(We have very strict rules on height requirements for our bigger rides that often create a problem with guests that are close to but not meeting the requirement, so much so that I bought myself a level out of my own pocket to get the most exact measurements possible.)

Me: “I’m afraid your son is about an inch away and will not be able to ride, but he does meet the requirements for most of the other rides.”

Customer: “You’re kidding me. This is f***ing ridiculous.”

Me: “I’m very sorry but it is a safety requirement.”

Customer: “Well, we JUST went to the doctor and the doctors said he was 56″ inches.”

Me: “Oh, my, it sounds like your doctor may have been eyeballing it a little, or taking a guess.”

Customer: “No, he’s doctor! He was doing doctor things! He said he was tall enough.”

Me: “Well, despite that we do have to go off of the measurements on our signs.”

Customer: “You have ruined his birthday! His whole birthday is ruined! We’re going someplace else.”

(The guest stormed off out the doors while giving me the evil eye the entire time. Once she was gone I turned to my coworkers and mimed shooting myself in the head with my level.)

(During the Halloween season, my local amusement park turns into a “haunted” park. It’s great fun with multiple attractions, one of which is a very slow ride on tracks through an “old abandoned chemical factory.” Completely in the dark, at different points in the ride, people dressed as monsters pop out and say scary things or go “boo” or whatever. My friend and her husband are riding, and my friend HATES clowns.)

Friend: “If something jumps out at me, I’m going to scream!”

Friend’s Husband: “Well, that’s kind of the point of a haunted house–”

(Suddenly, a worker dressed as a creepy zombie clown pops up out of nowhere and starts following the car.)

Creepy Clown: “BOO!”

Friend: *screams*

Friend’s Husband: “Oh, come on, that wasn’t even that scary— Wait. Don’t I know you? [Clown’s Real Name], is that you?!”

Creepy Clown: *straightens posture and smiles* “Oh, hey, dude! Haven’t seen you since high school! What’s up?!”

Friend’s Husband: “Nothing much, just figured we’d stop by here on my day off. Nice weather for it.”

Creepy Clown: “Isn’t it, though? Well, hope you have fun!”

Friend’s Husband: “Thanks, dude! See ya!”

Creepy Clown: “See ya later!” *goes back to creepy posture and voice, then turns toward my still-cowering friend* “BOO! I’ll see you later, as wellllll!” *laughs evilly and then runs off*

Friend’s Husband: * bursts into laughter*

Friend: “I HATE YOU ALL!”

This story is part of our Haunted Houses roundup!

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(I am working weekends at a popular amusement park in one of the haunted houses. My scare is to run out of the shadows and strike a wall while screaming whatever I want, within reason.)

Me: *striking the wall* “YOU’LL BE ONE OF US SOON!”

(The girl at the front of the group screams and I hear a familiar laugh. As I reach my reset position, I realize that she is being held back by a kid I’ve known his entire life. So I decide to do a second scare.)

Me: *striking the wall again* “DON’T LAUGH,  [FRIEND’S NICKNAME]! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!”

(He screamed and bolted through the rest of the maze.)

This story is part of our Haunted Houses roundup!

Read the next Haunted Houses roundup story!

Read the Haunted Houses roundup!

(I am working in a haunted house at a popular amusement park. The room I work has two wooden walls with bars. The people working the room run out from the shadows, striking the walls and screaming. We are supposed to be vampires, and are allowed to say anything with a few exceptions. For example, the only people allowed to make any references to eating the guests are the people in the kitchen area. Tonight I am working with a new girl who does not know that.)

New Girl: “JUST A LITTLE NIBBLE!”

Guest #1: “DA F**** SHE JUST SAY?”

Guest #2: “DID SHE JUST SAY ‘JUST A LITTLE N*****?’ OOOH, I AM GONNA KICK SOMEBODY’S A** OVER THIS!”

(The two girls continue on ranting about the racist vampire, my coworker standing with a shocked expression.)

Me: “And now you understand why [Stage Manager] said phrases like that are only allowed in the kitchen.”

New Girl: “Yeah… not saying THAT again.”

Sign In Break Room: *week #1* “YOUR MOMMY DOESN’T WORK HERE. CLEAN UP YOUR OWN TRASH AND DISHES PLEASE!”

(The next week a sharpie-scribbled message has appeared on the sign in the break room:)

Sign In Break Room: *week #2* “ACTUALLY, MY MOMMY DOES WORK HERE.”

(Rumors circulate among the employees, and are confirmed, that one of the new ride attendants this summer is the teenage son of a longstanding member of the HR building’s cleaning staff.)

New Sign In Break Room: *week #3* “EVEN IF YOUR MOMMY WORKS HERE, SHE’S NOT GETTING PAID ENOUGH TO CLEAN UP AFTER YOU. PLEASE DUMP YOUR OWN TRASH AND WASH YOUR DISHES. THANKS. :-)”