(Two customers order cheeseburgers which are identical, except one has ketchup and one has mustard. A while after they get their food, one of them comes back up, waving a burger and looking furious.)

Customer: “You gave me the wrong burger!”

Manager: “Oh, I’m sorry about that. What was wrong with it?”

Customer: “This has mustard! I didn’t want mustard; I wanted ketchup!”

Manager: “Okay, we can remake that for you. Did we switch the burgers around?”

Customer: *looking confused* “I don’t know. My friend grabbed my burger, and started eating it. She ate the whole thing before she noticed it had ketchup. So I need this one remade, since I don’t like mustard!”

(I am at a hair salon. The way the system works at this particular location is you write your name down on the sign-in form, and an employee crosses your name out once they put your name on the computer waiting list. My sister and I have already signed in and been added to the computer. I am getting my hair cut and my sister is just waiting her turn, when an elderly man walks in and puts his name on the list. My sister gets called.)

Elderly Man: “Isn’t it my turn now? There was no one before me on the list!”

Employee #1: *explains that my sister was first, because she signed in first*

Elderly Man: “Hmph!”

(My hair is done, I have paid, and I am waiting now for my sister to finish up. The elderly man gets called.)

Employee #2: *to elderly man* “How are you today?”

Elderly Man: “I still don’t understand why I wasn’t next; all the other names were crossed out on the list.”

Employee #2: *patiently repeats what the other employee already said*

Elderly Man: “Hmph!”

(My sister looks uncomfortable. I’m wondering what his problem is, since my sister was obviously there before he came in.)

Employee #2: “How were you wanting your hair cut today?”

Elderly Man: “Cut it medium with the clippers.”

Employee #2: *hesitates, looks confused* “A number three comb?”

Elderly Man: “Medium!”

Employee #2: “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Elderly Man: “Medium! Medium! How can you not know what a medium haircut is?!”

(By this time my sister is done and paying. As we leave, the elderly man is still insisting that he always gets his hair cut “medium.” The poor stylist is flustered and confused.)

Me: *to my sister* “I think he has [Hair Salon] confused with [Fast Food Restaurant].”

(It is a very busy dinner rush and this family walks up. No smiles or polite small talk, already rude. I’m hard of hearing, and they start to get upset that I have to repeat questions sometimes. I finish the order and they walk away. Five minutes later the mom returns.)

Customer: “My son wants to change his order!”

(Again, it’s the middle of dinner rush, and she has cut the line that is almost to the door.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, it’s just going to take me a second because I have to void out part of the transaction and resend it through. It’ll just take a second. Is that all right?”

Customer: “I don’t see what the big deal is! People change their orders all the time.”

Me: “Okay, I just need a moment to—”

Customer: “Can you just ask someone?”

(I flag down my shift lead who just makes a quick change for her to keep the line moving. No muss no fuss. And instead of going back to her family, she decides to get on my case again.)

Customer: “I don’t think that was a big deal or a problem. I think you didn’t know what to do and you have a problem with me.”

Me: “Is there anything else I can do for you today, ma’am?”

(She walks away all huffy.)

Me: “Well, okay… Have a great night, then.”

(Guess there’s no satisfying some people.)

(It’s my first year of working on the cash register. A very tall and muscular man is one of my customers. The purchase goes smoothly.)

Me: “That will be $8.25.”

(The customer puts down a few bills on the counter. I’ve seen other customers do this as a way of handing me money, so I reach over to take the bills. Immediately, my customer grabs my wrist and yanks hard enough to pull me onto the counter. He looks me square in the eyes and speaks to me in the calmest, most condescending tone.)

Customer: “Now, listen to me. I’m still getting the rest of my change out. You don’t get to take it until I give you everything. Do you understand?”

(I was too stunned to speak. He let me go and I lowered myself back behind the register, while he got a quarter and handed me the money without another word. Because of this assault, I refuse to pick up money if it’s still on the counter for me to reach over and take, not just because I’m scared of it happening again, but because I now have an aching arm injury that makes it hard to reach.)

(I am a hostess at a family restaurant that has quite a few regulars. I am relatively new, so not everyone has seen me all that often. Last weekend I wore glasses.)

Me: “Hello! Welcome to [Restaurant].”

Customer: “You look so much prettier without your glasses! You shouldn’t wear them!”

(I am stunned and not quite sure how to respond, so I walk her and her husband to their table and move on. Later, I pass by and the woman flags me down.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am?”

Customer: “It must suck, being that pretty, and that skinny, but too short to be a model!”

Me: *shocked and mumble* “Um, I guess so.”

(I avoided as much conversation as I could with that woman for the rest of my time there.)