(I am working in the fitting room of a well-known department store. There are no computers or cash in the fitting room, just a phone. I am overloaded with clothes that need sorting and putting away, as well as trying to help customers, answering the phone, and keeping the stalls clean. It’s a Saturday morning and it’s extraordinarily busy, more so than usual. We are also exceptionally understaffed. There are only two managers on duty, instead of the usual four or five. Two team members in my department just didn’t show up for their shift. Every other team member on the floor is on every available cash register, but each line is at least ten people deep. There is just one person at the lay-by counter, which is also the photo desk and the service desk. All the team members are on edge, and the customers are understandably frustrated, but it is glaringly obvious that we are understaffed and busy, and that we are doing the best we can. An irate man, probably about 40 years old, storms into the fitting room with a trolley. In his trolley, there is a backpack, a 3-pack of satin boxers, and four sports shirts in two different sizes. He throws two of the shirts at me and shoves his receipt into my face while yelling.)

Man: “I want you to exchange these shirts for me, RIGHT NOW! They do not fit me at all! I got an XL, but I need an XXL because for some reason they DON’T FIT! This is absolutely STUPID! They wouldn’t even fit a LITTLE PERSON!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that, but–”

(I cannot process exchanges in the fitting room as I have no computers. He needs to go to the lay-by counter. You need the computer to scan the receipt to return the items, and issue a new receipt for the exchanged items, since different sizes in the same style have different barcodes. Yes, it’s a bit frustrating, but that’s just how it works. I try to explain this to him, and I try to explain the fact that he needs to go to the lay-by counter, but he doesn’t accept it. He is getting more aggressive and keeps interrupting me.)

Man: “I am on my DAY OFF from work! I am NOT spending my Saturday morning WAITING IN LINE! I have just come from the lay-by counter and there is only ONE person down there with more than twelve people in line! I am NOT waiting! Process this for me right now! I make $40 an hour! Where is a manager?!”

(Yes, he actually mentioned his wage. I was shocked. I read about it all the time on this very site, but I never thought people actually said things like that. The managers are on the cash registers, too, so even if I did call them for help, they wouldn’t have been able to do anything. As the man is ranting, I harshly fold his receipt in half, thrust it in his direction, and put the XL shirts aside. They are the same as the new shirts, just a different size, and even though the new shirts wouldn’t match his old receipt, I decide to take a risk just to get him out of the store.)

Me: “Yes, I know it is very, very busy. It’s a Saturday, the busiest day of the week, and as you can see, we are a bit short-staffed today. I’m sorry about the wait and I’m sorry about your shirts not fitting you properly, but just take your new shirts and your old receipt and go, please.”

(He huffs and grumbles and storms away. I did not raise my voice once and I somehow managed a smile the whole time, but on the inside, I was shaken up. I grew up with my parents yelling at each other and at me and my siblings, so whenever somebody raises their voice or yells, even if it’s not at me, I instantly get stressed and upset and want to cry. It’s embarrassing, but it’s just how I react. What’s more, is that I had never dealt with a customer that extreme before in my four years at that store. After he leaves, I’m trying so hard to keep it together and it seems to be working until a young mother with her baby speaks up from outside one of the fitting room stalls.)

Lady: “Are you okay?!”

Me: “Oh… I… Yeah…”

Lady: “Oh, honey, it’s not your fault, okay? You did nothing wrong! He’s just a grumpy old man, okay? As soon as I heard the yelling, I immediately came out of my fitting room and waited, just in case you needed any help. I was going to have a go at him if he didn’t stop!”

(The absolute kindness of this stranger set off the waterworks. I managed to get it under control before it was too obvious, but I was floored by her words. Thank you, ma’am, wherever you are, I really appreciate what you did for me. The worst part about the whole thing, though? I later found out amidst the chaos, he managed to slip through the cracks and steal that backpack and those boxers, worth $24 altogether, because he didn’t want to wait in line at the register. What is wrong with these people that think they are so superior to everybody else?)

(I am working at the registers with a line of people. A man on his phone comes to the registers and puts his books on the counter without acknowledging me or pausing in his conversation. He puts a finger to his lips when I greet him. I stifle the urge to sigh, and ring up his items.)

Me: “Your total is [total], sir.”

(He turns his back on me and continues talking.)

Me: *louder* “Your total is [total], sir.”

(He sticks a finger in his other ear and walks to the farthest point of the registers with his back to me. I turn to the lady who is next in line with huge eyes, look down at the pile of books in front of me, then gather them all up and set them on a shelf behind me. I suspend the transaction and call the lady forward.)

Lady: “Don’t worry, hun. He’s a rude jerk.”

Me: “Thanks, ma’am. Sorry for the wait.”

Lady: “Don’t apologize, dear. You aren’t responsible for his bad manners.”

(I get through three customers before he comes back and cuts in front of the rest of the line. He stares while I retrieve his books and redo the transaction, and then he wordlessly pays and walks off. I get through my line and a manager approaches.)

Manager: “A man just complained that you ignored him and helped three people before helping him.”

(I explain the situation, and the manager merely frowns.)

Manager: “Well, you know, some customers don’t appreciate you stopping their transaction.”

Me: “And the twelve customers behind him would not have appreciated being forced to wait for him to come back. Do you want one complaint, or twelve?”

(The manager just sighed and walked away.)

(I’m the customer in this one. Our local bus station has multiple routes that leave from the same stand. They often go in similar directions at first, but their ultimate destinations can be very different. The route number and destination are always clearly labelled on the front and side of the bus.)

Customer: “Excuse me, is this the 13 or the 14 bus?”

Driver: “Umm, it should say on the side; it’s the 14.”

Customer: “So, is it going to [Destination of the 13] or [Destination of the 14]?”

Driver: “…It’s going to [Destination of the 14].”

Customer: “Oh…”

(The customer gets off the bus. I’m next to get on.)

Me: *pretty loudly* “Remember when people were able to read?”

Driver: “Heh, yep.”

Next Customer: “Excuse me, is this the 13 or the 14 bus?”

(I am going to a new doctor’s office.)

Me: “Hello, my name is Amber [Last Name], and I’m here to see [Doctor].”

Secretary:  “Okay, April, we have some forms for you to fill out.”

Me: “Sure, but my name is Amber.”

Secretary: “Sorry about that.”

(After I finish filling out the papers, I walk back to hand the secretary my forms.)

Secretary:  “Okay, April, I will tell the doctor you are here.”

Me: “Okay, and my name is Amber.”

Secretary: “I am sorry about that, Amber.”

(After I have seen the doctor, I go past the secretary’s desk.)

Secretary: “Have a good day, April.”

Me: *annoyed sigh*

(I’m a tour guide at a historic house during the day, haunted house at night during Halloween season. I’ve just finished my first tour of the night and am sitting in the guide station when a group comes in.)

Guest: “So, we thought our tour was at 8:30, but it was actually 8:05. What can we do?”

Dispatch: “We’re all booked for tonight, so you can either get caught up to your tour, or you can reschedule for another night.”

Guest: “We’ll get caught up.”

Dispatch: “[My Name], could you catch them up? They’re on [Coworker]’s tour.”

Me: “Of course! Right this way, please.”

(I lead them down a hallway. We have next to no lighting in here, and I’m trying to move quickly and quietly, as there are tours in every room around us. Suddenly, I hear a scream, followed by the rest of the guests I’m escorting screaming. It happens twice more before I realize what’s happening: one of the guests, a man in probably his mid-20s, is screaming randomly to frighten his friends. It’s incredibly disruptive and distracting.)

Me: “Sir, please do not scream like that.”

Guest: “I thought this was supposed to be scary!”

Me: “It’s our job to scare you. Please don’t do that for us.”

(He doesn’t do it again… for a few minutes. Right as we’re heading up the stairs to meet my coworker, he screams again, setting off his friends again.)

Me: “Sir, I need you to stop doing that.”

(I informed my coworker about the new guests I’d brought him and headed back down to the guide station, where I immediately informed the dispatchers about the man’s behavior. When I asked my coworker about it later, my coworker told me that the group was awful, but that there was another employee trailing after the tour, and that helped. According to dispatch, they also later tried to get a refund because they’d missed so much of the tour, even though they still went on it and it was their own fault. They did not get a refund.)

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