I work at the front desk of a hotel. The hotel is pretty upscale and sits on a marina. A happy couple checked in the night before their wedding, and I just knew they’d be a handful, but I still seriously underestimated them.

On the first night (wedding eve), they kept calling for maintenance because they couldn’t get the fireplace to turn on or the jets in the tub to work. (It turned out that the trick was to press “on”.) Then, the complaints of loud sex start rolling in, followed by complaints of heated arguing.

We all survived night one. The wedding day was here. They got married on a boat with mainly the groom’s family on board. The bride got so drunk that they literally ditched her a** at the marina. One of the dock hands found her, eighties dress and all, wandering the boat slips.

We sent security to help her, but they couldn’t find her. While they were searching, she stumbled into the lobby bare-footed, losing her s***, grabbing every guest who had the misfortune of walking by, and sobbing to them. She nearly ruined a guest’s Versace suit crying on his arm (unsolicited and very awkwardly). Luckily, he was a good sport.

Before security could make it back, the groom showed up. They proceed to have a public argument and make-up (with plenty of PDA) for all to see.

Security finally rescued me and got them to their room. The last of the fun was more noise complaints of loud sex and arguing. Security pretty much had to set up camp on their floor.

I’m sure they’re still happily married to this day.

Via the cameras, I spot a customer taking a pair of sunglasses and sneaking them into their handbag. I wait at the checkouts to give them the benefit of the doubt, but sadly, they walk straight through without paying.

Me: “Ma’am, can I see what you have in your bag, please?”

Customer: “I have social anxiety!”

Me: “I understand. I just need to quickly look in your bag.”

Customer: “No! Your behavior is very triggering for me right now! You’re bringing up a lot of trauma!”

Me: “That’s not my intention, ma’am. I just need to quickly look in your bag.” 

Customer: “Why are you targeting me? Is it because I’m neurodivergent? Oh, my God, are you being ableist right now? So sad. You should do better.”

Me: “Ma’am, I am not trying to do anything else — literally anything else — other than look in your bag.” 

Customer: “Don’t call me ‘ma’am’! I’m non-binary! That’s offensive! Your language is very triggering!”

Me: “I apologize. But I still need to check your bag.” 

Customer: “But why?”

Me: “To be perfectly honest, because our camera caught you putting a pair of unpaid-for sunglasses into your bag, and I need to confiscate them.”

Customer: “Oh, my God! You were watching me?! Are you a creep? Is [Store] run by perverts?!”

Me: “Ma’am, please, just—”

Customer: “I’m non-binary!“

Me: “…Please just return the sunglasses. You’re lucky I am not calling the police and that I am simply asking for them back. Give them back, and we can both just walk away from this conversation.”

Customer: “You want to call the police?! You want them to shoot me?! I’m one-sixteenth Native, and they shoot people like me! Why are you being so racist?!”

Me: “Okay, I am done with you.” 

I motioned the security guys over, who kept them cornered until the police arrived. The police managed to get them to take the stolen sunglasses out of their bag — after the same run-around of social anxiety, trauma, ableism accusations, misgendering accusations, pervert accusations, and finally, racism accusations, in the exact same order. And then, the police escorted them out, not because they had stolen from us, but because we could all smell the alcohol on them and they had driven here.

It’s late evening, and a woman comes into our lobby from the pool with three children and gestures angrily to the pool area.

Woman: “You guys need to do something about what’s going on out there!”

I look at her inquisitively.

Woman: “Go look; you’ll see.”

I walk outside, and it’s pretty immediately clear a couple in the hot tub are “discreetly” having sex.

I approach just enough to get their attention. 

Me: “Hi, guys. I know everyone’s here to have a good time tonight, but we got a complaint about some hot and heavy activity in the hot tub.”

They’re clearly intoxicated, but they apologize and say it will stop.

A few minutes later, the phone rings. It’s the woman who complained before, calling from her room which faces the pool.

Woman: “They’re still at it. You need to do something. Children are staying in this hotel!”

I go back outside and, sure enough, now that the spectators are gone, the couple is f****** it out in the hot tub.

I go back out and tell them to get out. They start giving me the story.

Guest: “It’s our anniversary! We’re very sorry. You won’t have any more problems with us!”

I foolishly let them stay in the hot tub. Ten minutes later, the phone rings.

Woman: “Seriously?!”

It’s the same lady. I look out the window; both guests in the hot tub totally naked.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’ve warned them. I’m calling the police.” 

The police arrive and head out to the pool. The officer handles it like a pro. He’s very nice, and he lets them know that it’s inappropriate. He doesn’t want to ruin what’s clearly a fun weekend for them both, but they need to go to their room and not come out for the rest of the night. They are to stay in their room until tomorrow morning. No excuses.

The couple thanks him for his understanding, and they promise they’ll behave and stay in their room.

The officer and I wind up chatting and laughing about it all, and he asks if he can grab a cup of coffee in our lobby while he fills out his report. Of course, he can.

He’s sitting in the lobby, I’m back to work, and I hear him say:

Officer: “Oh, you’ve got to be f****** kidding me!” 

I was shocked at the broken quietness as I saw him jump up, exit the lobby… and head right to the hot tub, where the same couple was back in the hot tub making out. I can only assume they took the stairs at the end of the hall out to the parking lot and around to the pool.

He arrested them both. They came back Monday afternoon (they were arrested on Friday night) to collect their property.

While working for a government-owned liquor store (yay, monopoly!) in Sweden, I had a customer approach me.

Me: “Hi, how can I help you today?” 

Customer: “Hello, I am looking for a non-alcoholic red wine containing antioxidants.”

Me: “I’m sorry, a non-alcoholic red wine containing antioxidants? I don’t think I’ve heard of that particular combination before.”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, it doesn’t ring any bells for me, either. Are you sure this is something we currently offer?”

Customer: “Look!” 

The customer shows me her phone.

Customer: “Here is an article describing this wine and how it’s available at [Store]!”

We go through our and other stores’ inventory and check the customer’s online article while finding zero matches.

Me: “Well, ma’am, since this article is from 2015, and it’s currently 2024, I will have to assume this particular wine is no longer available for sale, and unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”

 Customer: “But how is it possible that it’s no longer for sale if I can find articles about this wine?”

 Me: “Ma’am, the article is out of date, and that’s why the product is no longer available.”

 Customer: “But I could find the article about the product, so I should still be able to buy it… This is terrible customer service!”

Cue mental breakdown.

My coworker and I are in a meeting room, waiting for the other meeting attendees to arrive.

Me: “Just to let you know, I’m taking next Monday off.”

Coworker: “Oh?”

Me: “Yes, it’s my wedding anniversary on Sunday, and my husband and I always celebrate with a big bottle of champagne. I’m anticipating being a bit worse-for-wear on Monday morning—” *laughs self-deprecatingly* “—so I decided it’d be best if I didn’t work that day.”

Coworker: “Is that so?”

She screws up her face as if she’s sucked a lemon.

Coworker: “And here I didn’t know that you were a drinker.”

Me: *Slightly stunned* “Uh… I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but I do enjoy a drink every now and again, yes.”

She looks me up and down, lips pursed.

Coworker: “Hmm. You hide it well, I’ll give you that.”

Me: “…”

That coworker was always cold to me after that. I’m pretty sure that she thought I had a bottle of Scotch hidden in my desk or something.