(I work in a bistro-style restaurant, and while carving meat for another customer, my coworker is taking care of an old bloke. I bear witness to this weird conversation they have.)

Customer: “I’ll have the salmon cakes with hollandaise. Thanks, mate.”

Coworker: “Oh, okay. I’ll just go see how long it’ll be; they’re just making more sauce for them.”

Customer: “Mate, there’s no need to be on your high horse about it.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry. Pardon me?”

Customer: *who’s apparently here all the time* “You heard me! You gave me s*** about it last time when I had the bloody lamb shank!”

Coworker: *looks at me* “Um, I was just going to ask how long it would be and if you were willing to wait or wanted something else.”

Customer: “Nah, I’m not taking your attitude, mate.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, but I’m never usually on the bistro. I’m just filling. I don’t know about the lamb shank.”

Customer: *gets red in the face at that point, but I have to keep serving*

(By the time the conversation was over, I’d already finished serving my customer and the salmon cakes had come out, with the sauce, and the old bloke stormed up to pay, with his meal. My coworker and I both had a laugh over it, wondering what was up with that guy, and just generally being confused about the situation, because none of us really recognised the guy, even though he’s a “regular.” Fast forward twenty minutes later: the old bloke approached my coworker and apologised for how he’d acted. So, yay, happy ending!)

(My head chef and kitchen manager is helping serve customers in line at the bistro, as it is very busy and we weren’t expecting it to be.)

Chef: “Here we are. Sorry about the wait, madam; we’ve had quite a night.”

Customer: “DO I LOOK LIKE A MADAM TO YOU? DO YOU THINK I RUN A BROTHEL?!”

(Safe to say, that topped off the night.)

(I work in a UK clothing store that sells fairly expensive but good-quality clothing, and I recently encountered one of the weirdest days. A shopper, in her thirties I’d say, with a walking stick, comes up to me at the service desk.)

Shopper: “I’m really sorry to bother you but I need some help. There’s a lady in the store who has been following me around and telling me to leave now. I’ve not done anything wrong, I hope.”

Me: “Is she a member of staff?”

Shopper: “No, she’s not wearing your uniforms or name tags, and she’s got a coat on and seems to be shopping. She just keeps following me, and it’s kind of scaring me now.”

(I see a lady coming straight for the desk, pointing at the woman I’m talking to.)

Rude Lady: “You! You! I told you to leave!”

Shopper: “That’s her. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”

Rude Lady: “You!” *pointing at me now* “Get this out of the store!”

Me: “Okay, what is the problem? Has something happened?”

Rude Lady: “Are you blind?! Have you seen her? It’s revolting!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t see the problem. She looks perfectly fine to me.”

Rude Lady: “You are stupid. This is an expensive shop, yes? For beautiful people. Fat cripples don’t belong in here.”

(The first shopper looks like she’s going to cry. I honestly think she looks better than this rude woman. She does weigh more than this rude woman, but that’s no indicator of beauty or lack of.)

Me: “We welcome all shoppers, providing they have good manners and behave well in the store. I’m not throwing people out just because you don’t like the look of them.”

Rude Lady: “Right, well, your manager will be hearing of this. I’m sure once I say you’ve let disgusting, fat tramps in the store and lost all my business in the process, you’ll be looking for another job.” *turns to the original shopper* “And you! I’d better never see you again in any of my stores. You chose to be fat, so you chose to look revolting.”

(The rude lady stormed out, and I spent the next ten minutes reassuring the poor shopper that not only would she not be thrown out of the store, but that the rude lady was now banned from here and we’d have the video footage to back up why.)

(I am the manager on duty and working by myself in a video rental store when a customer comes in in the early morning. Immediately I notice the blanketed bundle she is cradling like a baby.)

Customer: *distraught* “I rented a couple of movies and one of them was so disturbing, I couldn’t watch it! I wrapped both up and put them in your dropbox.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, what can I do for you?”

(I can hear the rising panic in her voice and it’s freaking me out a little.)

Customer: “I’m just so disturbed; it was awful! Could I get a refund?”

Me: “Let me look into your account and see what I can do.”

(I see that her bundle is, in fact, a plastic statue of the Virgin Mary. I bring up her account and figure out the disturbing movie was the remake of “The Amityville Horror.” It spooked me, too, but nowhere near as badly as the customer. I think it will be best to do as she asks, since she is so agitated and in turn making me nervous.)

Me: “Okay, if you like I can give you a refund, or I can put credit on your account for a free rental later.”

Customer: “I’ll take the credit. But please warn people about that movie!”

Me: “I know, it was a very scary movie.” *makes the adjustment to her account* “You’re all set. I even credited both movies for your trouble.”

Customer: *looking a little relieved but still clutching her Mary statue tightly* “Thank you, and God bless!”

(It was certainly one of the odder encounters I’ve had!)

(I’m a manager at an auto parts store. This is a rather common discussion.)

Me: “Hi! How can I help you?”

Customer: “I need parts for my truck.”

Me: “Okay, what year and model is your truck?”

Customer: “Black.”

Me: “Sir, I need information about your truck like the year, make, and model before I can help.”

Customer: “Well, how should I know?”

Me: “Is your truck outside?”

Customer: “No, I need parts for it!”