(I work in customer service for a telecommunications company. Part of my job is to sell people new phones and phone contracts. In doing so we have to gather a lot of the customers’ personal information, such as address, date of birth, etc. One afternoon before close, a very tall middle-aged man enters the shop. I am the only female in store; there are two other male coworkers on with me. The customer gestures to me for assistance and I go over to him.)

Customer: “You guys keep a lot of people’s information on file, don’t you?”

Me: “Is there something I can help you with?”

Customer: “Yeah, can you check my details are up to date?”

Me: “Sure, I’ll just need a few details from you first, starting with your phone number.”

(I then go behind the desk and put the phone number he gives me into the system. He cannot see my screen. The account of the number he gave me belongs to a woman. Following procedure, I then ask him to verify his identity before I can access the account. He starts getting agitated.)

Customer: “Look, I just need to check you have the correct address!”

Me: “I’m happy to help you do that but first I’ll need you to verify you are the account holder.”

Customer: “So you’re refusing to help me? I’ve come all the way down here and I’m being refused service!”

(I repeat exactly the same thing. By now my coworkers are sensing a difficult customer and are hovering near me.)

Customer: *yelling* “B****! You’re all b****es! She f***ing stole everything I have and I just need to find out where she’s gone!”

(Then my coworkers stepped in, one calling security while the other told the customer to leave. They were prepared because that kind of thing was pretty regular.)

(I am sitting waiting for my car to be repaired at the service center of a dealership while I overhear this.)

Mechanic: “All right, Mr. [Customer], your car is all set!”

Customer: “Thanks! So what do I owe you?”

Mechanic: “Well, let’s see. We did an oil change and rotated your tires so it’s [Price], but I do think you should know that your wheels are bent and you may want to consider replacing your tires when you come back from vacation since they’re rather worn down and won’t function well in the snow.”

Customer: “Are you kidding me?! My wheels are bent? How the hell does that even happen?”

Mechanic: “Well, if you go over a large pot hole too quickly that may do it. See, the good thing is though [Car Brand] makes their wheels out of an alloy so they bend instead of breaking, preventing accidents.”

Customer: “Ugh! I can’t believe this. I should expect better quality out of a $50,000 car! You’d think after paying that much they would give me decent tires that didn’t wear down after 20,000 miles! This is such bullcrap! Like, seriously, this pisses me off. Oh, and for the record, you can tell me whatever you want but that car does not do s*** in the snow! It sucks! I don’t care if I can turn off the f****** traction whatever it’s total s***!”

Mechanic: “Uh… right. Well, sir, here is your total. Have a great day.”

Customer: “Yeah, whatever! I don’t care! I’m mad! I expect more after you took $50,000 from me for a f****** car!”

(I was ready to tell him that if he really didn’t want his car we could trade!)

(I am helping set up a new store that has opened even though we haven’t got everything set up. We sell craft and sewing items. I have been given baskets full of loose embroidery threads; there are literally thousands in the baskets to go onto a few hundred individually numbered hooks that go from above my head to ankle level. As someone who has had back problems I know that constant bending will bring on pain so I grab a chair and dump a pile of threads into my lap. I put up the lower level one while sorting the higher level ones into a basket. A customer walks up the side aisle and sees me seated in the chair.)

Customer: *sarcastically* “Oh, nice and comfortable are we? You young ones are so lazy. Just sitting there in a chair like tha—” *turns corner as I look up showing that I am in fact middle-aged and surrounded by so much stock* “Oh. Perhaps I should have waited before I put my foot in my mouth. I’m so sorry.”

(It always gets me that people think retail workers have no right to sit down. We are expected to be on our feet for 8-10 hours a day.)

(A middle-aged lady walks into our print shop one afternoon and comes to the counter looking a bit hesitant.)

Me: “Hello, can I help?”

Customer: “My friend told me I can do photocopies here. Is that right?”

Me: “Yes, certainly.”

Customer: “Oh… well, where are the photocopiers?”

Me: “Well, there’s one just behind you. And one over there by the door. And one up there, and one just beyond it.”

Customer: “Oh! I thought they were fridges!”

(We are a deli and convenience store in a very affluent and entitled community which gets SLAMMED at lunchtime. From 11:30-1:30 parking is hard to find. A woman calls the counter where I am taking orders and working register.)

Customer: “This is unbelievable! I’ve been waiting for a parking spot for over ten minutes! I’m a busy woman; you need to bring my order out to my car and I will give you the money! You also need to pick up some–” *lists a bunch of snacks and sodas* “–and bring it to me.”

(I’ve noticed the customer’s Maserati in the middle of the parking lot holding up traffic. She’s been waiting not more than 90 seconds.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but it is the lunch rush hour and no employee can leave the counter. Also, we do not gather your drinks and snacks. That is a service we do not provide, nor is bringing your order out to your car. You must get them yourself and bring them to the register to be checked out.”

Customer: “I have to bring my child’s lunch to school. I’m already 20 minutes late from the nail salon! I demand you bring my stuff out to my car!”

Me: “Ma’am, you want me to spend 10 minutes gathering your snacks for you, ring it up at the register, run to your car, get your money, go back to the register to get your change, and then run your money out to your car again, making every single other person’s order late?”

Customer: “Yes, or I am never coming back here again!”

(I didn’t end up doing any of that, and she screamed at us that we provided horrible customer service and she was never coming back again. Lo and behold, she was back the next day three times to buy her family breakfast, lunch, and dinner.)