(A man comes in and starts looking through the clothes. He grabs a pair of pants and starts fast-walking towards the door.)

Coworker: “Sir, are you going to pay for those?”

Man: “No.”

Coworker: “Sir, we really need you to pay for those.”

Man: “NO!”

Me: “Please, sir! We need those back!”

Man: “I need them more!”

(The man bolted out the door. We looked at each other for a moment dumbfounded and then burst out laughing.)

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(I work for a company that provides online subscriptions of technical software. A customer calls us from Colorado.)

Customer: “I need the password to my account.”

Me: “I can assist you with that; can you verify your username?”

Customer: “I don’t know it. That’s why I’m calling you.”

Me: “Okay. Well, how about your email address?”

Customer: “Try these…”

(He gives me five email addresses. I search them all.)

Me: “Sir, I can’t find these. Can you tell me the company name?”

Customer: “Try these…”

(He gives me two company names. I am getting suspicious, but I look them up anyway.)

Me: “Sir, I still can’t find these. What about any names that may be on the account.”

Customer: “F***! We signed up six months ago, and spent $2500 with your d*** company! We haven’t even used your s*** yet, so you better find my password.”

Me: “Would you have a confirmation number?”

Customer: “NO! Where the f*** would that be?”

Me: “It would’ve been sent in an email.”

Customer: “That was six months ago! Who the f*** keeps emails that long?”

Me: “Well, if I’d spent $2500 on something, I’d try to keep track of it.”

Customer: “F*** you. You’re not helping me because you don’t f****** want to. I want to speak to your supervisor.”

Me: “Sir, I am the supervisor. And if you have no confirmation number, no receipt, no username, no valid email address, no valid company name, and no valid customer name, I have no way to look up your account.”

Customer: “Look it up under [somewhat common name].”

Me: “Well, I do have one customer under that name.”

Customer: “That’s it!”

Me: “But he’s out of Texas, and he has never purchased what you say you’ve purchased.”

Customer: “Well it may be under Jennifer’s name.”

Me: “What’s Jennifer’s last name?”

Customer: “I don’t know. Just give me Jennifer’s account.”

Me: “Sir, we have at least 150 registered users named Jennifer.”

Customer: “Well find one out of Colorado and give me her username.”

Me: “If you’d like to tell ‘Jennifer’ to call us and give us authorization to give you access to her account, I’d be more than happy to help you.”

Customer: “Oh f*** you, you guys are worthless.” *hangs up*

(My coworker and I work in retail, but we are the customers in this story. We decide to hang out at her place after work. I order some pizza, and pick it up on the way to her house.)

Me: “Hi, I’m [name], and I’m here to pick up my order.”

Assistant Manager: “I am terribly sorry, sir. There has been a mistake with your order. We’re trying to fix it as soon as we can.”

Me: “Oh, dear. What happened? If it’s the wrong toppings, I’ll still take it.”

Assistant Manager: “No, sir, unfortunately one of our staff members accidentally gave your order to another customer. I am very sorry about this. We’ve just remade your order, and it’ll be done in just a couple of minutes.”

Me: “Okay, that’s fine, I totally understa—”

My Coworker: “WHAT?! I can’t believe you let this happen!”

Me: “Whoa, calm down, [coworker]! People make mistakes, and it’s not going to take very long.”

My Coworker: “No! I will not calm down, this is an outrage!”

(My coworker addresses the assistant manager.) “I demand that we be compensated for this inconvenience! I can’t believe they let you be assistant manager around here!”

Me: “Hey, hey, time out! I’m the one paying here, so you have no right to talk to him like that!”

Coworker: “No, the customer is ALWAYS right! He should throw in a few extras for free!”

Me: “Okay, if he did that, our order is gonna take even longer.”

(Not even one minute after our short argument, our pizzas get brought up to the front. I pay for exactly what I ordered, no more, no less, and we leave. On the way back to my car, my coworker is still muttering.)

Coworker: “I still think we should’ve gotten some free breadsticks or something.”

Me: “Listen. You work in customer service too. You go through the exact same s*** he does, and I know YOU wouldn’t tolerate customers who fly off the handle like you just did. I am not impressed with the blatant hypocrisy you just displayed.”

Coworker: “No, this is different! Our customers think they’re always right! In my case, I actually am!”

Me: “Normally, I’d make you walk home for saying such a dumb comment, but I really don’t want to expose your current state to the general public.”

(I am a female photographer working in a family oriented portrait studio. I have just finished doing Christmas pictures for a single mother and her two young sons. The youngest son, roughly six, is more interested in me.)

Me: “Go ahead and click through those. When you see the ones you want, just write the number down on this first line here. If you have any questions let me know, okay?”

Mother: “Okay, that seems easy enough.”

Boy: “Oh, I have a question!”

Me: “Yes?”

Boy: “Do you like this hat? This hat is so special!”

Me: “That is a neat hat! What makes it special?”

Boy: “It’s got my name on it! See?”

(The name ‘Ruben’ is written in green glitter on his Santa hat.)

Me: “Ruben?! Did you know there’s a really good sandwich named after you?”

Boy: “No way!”

(I check on the mother’s progress.)

Boy: “Hey, hey lady!”

Me: “Yes?”

Boy: “What’s your name?”

Me: “It’s Veronica, why?”

Boy: “Well, if there’s a sandwich named after you, I would so eat it!”

(The mother and I look at him, and laugh. The mother has also made a few decisions on her pictures.)

Me: “Okay, so your photos will be done in about an hour and a half; sound good?”

Mother: “Perfect!”

(The mother picks up the youngest boy and begins to leave my store. As they are leaving, the boy is clawing over her shoulder reaching out at me.)

Boy: “Hey, Veronica! Call me!”

Me: “I’ll call in 20 years, dude!”

Boy: “Okay! Don’t forget to call meeee!”

(I am supervising the changing rooms. A woman calls out from a locked cubicle.)

Woman: “Excuse me! My daughter’s having a nosebleed in here; could you get me a tissue?”

Me: “I don’t have one on me, I’m afraid. Wait a moment; I’ll see if my colleague can bring you one.”

(I call out and wave to my colleague, but she’s busy and doesn’t see me.)

Woman: “Excuse me! I need one now! It’s your job to help me, so do your job and go get me a tissue!”

Me: “I’m not allowed to leave the changing rooms unattended. I’m trying to get one for you; just one moment…”

Woman: “That’s not good enough! I need one now! Do your job!”

(An older lady in another cubicle starts speaking loudly.)

Older Lady: “It’s not her job to look after your daughter. She clearly doesn’t have any tissue, so just go to the toilets yourself. She obviously can’t leave the room while there are people in here; for all she knows, you could be a shoplifter who’s just trying to distract her!”

(A few seconds later, the angry woman emerges from her cubicle. She throws all the clothes she was trying on at me, then storms out of the shop with her suspiciously blood-free daughter. I thank the older lady when she comes out, and congratulate her on being so worldly-wise!)