I work at a movie theatre, and we have had a few ridiculous customers trying to buy alcohol without an ID. Our POS systems require a valid ID to serve alcohol.

A customer tries to show his news anchor badge.

Customer: “I’m old enough and I am on the news! You should be able to serve me!”

I work as a waiter at a restaurant. In the city I work at, there’s a truffle dish that’s widely beloved… and also avaible only in a specific time of year.

The customer I had at my table seemed to be understanding enough to order something else, but the other customer…

Customer: “If you don’t have truffle-oiled gnocchi, why do you have it on the menu? Bring me some!”

Server: “Sir, we are currently out of stock, really, we just had no time to change it.”

Customer: “Fine then, take it off the menu and I’ll leave. Or maybe you can do your job and stop saving it for yourself for after dinner.”

The server leaves, and that seems to be the end of that… until I notice the customer hasn’t left the table yet, and he hasn’t ordered anything else for a while. I decide to intervene.

Me: “Are you fine, sir? Do you need anything?”

Customer: “I’m not leaving ’til my server either comes back and wipes truffle oil gnocchi off the specials’ blackboard, or until I get served it!”

I knew it was a power trip. I knew it would reward his behaviour. But everyone had better things to do than play brinksmanship with some old dude, so I went to the blackboard, and wiped that d***ed dish with my uniform’s sleeve. I then went back to him, who looked red in the face.

Me: “Are you satisfied now, sir?”

Customer: “Yeah, especially now that I left this place the review it deserves on TripAdvisor, you scammers!”

He then got up and walked out huffing and puffing, spitting on the door’s glass before finally, finally, leaving. I went to check TripAdvisor, and he did leave a negative review, but in his version of the story, not being served by his own choice and leaving for free became him being forced by the owner, a twig of a woman mind you, shaking him down for money after not being served a dish we had totally sworn it was available, paying 50€ for the privilege of being insulted.

I honestly don’t get people sometimes.

It’s a pretty quiet Monday night. Bad weather means there aren’t a lot of customers, so we’re working on tidying up. The manager and I are at the back of the store talking about things that need to get done when the cashier on with us calls out over the radio.

Cashier: “Uh, a woman just came in and asked if we have dildos.”

Manager: *Looks at me, concerned* “I’m sorry, what did she ask for?”

Cashier: “Dildos.”

Manager: “That… That’s what I thought you said.”

Cashier: “Yeah, I said no, and she left.”

Me: *Not over the radio* “Well, we have clay in A-23 if she wanted to make one. Don’t recommend it, though.”

Manager: “Don’t give them any ideas.”

Me: “Here’s the high-res version of the logo. Let me know when I can expect to have my invoice returned.”

Client: “Um, about that… I’m not sure I can approve this.”

Me: “The logo? But you approved it yesterday.”

Client: “That was yesterday.”

Me: “Yeah…?”

Client: “It’s not yesterday anymore.”

At my job, we have a number system. To come in, pull a number and wait until we call this number. We have huge signs all over the place. As anyone who has worked retail (or read this site) can tell you, customers don’t read signs.

A million and one times a day I am calling out numbers and get a customer asking where the numbers are. While the big red number dispenser in the middle of the floor has four different signs pointing at it and is literally right next to your elbow.

This is fine, whatever. They take a number and wait. Until this woman.

Me: “Sixteen, can I please help guest number sixteen?”

Customer: “I have been waiting for twenty minutes! When is someone going to help me?”

She hasn’t. I literally watched her just walk in.

Me: *Cheery smile even though I can tell she’s going to be a nightmare.* “I’m so sorry ma’am. We have to help customers with the numbers they pull. If you pull a number from the red dispenser, we will give you a shout when it’s your turn.”

I gesture to the number dispenser and turn to number sixteen, a patient woman who waits for the other to walk toward the dispenser before asking me about a product. As I am helping my customer, I keep an eye on this woman. Some customers need ‘help’ getting a number. I got around the counter and show her the number dispenser and pulled out number twenty and hand it to her.

Me: “My coworker is helping seventeen and I will help eighteen. It shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”

I am still smiling even as my teeth are starting to grind. She walks around looking lost and annoyed and bugs another coworker who checks her number and tells her she will be helped when we get to twenty. Somehow in two minutes she loses her number. I wrap up eighteen.

Me: “Number nineteen, please.”

She saunters up. I know she’s not nineteen. I keep my smile plastered on my face.

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, I am helping nineteen. You’re next after that.”

Customer: “I’m in a hurry so I am between eighteen and nineteen.”

The math doesn’t work but whatever. I want to tell her to get stuffed. I want to help nineteen who is standing behind this woman looking longingly at the bread behind my head. My manager has noticed the commotion and tells me to help the entitled brat. I get my coworker to take nineteen and I deal with her order.

It’s ridiculously complicated and time-consuming. She has this condescending tone that says she got exactly what she wanted. I don’t say another word except yes ma’am and no ma’am. Several items if ordered differently would be cheaper. I tell guests this usually, but she didn’t want to follow the rules. By inconveniencing everyone she lost money and I took my sweet time putting it together.

By the time I am finished the lobby has filled and emptied several times. If she had waited her turn, I would have helped her save time and money and I would have asked another worker for help. Oops.