I go to the dentist to get my wisdom teeth out. I have had two shots already and the laughing gas on, no big problem. 

He starts trying to pull one tooth out that grew in crooked and I tell him that it is hurting. He gives me another shot, which should deaden it right then. He tells me not to be such a baby. Then, instead of being gentle and rocking it back and forth to loosen it before pulling it, he grabs a pair of pliers and snatches the tooth straight out of the gum!

He starts doing that with my other one on the same side. I bite the fire out of him. He has the nerve to tell my mom that I “need to be more prepared for a dental visit.” Not when one almost snatches your gums out of your mouth!  

I go straight from that dentist to one that treated me when I was a child. He is super nice, and he helps straighten out what the other one did to me. He takes one look in my mouth and says, “When was the last time you went to a dentist?” I reply, “I just came from one.”

(This occurs about a month after my father passes away. I have been working to get various accounts closed. The one I’m having issue with is his phone carrier. Since I am not authorized to access his account, I have no luck until a monthly payment comes due. Before now, the workers wouldn’t discuss anything with me, understandably, for legal reasons. However, unknown to me, his bank account — which my name was on and has since closed — is set up to autopay to his cell phone. Therefore, I am finally able to get them cooperate with me a bit.)

Worker: “Ma’am, the payment for Mr. [Father] is due and it is [amount].”

Me: “Ma’am, I need you to listen very carefully. [Father] is dead. He died three weeks ago. I’ve been trying to close his account with you guys. I am not paying for a dead man’s account. His name is [Father]. His number was [number]. I even have his SSN and am more than willing to fax you a copy of his death certificate I am currently holding.”

(Line is silent for a few minutes.)

Worker: “Okay. Just a moment, ma’am.”

(Many more minutes go by.)

Worker: “Do you have [other service] with us?”

Me: “Ma’am, I am trying to close my deceased father’s account. To the best of my knowledge ,all he had was your phone service. Please cancel his service.”

(More minutes go by. I can hear her typing something. At one point I hear her talking and laughing with what I assume is a coworker. I am beyond frustrated by this whole ordeal, but continue to silently wait and try to be polite.)

Worker: “Okay, ma’am, it looks like I can send it back to his bank account.”

Me: “Ma’am, his bank account is closed. That is why you weren’t paid.”

Worker: *another long pause* “Looks like I can only send it back to the bank; you’ll have to talk with them.”

Me: *sighs* “All right, thank you. Is his account closed, though?”

Worker: “Yes, ma’am.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(I’m not sure what she’s talking about, so I go back to the bank and wait to speak to a banker so that I can clear this entire mess. I begin to explain the situation to him when there’s a knock on the glass. A see a young woman smiling and happily waving at him.)

Banker: “Hey, [Young Woman]!” *gets up and goes to hug and speak with her*

(I just sit there, floored by this display, but southern politeness kicks in, so instead of yelling at them I glare as hard as possible.)

Banker: *finishes talking to her then turns to see my glare* “I… s-sorry. Sh-she used to work here. She’s going to college. Uh—” *clears his throat*

Me: “How nice.” *explains the situation finally*

Banker: *types on his computer and cross-checks the account number, my ID, and my father’s death certificate a few times* “Okay, looks like everything is cleared up.”

Me: “I shouldn’t have any more issues? No more auto-payments on there?”

Banker: “Nope!” *wide smile* “And please, take this with you, should you ever want to open your own account with us.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(I tossed the pamphlets in plain view into a nearby trash-can.)

(Our store’s bathrooms are closed for renovations. However, one of our neighboring stores has allowed our customers to use their restrooms until we are finished. One day, I notice a customer trying to get into our bathrooms, despite signs clearly explaining our current situation.)

Customer: “Why the hell are your bathrooms locked?! I need to take a p**s!”

(I am a bit irritated at her sudden anger, but I try my best to remain calm and polite.)

Me: “Our restrooms are currently being renovated. However, [Store next to us] is allowing our customers to use their restroom.”

Customer: “F*** you! I need to p**s! I’m not walking all the way over there!”

Me: “Ma’am, our bathrooms are being renovated. They do not even have sinks yet. We would be happy to hold your items at the front while you go next door. It is not a very long walk.”

(We argue back and forth for several minutes. I even show her the bathrooms in an attempt to prove my point. After nearly five minutes, I manage to calm her down a bit.)

Me: “Would you like me to hold your stuff at the front?”

Customer: “No. I want to finish shopping first. I’m already over here.”

(She ended up taking some clothes into the dressing room to try a few items on. However, after a minute or two, I saw liquid leaking from under the curtain. Since there was only a curtain, not a locking door, I checked on her just to be sure. Upon opening the curtain, I was greeted by a horrible sight. She had taken off her pants and was squatting over a pile of clothes, including some of our most expensive items, and relieving herself, both #1 and #2. Even after I opened the curtain, she continued peeing at full force for nearly a minute. I was only able to stand there in disgust and horror. Upon finishing, she stood up, wiped herself with yet another article of clothing, and pulled up her pants, all while maintaining eye contact with me. I managed to call security before she left, and she ended up paying for the damage and being banned from our store, but not before she blamed our store for what had happened.)

Customer: “Do I need a key to get into the restrooms?”

Me: “No, ma’am, we leave them open.”

Customer: “Oh, well, the door is locked.”

Me: “If the door is locked then someone is in there.”

Customer: *without a second thought* “Well, since the door is locked, can I get the key?”

Me: *considering giving her the key just for the entertainment* “Did you miss the part where I said it was occupied?”

(I am visiting some former coworkers at a popular chain coffee shop. The place is empty when a woman in her late 40s to early 50s comes in and orders a drink. She pays, but then immediately goes to the bathroom, leaving the barista holding her change from a $20 for a small coffee. He then goes ahead and makes her drink so it is ready for her when she comes back. Once she goes back to the counter, my friend gives her the drink and her change, and tries to joke with her.)

Friend: “Here’s your coffee, and here’s your change, ma’am. Unless you wanted to leave all of this as a tip!” *he smiles*

Customer: “Absolutely not! Here’s a tip for you! Go to college, and then you wouldn’t have to try and swindle people like me out of their hard-earned money!”

Friend: *completely speechless as she starts to walk away*

Me: “Ma’am? I think you should apologize to him. He was joking with you and wasn’t trying to get your money. And furthermore, he is, in fact, a college teacher. He teaches a graphic design course at [Local College], so he has a couple of degrees.”

Customer: “Well, he doesn’t look like it!”

(With that, she hurried out of the store, and my friend came over to high-five me. He said she’s never been back in.)