(I’m 18 in this story, working on a 200,000-acre grazing allotment, basically babysitting 1,200 beef cows for a ranch. The allotment is broken up into sections and we have to move the cattle from one section to the next within a given time frame to avoid fines, and while the area is really remote, there are some hiking trails, a fairly well-known lake, and other places that attract outdoorsy tourists. At this time, the other cowhand and I are moving about 300 head from one allotment to another on the dirt road. The other hand is up front, “pointing” the cows and trying to keep them from heading the wrong way, which isn’t too hard since the road is fairly narrow with a steep hill on one side and a drop-off on the other. I’m at the back on a young horse, pushing the stragglers to keep up. Note that livestock have the right of way and if you hit someone’s cow, you’re responsible. A guy in a shiny sports car comes roaring up on us, honking his horn. Once I get my colt under control I give him a crusty look. He rolls down his window.)

Tourist: “You need to move them off the road. I have places to be!”

Me: “You’re just going to have to wait. As you can see, there are 300 head and the road is narrow. When it’s wide enough up ahead, the cows will spread out and I’ll help you through.”

Tourist: “That won’t work! I need to get through. You need to get them out of the way.”

Me: “Dude, they have the right of way.”

Tourist: “I don’t care. Get them off the road.”

(I look pointedly at the steep hillside and drop-off on the sides of the road.)

Me: “Where?”

Tourist: “That’s not my problem.” *starts honking again*

(The cows ignore him, but my horse shies. While I’m settling him down, the guy revs his car and bumps into the hind legs of one of the cows. I make note of his license plate.)

Me: “If you injure a cow, you’ll be paying for it. State law.”

Tourist: “Where I come from, the cowboys will move the cows out of the way and be polite about it.”

Me: “Go back where you came from, then.”

Tourist: “B****.” *gets to close to cow and acts as if he’ll bump her again*

Cow: *takes massive crap on his hood*

Tourist: “Oh. My. GOD!”

(He finally slowed down and backed off. When the road widened out and the cattle drifted apart, he went blasting through them. The cow was fine, my horse had a good lesson, and two days later the ranch owner stopped in to tell us that the guy had complained to the rangers about us. Luckily, I’d spoken to a forest ranger first chance I got and gave him the guy’s description and plate number, so they had an idea of what happened and they advised him as to our free-range laws.)

Me: “Hi, have you shopped at [Store] before?”

Customer: “Yes, I have.”

Me: “Fantastic, what’s your last name and zip code?”

(The customer provides info, which I enter, and I find a single customer entry for this info.)

Me: *wanting to confirm I have the right customer* “What’s your first name, please?”

Customer: “[Customer].”

Me: *a little curious, since that isn’t the name I have in my database* “Hm, can you please confirm your address?”

Customer: *address that matches the info on file*

Me: “Yes, that’s what I’ve got. It must have been entered by another woman in your household; I have [Other Name] on record.”

(All this time, the customer has been friendly and pleasant. However, at the mention of [Other Name], she turns cold in an instant — calm, but furious.)

Customer: *enunciating forcefully and glaring daggers at me* “That’s. The Ex. WIFE!”

Me: *frozen in place, not sure what to say*

Customer: “She’s been The Ex-Wife for ten years; how is she still on this account and I’m not?! I’ve been shopping here forever!”

Me: *recovering from my shock* “Well then, it seems we are well overdue to update your info. Let’s just take care of this, shall we?”

(I’m a tech support representative for an online retailer that also has their own brand of Wi-Fi-enabled technology. One night, I get a call from a customer who is having trouble connecting his device to his home Wi-Fi network. I start walking him through the troubleshooting steps. Eventually, we reach the part where he is supposed to reboot his network.)

Me: “Go ahead and unplug your modem and router, wait fifteen seconds, and plug them back in.”

(The line disconnects. After a few seconds, I realize he must have had a VoIP [Voice over Internet Protocol] line. I wait a minute or two to give his system a chance to reboot, then call him back.)

Me: “I’m so sorry about that; I didn’t realize you were using a VoIP line. Let’s move on with troubleshooting.”

Customer: *very angry* “I don’t understand why you didn’t know that! You should have known! Your system should tell you that!”

Me: *confused, as I definitely have no way of knowing what type of phone they’re calling me on* “Sir, I am very sorry; I have no way of knowing what type of line you’re using.”

Customer: “I don’t understand! You are [Major Internet Company], are you not?”

Me: “Um… No?”

(Needless to say, I double-check what type of line the customer is using before we reboot their network now.)

(A couple walks up to my register with a cutting board and asks me to price-check it.)

Me: “Ten dollars.”

Wife: “Really? I’m going to grab another one so I can use my coupon!”

(I notice she has a $20-off-$50 coupon, but of course, the fact that she has to spend $50 is in the fine print.)

Me: “Just to let you know, that coupon is $20 off $50, not $20 off $20.”

Wife: *who was cheery and pleasant, but is now angry* “Show me where it says that!”

(I literally read it off the back of the coupon that she has to spend $50.)

Husband: “Can I use [different coupon for 35% off] on this vacuum?”

(I scan the vacuum, and of course, it’s on a sale that’s excluded from our coupons. Just my luck.)

Me: “I’m sorry. Because the vacuum is on [excluded sale], you can’t use that coupon, but you can use two of the $20-off-$50 coupons because the vacuum is over $100.”

(His wife slams two of the $20-off coupons onto my counter and just as I feared, each coupon only takes $10 off because home store items are under the $10-off tier on the coupon, also in the fine print. I tell the couple this, and they’re not happy to hear this.)

Husband: “Seriously? This always happens to us. Your exclusions are impossible.”

Me: “I’m sorry. I don’t make the exclusions; that’s corporate.”

Husband: “I know you don’t.”

(His wife storms off to find something else to use the rest of her $20-off coupons on while he buys the vacuum. I start taping a bag onto the vacuum box to show that he’s purchased it since we’re out of the stickers we would normally use. I go back behind my counter when I’m done and I just giving the husband a polite, civil smile.)

Husband: “I don’t find this amusing. You look like you’re enjoying this. You look like you enjoy doing this to customers.”

(What I really want to say is, “I’m 19 and making minimum wage. I really don’t enjoy being harassed over coupon policies you know I have no control over.” Instead, I say this:)

Me: “No, sir, I don’t. I’m just smiling to be polite.”

(I saw them both with a cart full of items several times throughout the day, and the husband refused to look me in the eye. I kind of hope he felt bad for harassing me.)

(This happens every single week with the same woman, without fail. This lady digs through our bread, then approaches the counter.)

Customer: “What’s the date today?”

Me: “It’s [date].”

Customer: “This bread goes off [two days from date]!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. It’s freshly baked bread with no additives; it goes stale quickly.”

Customer: “This is unreasonable. Why doesn’t it have a longer date?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s nothing we can do. There’s no more bread in the shop and if there was, it would have the same date.”

Customer: *storms out*