(I am working in the box office, doing phone sales. I help a dithering customer by choosing the best available seats for their choice of show.)

Me: “So, your seats are dead centre.”

Customer: “Is that roughly in the middle?”

(I run a small pack-and-ship on an island in south Florida. Unbeknownst to me, an owner two years before me kept a copy machine near the entrance. I have three copy machines located behind my desk.)

Customer: *enters store and looks around wildly, and as I’m serving another customer* “Where the h*** is your copy machine?!”

Me: “I have three back here behind me.” *points out copiers*

Customer: “That doesn’t help me!”

Me: “If you’ll give me your papers I’ll gladly make the copies for you.”

Customer: *as I’m making his copies* “What happened to the copy machine you had by the front?”

Me: “I’ve only ever had my three machines back here. I suppose it’s possible the owner before me had one out there.”

Customer: “Well, how does that help me at all?”

(Thirty seconds of silence.)

Customer: “I still can’t believe you don’t have a copy machine in here.”

Me: *out of patience at this point* “What are you talking about? I told you twice now I have three of them back here, and I’m literally copying your document right now.”

(I bring him his two forms.)

Me: “That’s 50 cents.”

Customer: “You know, there’s a print shop on [Local Road] that makes copies for five cents a piece.”

Me: “All right…” *shrugs* “Well, we’re a shipping store and we charge 25 cents a page.”

Customer: *pays me 50 cents* “I’m never coming here again.”

Me: “Don’t get my hopes up.”

(This man has been back three times since to overnight something and curses me out every time I give him the price. He doesn’t take kindly to my advice of shipping his packages earlier. I’m just glad I own and run an independent shop so I don’t have to bend over for that sort of customer.)

I work at a restaurant where we have three margarita machines. We have thirteen-ounce glasses as well as three-ounce sample cups that we sometimes fill with an ounce or so to let people try the margaritas. This customer comes up and asks for a sample of both the regular and the strawberry.

A month or more before this, she asked for the same thing and asked me to fill the sample cups all the way to the top for each one. I have forgotten about this customer since then, so this day, I do the same thing I always do — and to every single other customer ever — and I give her a standard one- to one-and-a-half-ounce sample of each one.

What does she do? As I place them down in front of her, she brushes them off to the side of the counter with a sweep of her arm and walks off. Ten minutes later, I get in trouble with my manager for being “rude” to this customer.

Cut to a year later, and even though the manager who talked to her — and apparently was friends with her — works at another restaurant, I still have to give this lady three-ounce samples when she comes in. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue, but it does irk me that she not only gets these two samples, but she asks her server for two more samples after that, sometimes more! Doing the math, that is four samples consisting of three ounces each, making it twelve ounces, which is basically a free margarita. The purpose of the samples is so you can decide if you want to BUY one, yet she buys maybe ONE a month, and this woman comes in three times a week or more! She is also, reportedly, a horrible tipper. On top of that, she gets people in trouble and makes racist comments.

Customer: “Are you going to give me my samples today?”

Me: “Yes, no problem.” *makes them* “Here you go.”

Customer: “Are you going to be nice to me today?”

(I can’t think of anything nice to say, so I just smile at the woman.)

Customer: *huffs* “That’s what I thought.”

(She walks away and I then rip her head off in my mind.)

(I’m working at the reference desk at the library when the phone rings.)

Woman: “Can you look up [Town thirty miles away] and tell me what it says?”

Me: “Okay… and what information are you looking for ‘it’ to tell you?”

Woman: “Just, like, where it is and what [Town] people are like. What does Google say?”

Me: “You want to know what the people are like? I’m not sure that’s the kind of thing Google can tell me.”

Woman: “Well, there’s a Camaro for sale there, and I just want to know if the people in [Town] are trustworthy, or if it’s a backwater with trashy people.”

Me: “I’m not sure that’s the kind of thing Google can tell me.”

Woman: “So, you’re not going to help me?”

Me: “I can tell you the population of [Town] and where’s it’s located… but that’s about all I can help you with regarding the backwateriness of that town.”

(I ended up telling her the populations of several towns around the state at her request, apparently at random, before she was satisfied enough to hang up on me.)

(I am currently manning the self-check when a customer comes up with two fifty-gallon storage totes FILLED to the brim with assorted meats, produce, and the like. This raises a flag, so I instantly use the “head register” to try to flag down a manager while keeping an eye on her screen as best as I can. In addition, I approach her, trying to our “passive-aggressive” tactics to try to stall them as long as I can.)

Me: “Excuse me. Would you like some help with these tubs?”

Customer: “Oh, it’s okay. I got it under control; I use these all the time since your manned registers are so long.”

(Normally I would agree with the customer, as it seems like when we have half the store filled with customers we only have a few cashiers. However, in this case, it is the opposite; we have WAY too many cashiers when there are maybe a few customers an hour going through the registers. This, of course, raises another flag, so I go back to the head register and ping the manager again.)

Monitor Station: “Kool-Aid, Kool-Aid, Kool-Aid, Ramen, Ramen, Ramen…”

(I’m sure you get the picture and, even while assisting other customers that trickle my way, I see her doing SCO trickery.)

Customer: *as I’m walking past her* “These pickle-pops are just wonderful, aren’t they?”

Me: *trying to feign obliviousness* “Yeah, they are wonderful, but I just use the leftover juices in my ice cube trays.”

(Once again, I head back trying to get a manager again… still no luck. Suddenly, the customer comes up to me.)

Customer: “Uh… I, umm… forgot my wallet in the car. Can you hold my items for me, please?”

(I glance at her screen and see what I expected to see: she wants to void the whole transaction. At this point, I know I cannot keep her in the store, but at least the store gets a minor victory and she leaves without being able to complete the scam.)

Me: “Sure…” *thinking: please, manager, hurry up and get here… NOW*

(As she was trying to leave, I really started to pound the h*** out of the code to get the manager over there, doing my best to “forget” how to run it. However, she did start to leave, and maybe a minute after she did so, the manager came over and I explained what had happened. I later learned that while she did get away, the LP team got her face on the video and she was turned into the police and HQ. The total potential loss: almost half a grand! At least I got recognized for the situation and got a store gift card for roughly 10% of the would-be scammed items.)