(Our restaurant is on the roadside towards Amsterdam Airport, so we get many different customers, from everywhere around the world. One day, I am on hall duty. While walking around and cleaning up, a customer tries to get my attention.)

Me: “Yes, sir?”

(The customer mutters something in a foreign language I do not recognise, let alone understand.)

Me: *switching to English* “Sorry, sir, I don’t understand.”

(The customer just repeated the foreign word, while making gestures towards his plate of food. I reckoned he wanted napkins, so I brought him some, but the guy seemed really irritated when I brought them. He repeated the word again. Since I totally did not understand what he was saying, I came up with several items, like cutlery and even another, empty plate. Every time I showed up with something, the man rolled his eyes as if I was stupid and repeated his request, getting more and more annoyed in the process. Finally, I understood that he wanted to take his leftovers away and I got him a bag for that. The customer mumbled something that sounded like a “thank you” in his language, despite not looking happy. Now, I can understand that he didn’t speak Dutch. It’s also not a crime not to speak English. I even didn’t mind him trying to communicate like this, but why was he acting like I was stupid for not speaking his language, while he obviously didn’t learn any foreign tongue at all?)

(I am the customer in this story.)

Self-Checkout Machine: “Will you be using our bags or your bags?”

(I have two bulky items that will not fit in bags, so I choose the “your bags” option.)

Self-Checkout Machine: “Please place your bags in the bagging area.”

(I do nothing, not having bags.)

Self-Checkout Machine: “Please place your bags in the bagging area.”

(I proceed to start ringing up the bulky items, but after the first one is set down in the bagging area, the computer has an “unhandled exception” and crashes.)

Me: *to attendant* “Excuse me? Ma’am? This checkout station just had a system crash.”

(The attendant takes my items over to another station and rings them up herself.)

Me: *feeling pockets* “Um… I just realized my wallet is still out in the car. Can I just leave these here and come right back?”

Attendant: “No, I’ll take them for you, and you can get them back when you have your wallet.”

(I run out to the car and back and goes through self-checkout process again.)

Attendant: “How about if I just scan everything in from my system right here, and you can be on your way?”

Me: “That would be great.”

Attendant: “Okay, then I just need your payment method.”

(I swipe my credit card.)

Self-Checkout Machine: “Please insert your credit card into the chip reader.”

(I swipe my credit card again.)

Self-Checkout Machine: “Please insert your credit card into the chip reader.”

Attendant: “You’ll have to put your card in; it won’t take it if you swipe.”

(I look carefully and find the chip reader, though to my credit, it was hard to spot at first because of a large advertisement in the way.)

Attendant: “Thank you. Have a great day.”

Me: “I’m really sorry for all that. It’s just not my day today, is it?”

(The attendant half-smiled. She had probably dealt with many such cases by that point in the day, and I hope I was at least easier to deal with in my ineptitude than most. Moral of the story: anyone can be an idiot at any given time. Don’t make things worse for employees by having a bad attitude!)

(I have five minutes left in my shift when a customer approaches me looking for some pens we have on sale. Luckily, I can scan to get directions right to them, so I figure I can show the customer and then finish cleaning up my stock after without risking going over my hours. Unfortunately, when we get there I see we’re sold out.)

Me: “I’m so sorry, but we must have sold the last ones today, and the system hasn’t caught up yet. We’ll get more in this week; do you need them now?”

Customer: “No, I just wanted to grab some fine-line pens for writing.”

Me: “Oh! Well, the sale ones were for drawing, so we actually have writing pens for that same price all the time. You can even test them there.”

(I show the customer the pens in the next aisle. I even walk him through each one, and answer some questions. I’m hitting the end of my shift, so I try to wrap it up.)

Me: “…and there’s pens up at the front that are roughly the same quality, but 50 cents cheaper. I need to head up there so I can show you.”

Customer: “Okay, it’s going to sound like I’m picking on you, but since you’ve been so helpful, I’m going to offer you some advice.”

Me: “Okay.”

Customer: “You know the verb ‘to be’ is dead; people don’t use it anymore. You said, ‘There’s,’ as a contraction, but since it’s a multiple, you should have said, ‘There are.’”

Me: “Oh. Okay?”

Customer: “You wouldn’t say, ‘There’s cars over there,’ right? It’s the same thing.”

(I realize he’s going to keep going, so I decide to just smile and nod.)

Customer: “You’ll notice it’s what they say on the news. It’s the more professional way to speak. My daughter says, ‘There are,’ and she works at the White House. It makes people judge you if they hear that. It’s like the n-word to educated people.”

(At that point my customer service smile becomes strained past believability, but I manage to keep quiet because I just want to go home. By the time he’s done, it’s five minutes after my shift should be over.)

Me: “Okay, thanks. I’ll remember that. Now, let me just show you those pens.”

(While we were walking he made a joke about being the worst customer. I didn’t laugh.)

(I work part-time in the children’s area of an “upscale” gym. The problem with children’s areas in gyms is that some people treat them like daycare, leaving their kids for HOURS when you know they aren’t working out that whole time. One boy is there almost every day, and is always a problem no matter how we approach him. He steals toys from other kids, tries to intentionally break things, ignores my coworkers and me, etc. It also doesn’t help that he is twice the size of other kids his age, and he knows it. I am told his mom has been notified, but nothing has changed. One day, he goes way too far and physically harms a smaller child. I sit him in “time out” to wait until his mother picks him up.)

Me: *to the mom when she walks in with one of her friends* “Ma’am, I’m afraid we need to talk to you about [Child].”

Mom: *ignores me, keeps talking to her friend, and holds out her member card to check her son out* “I’m telling you, [Doctor] is amazing! You can’t even tell they aren’t real!”

(She is clearly talking about her newly augmented breasts, which most definitely do not look real. She’s wearing designer workout clothes, has worn a bunch of diamond jewelry to a GYM, and doesn’t even look like she’s broken a sweat despite being there for three hours.)

Me: *fed up* “Ma’am? Ma’am!”

Mom: “What? I’m here for [Child].”

(I don’t want to discuss this in front of her friend, but have a feeling I don’t have a choice.)

Me: “Yes, I know, but we need to discuss what your son did to another child today. He physically harmed him.”

Mom: “Oh, I’m sure they were just playing and it was an accident.”

Me: “Ma’am, he punched and kicked another child who is half his size. I don’t think the other boy’s parents will consider that an accident.”

Mom: *has already stopped listening to me and is talking to her friend again* “I can get you a referral if you want, they have—”

Me: “MA’AM! What are you going to do about your son?”

Mom: “Excuse me?”

Me: “If you can’t address his behavioral problems, he will no longer be allowed in the children’s area.”

Mom: *now she’s heard me* “Who do you think you are?!”

Me: “I’m trying to tell you that you need to address this serious issue with your son.”

Mom: “Don’t you tell me how to raise my child!”

(She grabs her son’s hand and leaves. Right when they get to the door, the kid looks back and actually SMIRKS at me and my coworker.)

Coworker: “Did that just happen?”

Me: *facepalm* “Yes, yes it did.”

Coworker: “No wonder he has problems; his mom cares more about her boob job than taking care of her own kid.”

(I turned in my notice a week later.)

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(I’m a customer in this story, getting into line to check out my items. I’m directly behind an older gentleman reading through a tabloid. This exchange happens when he gets to the checkout counter.)

Customer: “Can you tell me how much this costs? I can’t read it.”

Cashier: “Yes, it is $4.99. Would you like to purchase it?”

Customer: *thinks for a few seconds* “Yes.”

Cashier: *scans tabloid* “Sir, that will be $5.35, would you like a bag?”

Customer: *hands cashier a $5, grabs the magazine*

Cashier: “Sir, I need $0.35 more.”

Customer: “What, why?”

Cashier: “The total is $5.35.”

Customer: *points to magazine, shouts* “YOU SAID FOUR! FOUR! NOT FIVE!”

Cashier: “Yes, it’s $4.99, plus tax. The tax makes it $5.35.”

Customer: “NO.”

Cashier: “Yes, sir, you need to pay the tax.”

Customer: “WHY?! YOU SAID FOUR! FOUR!“

Cashier: “It’s $4.99, plus the tax, so the total is $5.35.”

(This goes on for a minute, so I grab 35 cents from my pocket and hand it to the cashier. The cashier puts it into the till.)

Cashier: “It’s been paid for; you can leave now.”

Customer: *still shouting* “NO, YOU SAID FOUR! I am giving you this $5 and no more!”

Cashier: “Sir, the woman behind you paid the rest of it; you can take the magazine.”

(This surprisingly still goes on for another minute, as the customer either didn’t notice me paying for it or doesn’t believe the cashier.)

Cashier: *gives up* “Sir, please take the magazine and leave.”

Customer: *walks away, still grumbling*

Me: “You’re welcome, sir.”

(The customer ignored me and walked toward the door, still grumbling. I approached the counter, and the cashier and I shared a look that said, “Did that really happen?” As I paid for my items and turned to leave, the customer actually came back toward the counter, and I’m not sure what happened after that. That poor cashier. I hope the rest of his day went well.)