(It is about a half hour from closing when the phone rings. If you want to pay for delivery with a card, you have to do it over the phone.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Restaurant]. This is [My Name]. Will this be for pickup or delivery?”

Customer: “Delivery, please.”

(We go through the normal ordering process of phone number, address, what she actually wants; when we get to the payment.)

Customer: “Yeah, I like, want to charge it.”

Me: “Okay, I just need your card number whenever you’re ready.”

Customer: “It’s [Number].”

Me: “Expiration date?”

Customer: “October 2014.”

Me: “I’m sorry, it’s coming up declined. Let’s try the number again.”

Customer: *in a huff* “Okaaay, it’s 4… 2… 3…”

(She’s saying each number slowly and dramatically, as if I processed it wrong because I’m stupid. I’m a bit disgruntled until the next part happens.)

Me: “And for the expiration, I have ten-fourteen?”

Customer: “No, October. Like, eleven-fourteen.”

Me: “Okay, I think I see the problem here. You’re all set and it’ll be about forty minutes. Have a great night.”

(I’m working as a cashier on Black Friday. A man cuts to the front of the line with an armful of clothing.)

Me: “Uh, sir, you’ll have to go to the back of the line. I’m sorry.”

Rude Customer: “F*** that! No way I’m waiting that long! Just make it quick!”

Me: “No, sir. You just cut the line, and I won’t serve you.”

Rude Customer: “Oh, f*** you! Just do your job already! You’re only making this take longer!”

(At this point, the customer he cut in front of, a man in his early 20s, speaks up, quietly and calmly.)

Calm Customer: “Just go back and wait in line, man. Stop being a d**k.”

Rude Customer: “F*** y-”

(The rude customer rounds on the calm one as he speaks, raising his hand in what may or may not have been an attempt at a backhand. Regardless, the calm customer catches his arm, twists it, and slams the rude customer’s face into the counter hard enough for it to make an audible thunk through the clothes. The entire time, the calm customer remains stone-faced.)

Rude Customer: “Ow! A**hole! Lemme go! You can’t do this!”

Calm Customer: “Texas law says I can use lethal force if I’m attacked.”

(He twists the man’s arm a little more, causing him to cry out.)

Calm Customer: “You don’t want that, do you?”

Rude Customer: “Ow! No! Just lemme go!”

Calm Customer: “Where are you going to go?”

Rude Customer: “Back of the line! Back of the line!”

Calm Customer: “And are you going to be patient? And polite?”

Rude Customer: “Yeah, man! Sure!”

Calm Customer: “Apologize to the nice young lady, now.”

Rude Customer: *starting to cry slightly* “I’m sorry! I’m sorrryyyyy!”

(The calm customer released the rude one, who almost looked like he was going to attack again. One look at the calm customer’s completely emotionless face seemed to make him think twice, though, and he grabbed his clothes and scampered back to the end of the line.)

 Related:
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 3
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 2
In Line And Out Of Line

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(I manage a tobacco store and the law says we cannot sell any tobacco products to anyone under 18 and MUST card if customer looks under 30. A young girl and older woman enter store and at the door the young girl hands cash to older woman. Right away I know that she is underage and older woman is buying for her which is illegal. I know I cannot sell at this point but let them come in to see how it goes down.)

Me: “Hello, how are you? What can I get for you today?”

(Both stand there staring intently at the cigarette display without speaking. After a solid minute I ask the older woman:)

Me: “What brand do you normally smoke?”

(She turns to young girl and says:)

Woman: “Well? What do you smoke?”

(I immediately address the young girl and ask for I.D.)

Woman: *very rudely* “I’m buying them, not her!”

(I state that now I know she is buying for a minor I legally cannot sell either one cigarettes.)

Girl: *starts screaming at woman* “Grandma! WHY DID YOU ASK ME THAT? Now I can’t get my smokes!”

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(I am in Germany on a school trip. I have never been before, nor do I speak German. I am currently with two of my friends talking about going out to dinner on the train platform.)

(A middle-aged man hurries up to me.)

Man: “Guten tag!”

Me: “…guten tag.”

Man: *over enunciating* “Do. You. Speak. English?”

Me: “…yeah?”

Man: “Oh, thank god. Everyone’s so unhelpful around here! How do I get from [rattles off a number of places in quick succession].”

Me: “I’m sorry…”

Man: *cutting me off angrily* “I thought you said you spoke English!”

Me: “I do. I just don’t know any of those places.”

Man: “Why the h*** not?!”

Me:” I’m from Oregon…”

Related:
The Oregon Fail, Part 2
The Oregon Fail

(A customer brings over a pair of wool socks and a large pack of toe warmers to my till. He is in his early twenties, but seems nice enough.)

Me: “Getting ready for the cold weather? I heard it’s supposed to snow.”

Customer: “No, it’s for a drug test.”

(Thinking I didn’t hear right.)

Me: “What?”

Customer: “They help me pass my drug test, every time.”

Me: “…”