, as they are usually stressed and we don’t want anyone to get hurt. As I’m putting our new shelter friends in their cages, one of the rabbits tries to bite, kick, and scratch me. I notify management, who tells me to just leave the rabbit in its cage and tell people not to touch it. To me, it would make sense to allow the poor creature to decompress off the sales floor for a few days, but I don’t make the rules. I print a sign that says, “I NEED SPACE. PLEASE KEEP YOUR FINGERS OUT OF MY CAGE. THANK YOU!” and hang it on the front of the cage. About an hour later, I’m helping a customer with an aquarium when I see a small boy with his father, looking at the rabbit. The father sticks his finger in the cage and pokes the rabbit’s backside. The rabbit jumps away from the father and the boy laughs.)

Me: “Uh, hey, guys. I’m sorry. That rabbit hasn’t quite adjusted to life in the store yet. We don’t want people trying to pet him.”

Father: “We’re not petting him.”

Me: “Then… what are you doing?”

Father: *matter-of-factly* “I’m touching him.”

Me: *inner sigh* “Please leave him alone. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Father: “You always tell people what to do?”

Me: “I do when they might get bitten.”

Father: “Mind your own business before I call corporate.”

(The son sticks his tongue out at me and they walk away. I return to the man I was originally talking to.)

Me: “I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want that boy to get bitten.”

Customer: “It’s okay. You’re just looking out for your customers.”

Me: “Thank you for understanding.”

Customer: *laughs* “Ten dollars says one of them gets bitten later.”

Me: “Oh, no. I wouldn’t take that bet.”

(The man decides on an aquarium, and I help him load it on a flatbed to be loaded in his truck. While I’m on the register, the father from earlier comes storming up to me.)

Father: “You’re in a world of trouble, missy!”

Me: “Uh… Ex-excuse me?”

Father: “Your f****** rabbit just bit my son!”

Me: *deep breath, apologetic customer service tone* “Would you like to file an incident report? I can call a manager and get a first aid kit for your son.”

Father: “You’re d*** right, I do! And I’ll be suing the store and you!”

Customer: “Good luck with that.”

Father: “What did you say?”

Customer: “I said good luck. You were told not to mess with the rabbit, by her and the sign on the cage.”

Father: “It’s her job to read, not mine!” *storms off*

Me: “I told you so.”

Customer: “Ah, I wish you’d taken that bet.”

(The father did file an incident report and called corporate, claiming I told him it was perfectly fine to hold the rabbit and that I’d left them unattended. Our store doesn’t have cameras, so I could have been in serious trouble. Luckily, the customer I worked with also called corporate and gave them a heads up, complete with a photo of the rabbit and the sign, just in case. The boy was fine, mostly just scared, and since the rabbit didn’t break the skin, he didn’t have any medical bills.)