(I don’t have a car and my family lives next to an airport. When I am going to school, I often use an airport shuttle to get to and from my house in between breaks to save my parents time. My mom mentions paying for a shuttle I’ve never used, but she often gets confused so I am calling to make a reservation.)

Me: “Hi.”

Woman: “What can I help you with?”

Me: “I’m not sure, but I think I have a credit from before. If not, I can pay ,but I just want to—”

Woman: “Okay. Well, do you actually have your confirmation number?”

Me: “I don’t think—”

Woman: “Or a phone number?”

Me: “I’m not sure if my mom used my phone number or hers but here’s mine: [number].”

Woman: “Okay, but do you actually have a date?”

Me: “I thought you could use my phone number?”

Woman: *starting to use a baby voice* “Ma’am, I am just trying to find your reservation but I don’t have your confirmation number.”

Me: “I know I don’t have all the information you want, but there’s no reason for you to be so sarcastic. I’m giving you the alternate information you asked for.”

Woman: *higher-pitched baby voice* “I don’t know what you mean? I’m just trying to help you.”

Me: “What’s your name?”

Woman: *in racist accent* “Juan. Pablo. Tim.”

Me: “What is your name?”

Woman: “Oscar the Grouch.”

Me: “When do you stop working? I really don’t want to talk to you anymore and want to call back later and talk to someone else.”

(I now realize that could sound like I wanted to wait for her in the parking lot, but spending any time near her is the furthest thing from my mind.)

Woman: “I’m just trying to help you, ma’am.”

Me: “Can you just check to see if I have a credit?”

Woman: “You didn’t give me the date.”

Me: “It would be my most recent trip.”

Woman: *voice suddenly becoming conversational* “Oh, you know. This system is so crappy and old I just get frustrated.”

Me: “Why were you angry?”

Woman: “Oh, well, people lie all the time to get free rides. I wasn’t even looking any of your information up. Honestly, I was just trying to make you go away.”

Me: “…”

Woman: “What was the phone number again?”

This story is part of the grouch day roundup!

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(My supervisor is assisting me with an irate customer and now the customer wants to speak to my supervisor’s supervisor.)

Customer: “Who’s your supervisor?”

Supervisor: “Sir, I AM the supervisor. I don’t have a supervisor.”

Customer: “Who’s the president of the company?”

Me: “[President].”

Customer: *to my supervisor* “THAT’s your supervisor. Everyone has a supervisor.”

Me: *genuinely curious* “But then who’s [President]’s supervisor?”

Customer: *to me* “You’re a horse’s a**.”

(I’m waiting in the security line at the airport. It’s pretty early in the morning so there aren’t a lot of lines open, and they’re moving rather slowly. There’s a woman in the line next to me who has about five people in front of her, whereas I’m next up in mine. I’m waiting for a pat down for medical reasons, so I have a bit longer to wait.)

Woman: *to TSA agent* “Excuse me, do you know how much longer it will take? I’m about to miss my flight.”

TSA Agent: “Ma’am, you’re going to have to wait your turn like everyone else. You should have arrived to the airport earlier to avoid this.”

Woman: “I know. I’m sorry, it was just that something happened and I only just made it in. Can’t you just tell me how much longer it will be?”

TSA Agent: “Well, that’s your problem. Everyone has to wait their turn. You should have thought of that.”

(By now the woman is nearly in tears, and is fidgeting anxiously while the line inches forward. The TSA agent just ignores her and continues yelling out orders to the people in line. I decide I’ve had enough.)

Me: *to man behind me* “Excuse me, would you mind letting this woman go in front of us? She’s about to miss her flight.”

Man: “Yeah, of course. That’s fine.”

(I jump out of my line and tap the woman on the shoulder.)

Me: “Ma’am, you can go ahead of me so you don’t miss your flight. There’s no one in front of me.”

Woman: “Oh, my God, thank you so much! That is so kind of you!”

(I help her gather up her stuff and move to my line. She is profusely thanking me the whole time, and various passengers behind us in both lines are applauding me for letting her go ahead. She goes through the scanner and thanks me one last time before leaving. The TSA agent is glaring the whole time, but does nothing to stop us.)

TSA agent: *as she’s grabbing me for my pat down* “Ugh, she should have just gotten here earlier and not made it everyone else’s problem!”

(She continued complaining the entire time she was doing my pat down. Some people…)

(We’ve just come through customs on a flight from Barcelona, so many of the people on the flight speak Spanish. I’m white, but speak Spanish fluently. All of this is in Spanish.)

Lady: “Can anyone help me?”

(The rest of the group by the monitors happens to not understand her.)

Me: “I speak Spanish. What do you need?”

Lady: “My flight is 0917 and I can’t find it. To Lima, Peru.”

Me: “It just lists 917 and it’s at D23.”

(We are at the monitors next to the escalator that would take her to D23.)

My Friend: *in English* “The tram’s here.”

(We start to get on the train and the lady follows, thinking we’re leading her to the gate when we need to get halfway across the airport. At this point, we’re separated by a large crowd, so I have to scream to be heard, still in Spanish.)

Me: *gesticulating wildly* “DOWNSTAIRS! DOWNSTAIRS!”

(The lady nods and gets off the train, but I have to wonder what everyone thought of the white girl screaming “Para abajo!” and flailing her arms for no apparent reason.)

(I am 15. My friend has invited me up to Canada for a week to visit. I’m surprisingly well-traveled for my age. We board, and I take my seat. A few minutes later, a woman who appears to be my seatmate, approaches. She’s one of the last few on the plane.)

Me: *smiling* “Hello!”

Woman: *frowns* “Sweetie, where are your parents?”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “Your parents! I bet they left you back here so they could sit in first class, huh!”

Me: “No, actually—”

Woman: “This is unacceptable! How could any parent be so irresponsible as to leave a child in economy alone!”

Me: “Ma’am, wait, no—”

Woman: “Unacceptable!” *presses the button for a flight attendant*

(A flight attendant appears almost immediately.)

Flight Attendant: “Do you need assistance lifting your bag into the overhead locker, ma’am?”

Woman: “No! This little girl’s parents have left her alone in economy so they could sit in first class, and she’s obviously never flown before!”

Flight Attendant: *to me* “Is that true, honey?”

Me: *groans* “Look, I know I look young, but I assure you my parents haven’t ‘left me.’ I’m flying alone.”

Woman: *gasps* “You’re flying alone on your first plane trip?!”

Me: “NO! Lady, would you just listen to me! I am 15 years old, and I’ve probably traveled more than you! Yes, I’m flying alone, but I’ve done this many times.”

Woman: “Don’t lie, dear. You’ve never been outside of the states before.”

Me: *fed up with her, digs out passport* “Look at this. Here are six entry stamps to the UAE, three different Vietnam tourist visas, a stamp from Cambodia, South Africa, Greece, Thailand, the Czech Republic, Germany, and lady, I could go on! This is my second passport! Do you believe me now?!”

(The guy in the seat behind me claps.)

Woman: “Well, I never!” *sits down in a huff*

Flight Attendant: *to me* “If she bothers you any more, just let me know and I’ll handle it.”

Me: “Thank you!”

(The woman didn’t speak to me the rest of the flight. Once we landed, however…)

Woman: “Do you know where the baggage claim is?”

Me: *sweetly* “Sorry, ma’am, I don’t. This is my first time flying and as a little girl with no parents, I don’t know where I’m going! Maybe you should ask an adult who’s flown before!”

(She stormed off!)