(My family is visiting the pizza counter while at a game center for my work-sponsored “family night.” As part of the deal, we were each given a coupon for a drink and two slices of pizza. We are a family of three.)

Me: “I have these coupons; I’d like four cheese pizza slices and two pepperoni.”

Clerk: “You want… What?”

Me: “Four cheese slices and two pepperoni.”

Clerk: “But the coupon is for two slices.”

Me: “We have three coupons.” *shows them*

Clerk: “But you can’t have four cheese; the coupon is for two.”

Me: “Okay, then I’ll have two cheese, two cheese, and two pepperoni.”

Clerk: “Great! I’ll get that for you!”

(I recently started working at an arcade over the summer and this is my first time answering the phone.)

Me: “Hi, this is [Arcade]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Do you have arcade machines?”

Me: “Well, yes, we are an arcade.”

Caller: “Do you accept food stamps?”

Me: “Uh, no, we are not allowed to accept food stamps.”

Caller: “Please, I am begging you.”

Me: “We can’t do that.”

Caller: “I am on my knees here, please.”

Me: “I am sorry we cannot do that; it is illegal.”

Caller: “My welfare check came in and my grandfather really wants to come and play some checkers and remember his youth.”

Me: “Unfortunately, we do not have checkers, and we still cannot accept food stamps.”

Caller: “You don’t have checkers?! Can you draw some lines and let us play anyway?”

Me: “No, I cannot.”

Caller: “I will pay you. Food stamps are really nice.”

Me: “Sorry.”

Caller: “What color is your hair?”

Me: “I am sorry; I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

Caller: *hangs up*

(Yeah, I don’t know what happened, but I am not sure if I ever want to answer that phone again.)

(When I am in college, I work at an arcade for a while. I usually work the later shift in order to accommodate my school schedule. That usually means that I close alone. We have a policy: all tickets must be exchanged no later than ten minutes before closing, and “last game” needs to be started by five minutes to closing. We usually go around and give people warnings at 45, 30, 20, 10, and 5 minutes so they’ll have a heads-up. On this night, these two women come in with a bunch of kids about two hours before closing and I spent most of the time I usually spend doing cleaning, inventory, etc., chasing said kids because the women are too busy playing basketball.)

Me: *two of the kids are climbing the front of one of the games* “Hey, guys, could you please get down? Those aren’t meant for climbing and I’d hate for you to hurt yourselves.”

Woman #1: “Don’t talk to them like that!”

Me: “Ma’am, your kids can’t climb on the games. It’s a safety hazard.”

(She glares at me, but the kids get down. About fifteen minutes later, I’m taking care of some issues near the front of the store.)

Woman #2: “[One of the Kids] is missing! What did you do with him?”

Me: “What? I haven’t done anything with him.”

Woman #1: “Well, where is he?”

Me: “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.”

Woman #1: “Did he walk by here?”

Me: *shakes head* “I haven’t seen him.”

Woman #2: “Then where is he?!”

Me: “I don’t know, but let me go see what I can do.”

(I head back towards the storage room thinking I’ll call security and ask them to come help search. As I pass the prize counter, I hear something so I duck around. Guess who I find digging through the prizes?)

Me: “Hey, buddy, people are looking for you.”

(This kid is probably two so I grab him and carry him to the women.)

Me: “I found him behind my counter.”

Woman #2: *snatches him from my hands and hands him off to one of the other kids* “Why weren’t you watching him? Come on; we’re leaving!”

(The kids whine and scream and she finally relents. Somehow, considering [Woman #1] is still playing basketball, I didn’t think they were going to leave. I continue with things and then it gets to be time for closing. I’ve given them all the other notices and it’s coming up on the ten-minute time frame. I walk over to the basketball game the women are playing.)

Me: “Just wanted to let you know that we’ve got about ten minutes to closing. If you have any tickets you’d like exchanged, you need to do so now.”

(Both women ignore me. They do the same when I give them the five-minute warning.)

Me: “Hey, it’s time for me to close.”

Woman #1: “I’m almost done. I need to finish.”

(She’s not looking at me as she continues to shoot, so I just let her finish. It isn’t a fight I want to have, anyway. I do everything I can in order to close with them still in the arcade, but then I end up waiting back behind the counter. She finally finishes after starting another game — she didn’t think I’d notice, but I did — and comes up to the counter with tickets.)

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t exchange those.”

Woman #2: “What the h*** do you mean?”

Me: “It’s after closing; I can’t exchange tickets.”

Woman #2: “Well, nobody told us that!”

Me: “I did. I gave you several notices that I was closing and that you needed to exchange your tickets. If you don’t want to take all those tickets home with you, you can put them in the ticket counter and get a receipt that you can bring back with you next time.”

Woman #1: *sighs in disgust but grabs the tickets and goes to the counter*

(She gets her tickets counted and comes back, and places the receipt on the counter.)

Woman #1: “There. Now do your job.”

(While she was counting tickets, I’d left the counter with my closing stick to pull the grate down and am now standing about halfway between the door and the counter.)

Me: “I still can’t give you prizes. It’s after closing and I need to lock up. You can bring the receipt back with you next time you come, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Woman #1: *explodes* “Why in the h*** would I come back? You’ve treated us horribly and you never told us that we needed to exchange these tickets before closing!”

Me: “Yes, I did. I told you several times. I did you a favor by letting you finish the game you’d started, but I know you started another one after that.”

Woman #2: “How dare you?! She did not!”

Me: “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Woman #1: “Why won’t you exchange our tickets?”

Me: “Because it’s almost twenty minutes after closing, I have to lock up, and I gave you several warnings that you needed to exchange your tickets and that we were closing. Now, please leave before I call security.”

Woman #1: “B****, you’d better not be threatening to call security!”

(She starts ranting and raving and throwing her arms in the air, but she does start to leave. [Woman #2] and all of the kids start to follow, with me pulling up the rear. One of the kids gives me this disgusted look.)

Kid: “You’re a mean b**** and you should give me a prize!”

Me: “It’s not nice to look at people like that or to call people names like that.”

Woman #2: *rounds on me as [Woman #1] comes back into the arcade* “Don’t you dare speak to my daughter like that, you dumb b****! Where’s your car? I’ll meet you out in the parking lot as soon as you finish work!”

Me: “If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling security!”

Woman #1: “Go ahead, b****! Call security!”

(I turned on my heel and headed for the back storage room where the phone was, fully intending to call security. But the whole thing had me shaking and when I got back, I was trembling so hard and I honestly felt like crying. I had to take a few deep breaths to get my shaking and the urge to cry under control. By the time that happened, the women had left. I finished my closing tasks and went home. As far as I know, they never came back.)

(I work at an arcade with batting cages, and we have a play park. Everyone who goes into the play park must purchase a wristband. We send staff periodically to check and make sure no one has snuck in. I also run the Facebook page, and I receive this message, which is a screenshot of a review he made a couple of days ago.)

Customer: “Worst f****** experience ever! We went there so my son could get some practice hitting. As he finished up, he wanted to play in the arcade and in the ball pit, which was all fine and good. Well, he was playing in the ball pit, and some teenagers who were playing in there at the same time but had no business being in there were horse playing and they hit him in the eye. No one apologized about it, and they all scattered like roaches when the kitchen light comes on. Then, furthermore, while we went in there playing with our kids — eight and almost a year old — we were told we have to leave because we didn’t have wristbands and we weren’t supposed to be in there. I felt that my character was discriminated against that night, and believe me, we will not, and I repeat not be coming back!”

Me: “Hi, [Customer], I’m sorry you had a bad experience Sunday. I don’t know how the review evaded my sight, as I usually see every one that appears. So, thank you for bringing it to my attention. However, while you are right that the teenagers had no business being in there, I honestly have to say you had no right to be in there, either, since you did not purchase a wristband to be in there. It wasn’t your character that was being discriminated against; we kick everyone out who has not purchased a wristband.”

Customer: “That’s not the point. The point of the matter is that nothing was done about it until we got there, and the people there were choosing sides because you believe what people tell you. It was basically black against white, but we definitely are not coming back to that h***-hole.”

Me: “Okay, maybe I’m not understanding what the problem here is. Did you tell our staff that there were teenagers roughhousing in the Play Park and nothing was done? Or is it that you were kicked out of the Play Park because you did not purchase wristbands, or something else?”

(The customer doesn’t respond after that. But my favorite part is what other customers commented on his review.)

Customer #1: “Sounds like you should be more upset with the teenagers than the place.”

Customer #2: “Right. You’re giving this place a bad rating for other people’s actions, and for the fact that you obviously missed the sign that clearly states you need a wristband to play in the ball pit area.”

Customer #3: “Good sports are not for weak-minded cry-babies.”

Customer #4: “You should have stepped up as his father and said something to the teenagers. Whenever my autistic son is in there, if other children’s parents are not enforcing their child to play according to the rules, with my son in the ball pit, I will not hesitate to politely tell the kids to calm down, play nice, and remember that not everyone is the same age, and you have to be cautious of the little ones. I have never had an issue with other parents getting angry or at all upset with me for going out of my way to ensure my son’s safety from kids that are playing too rough in the ball pit area. And yes, it clearly states on the entrance to the soft play area the price; it was your ignorance that had your son removed, not the employees of [Company] treating you any different from any other customer. Perhaps you should pay more attention to small details clearly posted in locations you attend.”

(I am the manager at an arcade and it is currently our slow season, so we get a lot of groups of people with special needs during this time. All of the groups are awesome, with the exception of this one particular group. I’m in the office when I hear the backroom door open and shut but no one comes on camera. I hear the counselor talking with one of the people with special needs. By the time I go to the door, they are gone. A couple minutes later, my coworker calls me from the snack bar.)

Coworker: “Uh, did you tell one of them they could vacuum?”

Me: “Um, no… Why?”

Coworker: “One of them has the vacuum and is vacuuming.”

Me: “What? Why? Okay, I’m on my way down.”

(I can see the person on camera vacuuming the floor, with the counselor watching him and doing nothing about it. I go down there, and the counselor goes and “fake hides” by the counter, thinking everything is funny.)

Me: *unplugs the vacuum* “Hey, you can’t go in the back room and just take stuff and start using it. Let me have that.” *storms off to the back*

(I run into my coworker.)

Me: “That counselor needs a counselor!”