(I’m a school science technician. I’ve never worked with cars. I am definitely not a mechanic. I answer my personal mobile phone.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Hello. I’d like to book a road-worthiness test.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, you’ve got the wrong number. This happens to me quite frequently. I must have a similar number to a garage.”

Caller: “Oh. Well, you know, I’ve got a whole fleet of vehicles that need testing.”

Me: “I’m afraid that doesn’t change the fact I am not a garage. I’m sorry.”

Caller: “Oh.”

(Extended silence.)

Caller: “But I have lots of vehicles that need testing.”

Me: “I’m still not a mechanic. Sorry. Good luck.”

(I hung up, hoping he wouldn’t call back. He didn’t, luckily!)

(This takes place in western Canada. French and English are both official languages in Canada, but sometimes people forget that, apparently. My coworker is from Montreal and has a strong French accent, though his English is excellent. A customer decides to give him trouble because he doesn’t speak English as a first language.)

Customer: “What the f***? You f***ers need to learn English before you come here! We only speak English in Canada!”

Coworker: “Sir, I was born in Canada. I’m from Montreal. French is my first language, but I assure you I’m fluent in English.”

Me: “Sir, I’m bilingual, too, because French is one of Canada’s official languages. If you’re going to be in Canada, why on Earth don’t you learn French?”

(He grabbed his coffee and stomped off.)

(A woman comes in with her daughter.)

Customer: “Hi, I’d like to collect some pre-booked tickets.”

Me: “Sure! Have you got the booking reference printout?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Oh, well, never mind! If you have it written down in another format or maybe saved in your phone, I should still be able to find it.”

Customer: “No. I don’t have it. The girl who served me last time didn’t ask for it. I just put my card in the machine.”

Me: “I’m sure you must have misunderstood. We cannot issue tickets without some type of secondary reference. Do you know the postcode associated with the billing address, and could I have your surname?”

Customer: “I don’t see why I need to give you those details. Look, I just want to print my daughter’s tickets and go back to work. You’re costing me money here.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but unless you can give me more details such as name, postcode, and destination, I can’t print your tickets. Look—” *swivels computer screen so the customer can see* “—here are the search fields I have for when there is no collection reference number available. Unless I can fill in two of these, I cannot print your tickets.”

Customer: *turning to daughter* “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE THE REFERENCE NUMBER?”

Customer’s Daughter: “Sorry, mum, you said I shouldn’t waste paper and the ticket people didn’t need it.”

Customer: “Well, clearly they do. YOU’RE ALL COSTING ME MONEY HERE!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but one of the terms is that you provide a reference for collection. Could you please let me try and help you with some of your other details?”

Customer: *snappily* “FINE! It’s [Surname] and [postcode].”

Me: “I’m sorry; nothing’s come up.” *shifts screen around again so she can see* “See? Could you have used a different postcode?”

Customer: “No. Look, this really isn’t good enough. Why won’t the destination work on its own?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but hundreds of people travel every day from [Our Station] to [Major London Station]. I’m just thinking: whose email did you put in? Since it’s quiet in here, I could let you around the back to use one of the staff computers to log in and find me the reference number. I should tell you though, that this is against company policy and that I am doing this at my own risk. I could face disciplinary action.”

Customer: “It’s [Daughter]’s email. Can she just do it? Can I go? I need to get back to work.”

Me: “If yours was the payment card, then I am afraid you will need to wait until your daughter has accessed her emails since the reference number is useless without the payment card and vice versa.”

Customer: “Fine. [Daughter], go in the back with this idiot and see if you can’t find this bleeding reference number between your half-a-brain-cell each.”

(The daughter nips around to my side of the booth, accesses her email, and within 30 seconds I have the tickets up. The woman inserts her card and collects her tickets, and before she leaves decides to have one more dig at me for how slow I was to get her tickets up on the system.)

Me: “I’m sorry it took so long to resolve your issue, but perhaps next time you might consider writing the reference number down? You needn’t print it; in fact [Train Company] offers to send a free SMS containing the details to your phone. It would save an awful lot of problems.”

Customer: “Or, you know, they could just hire competent staff who don’t need reference numbers!” *to Daughter* “Look at all the money you’ve cost me! I’m selling your Xbox when I get home!”

(She stormed out. Fortunately I haven’t seen her since, although the daughter stopped by on her return journey to thank me for helping her.)

(I am black/white biracial. I have just started working at a clothing and home goods store. We have a return policy that states that if an item doesn’t come back with a ticket, we have to go find one out on the floor. I’m working register, as are a Spanish/Mexican lady, a Puerto Rican, two African American women, and our Polish manager. An older African American lady comes up to the register five minutes before closing and wants to return a pair of jeans.)

Coordinator: *who is Spanish/Mexican* “Sorry, ma’am, these don’t have a ticket and we haven’t received any of these in a while. We will have to find a pair on the floor to match the price.”

Customer: *huffs* “Those pants were 12.99. Just make a ticket and take them!”

(The coordinator sends out one of us to look for a pair.)

Coordinator: “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that, ma’am. I need to have a number to make them from so that the computer will accept it.”

(It’s taking a while to find a style that matches what the customer is trying to return and two minutes pass. During this time, the rest of us have finished behind the counter and are waiting for the return to finish so that we can close the store. Our manager has come up from the office to see what is taking so long.)

Customer: *more huffs* “This is taking too long! Where’s your manager? I wanna talk to your manager about this!”

(We all look at our bemused manager.)

Customer: “What, that blonde lady?!”

Manager: “I’m sorry, but this is our policy. To do the return, we need to copy a ticket.”

Customer: *eyerolls*

(A match is found and the return is completed. As the customer is stuffing her wallet back in her purse, she leaves the store, muttering.)

Customer: “That’s racist. If I was a white woman it would’ve been done faster.”

(We all turned to each other and start laughing.)

Manager: “[My Name] is the only white person here! This blonde is all peroxide!”

(I work at a high-end gourmet grocery store as a cashier. Most of our customers are well-off. I work within walking distance from the store. I often cut through the parking lot of another grocery store to cross the street to my place of employment. One day after my shift I am crossing the parking lot of the other grocery store towards home. I DO NOT work at the other store. I hear my name being called and see a snobby lady I recognize as one of my regular customers gesturing for me to come to her. Not wanting to be rude, I walk over to her and to see what she wants.)

Customer: *snaps her fingers* “Finish loading my groceries into my car!”

(She then gets into the drivers seat to wait. I stand there stunned for a moment then go to the driver’s side window.)

Me: *politely* “I am off duty and I do not work actually for this particular grocery store.”

Customer: *annoyed* “I am not stupid! I know you do not work here but I am a regular customer of your store and you should help me!”

(I just look at her open mouthed and walk away. She flips out and starts yelling after me.)

Customer: “Your manager will hear about this!”

(The next day I am called to the office and my manager told me that the lady called and said I refused to help her pack her car. When I explained to my manager that this happened after my shift and at the grocery store across the street, he called the lady back right in front of me and sternly told her that if she ever harassed one of his employees or made a false complaint again he would ban her from the store. I never saw her face in the store again!)