(I work at a very small hobby shop with my husband. We may be small, but we have wholesale accounts with many big-name companies that supply games, mini figures, and other supplies to do with tabletop gaming so we can order anything a customer needs for no extra cost, and we inform customers of this all the time. This happens on one of our late game nights where people can come in and just play.)

New Customer: *chatting with a regular about paints or mini figures for D&D* “Oh, so you use these kinds of paints?”

Regular: “Oh, yeah, these are great for figures, and so are the Warhammer paint sets.”

New Customer: “Where can I get these?”

Regular: “You’d have to ask her.“ *points to me* “She is the order master here.”

(I smile and look up.)

New Customer: “Where do you get these paints?” *holds up one of our colors for sale*

Me: “We order them. We can get many different colors.”

New Customer: “Yeah, but where do you guys get them? What store can I buy them from?

Me: *with a tight smile* “We’re a store. We sell them.”

New Customer: “Yeah, but do you guys order these from a craft store around here or online someplace?”

Me: *trying to keep smiling* “Yes, we have a wholesale account that we place orders through. We get figurines and those paints from them.”

New Customer: “Oh, okay.” *puts the paint back and goes to join his friends*

(We are a store? You can buy these from us? Whatever! Our regular buys tons of our paints!)

(This customer has bought £55 worth of items. She has a voucher for 10% off which is applied to the entire purchase. She pays and leaves, but comes back not ten minutes later.)

Customer: “Excuse me. You didn’t take 10% off.”

Me: *checks receipt and points* “No, here it is. You only paid £49.50.”

Customer: “How is that 10%?!”

Me: “It… just is.”

Customer: “No, can I get someone else to fix this? Preferably a man who can actually do maths?”

Me: “I don’t know if there are any men in store at the moment, but regardless, I didn’t actually take 10% off myself. The register did when I scanned your voucher.”

(The woman refuses to listen and goes to reception, where the receptionist and manager — both women — try to convince her that the discount is correct. She again refuses to listen. The manager tells her the next man will be coming in around an hour, and the woman literally waits for him at reception.)

Male Colleague: “I have been told you have an issue with your purchase?”

Customer: “Yes, my voucher wasn’t counted — 10% off.”

Male Colleague: *looks at voucher* “No, it has. The original price was £55, and you paid £49.50. That’s 10% off.”

Customer: “That’s good to know. But really, I can’t stand here all day waiting for you! You need a man in store at all times. I’m much too busy! None of your women had the maths to help!” *storms out*

Male Colleague: “Did she actually wait an hour just for me to tell her what her receipt said?”

Me: “Yup!”

Male Colleague: “And you didn’t bother to tell her you had a maths A-level?”

Me: “I figured after she asked for a ‘man’ that she wouldn’t have listened to me, regardless. I probably could’ve invented calculus and she would still be in doubt as to whether 10% of 55 is 5.5.”

Male Colleague: *laughing* “Well, I didn’t even pass maths!”

(I work in a store that sells over 75 high-end balsamic vinegars and olive oils. Most of them are infused and are good for mixing and matching. I have this exchange multiple times a day.)

Customer: “What’s good on a salad?”

(I work at a restaurant as a waitress. One of my coworkers is working outside on the terrace and warns me that there is a difficult table having trouble with their payment and that they’re coming inside to settle their bill. The same people already came to me earlier to insult my coworkers for being cranky and unprofessional and not smiling enough, whilst they were working their butts off due to us being understaffed. The man comes up to the bar to talk to me.)

Me: “Hi! I understand you’d like to get your bill?”

Customer: “Something like that.”

Me: “Okay, that’ll be €20,40, please.”

Customer: “I have €19.”

Me: “Umm, all right. I’ll just need €1,40 more, then.”

Customer: “I don’t have that.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “This is all I have. I don’t have more money.”

Me: “Okay… Do you have a debit card?”

Customer: “Yes. At home.”

Me: “Okay, would you like to run out to get it and settle the rest of the bill later?”

Customer: *angrily* “What? You’re telling me I need to go all the way to [Place five kilometers away] to get my debit card to pay you a Euro-something?”

Me: “Well, yes. I’m sorry, but I do.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! You’re honestly expecting me to come back to pay you people a Euro? I come here all the time! You’re giving me terrible customer service!”

(I’m starting to lose my cool. I’m usually very smiley and happy toward customers, but as he insulted my coworkers before, and makes it come across as if it’s OUR problem that he’s forgotten his card, I’m annoyed. Also, I’ve never seen the guy before.)

Me: “Yes. If you order something, you have to pay for it.”

Customer: “It’s only a Euro!”

Me: “That you owe us.”

Customer: *giving me a look of pure fury* “You know what? Fine. I’ll get you your Euro. But you’ve now lost a customer.”

(My manager came out and told the guy it was fine. I’m curious to see if he’ll ever be around again. The kicker is, if he would’ve been polite about it, I would have told him not to worry about the remaining €1,40 and taken it out of the tip jar. But how people can be so entitled, I’ll never know.)

(I work at a fast food place in a shopping centre. We also sell biscuits and cookies over the counter. This customer is an old man, so I try to be as clear and patient as possible.)

Me: “Hello, sir, what would you like?”

Customer: “I want two of these biscuits.”

Me: “Of course, sir. Would you like them in a bag to carry?”

Customer: “Yes, please.”

(I package the cookies in a carry bag and place it on the counter in front of him as I do with every customer. I then begin typing in the transaction on the machine.)

Customer: “You should have given that to me more gracefully!”

Me: “Um… What?”

(He glares at me, and I don’t know how to respond. Eventually, I mumble a confused apology.)

Me: “That will be $7.”

(He then opens his wallet and spends a minute finding the right amount of money. Finally, he takes out a $10 note and hands it to me, but he pulls it away a few times as if he’s not sure it’s the right amount to give me. The result is me trying to take the money as he awkwardly moves his hand back and forth. I don’t say anything and just give him the change.)

Customer: “Sorry about that.”