As a teenager, many years ago, my favourite book was Interview With The Vampire by Anne Rice. What can I say? I was very much into the Emo Vampires back then.

My best friend asked to borrow it, as she was curious because of how often I spoke about it. Normally, I didn’t like loaning out books as I’m very particular about them and didn’t like to risk them being damaged, but as I said, this was my best friend, so I agreed and brought the book into school the next day to loan to her.

A few weeks went by and I asked her how she was getting on with the book, what she thought, etc. She told me she’d gotten about halfway through, but her little sister had gotten her hands on it and drawn all over the pages, so she threw it out. She then asked me when I’d buy another copy and if she could finish it when I did.

I told her she should be buying me a new copy. She said it wasn’t her fault her sister had ruined it and she wasn’t going to pay for it.

We aren’t friends anymore.

Most of the guests at our hotel are businessmen. The guys from this particular company have been staying at our hotel for a while, and I get along very well with a few of them.

One evening, probably around five, after my managers have left, three guys from that company come down and ask to buy beers and snacks. I sell the first two guys their beers and snacks no problem. I can’t remember exactly what the third guy says, but it makes me mad, and I can tell he is already drunk, so I refuse to sell him alcohol. In the state I live in, it’s illegal to sell alcohol to intoxicated people, so I use that as my excuse. He does not like this.

Guest: “You racist b****!”

Then he starts yelling at me.

Me: “Please go back to your room.”

But he isn’t leaving. Luckily, his two coworkers are still there and take him out of the lobby. He goes back to his room and it is over, or so I think.

I get a call from his manager, who I know, asking what happened. I guess one of his coworkers called and told him about the incident. I explain what happened.

Me: “[Guest] will not be allowed in the lobby if he’s going to be drunk and disrespectful.”

Manager: “I’m very sorry for his behavior. I’ll get him on a new assignment, and he’ll be leaving later this week. If anything else happens, call me.”

Me: “All right, sounds good to me.”

About thirty minutes later, the guest comes back down, yelling at me about how his manager called him and is making him leave. He then pulls out his phone and starts to record me on Facebook Live.

Guest: “This employee won’t sell me alcohol because she’s a racist b****!”

He then goes into the shop and, on video, steals beer from the cooler.

Guest: “I’m going to get you fired!”

And he starts screaming at me again. Unfortunately, his coworkers aren’t in the lobby, so all I can do is tell him to go back to his room, which he eventually does.

I look up the guests’ reservations and call the number on file for the manager I talked to earlier to tell him what happened. I get a voicemail for who I think is his other manager; I know him, as well. I leave a voicemail explaining what happened, and he calls me back almost immediately. I find out that he’s actually the manager of the company.

Owner: “I’m sorry. Since it’s late, I can’t get him a flight to leave tonight, but he has a flight out of here first thing in the morning.”

A few days went by, and I got a phone call, and it was from the Human Resources team of their company. I explained the situation and they apologized. I then got a call from their risk management team, and they apologized. The next time I was at work, all of the managers, owner, and employees came and apologized. The guy got fired, and every person in the company had to have harassment and sexual harassment class.

A mother and her bride-to-be daughter were in to look at the wedding cake they’d ordered for the wedding that was scheduled in two days. Seeing a cake on the counter, the bride started ranting and raving about how this cake was wrong and it wasn’t at all what she ordered. She then proceeded to smash the cake with her fists.

Well, she was right. It was nothing like she ordered. It was what another couple had ordered for their wedding.

The police let her clean her hands before they put on the handcuffs.

For my sins, sometimes I have done seasonal work for Royal Mail. The first time was the most eventful. Several of us were assigned to push heavy trolleys called Yorks. These can weigh up to a quarter of a ton. For someone who had applied for seasonal work, one such coworker didn’t seem very hardworking or focused.

One evening, I was pushing a York cheerfully along. (I was cheerful. The York wasn’t, due to being an inanimate object.) Suddenly, I felt a pain in my foot. Recoiling in shock, I turned to see [Coworker] reversing his own York from where he had just hit me, before pushing past me at high speed.

Coworker: “Sorry!”

Apparently annoyed that I did not tell him, “That’s all right,” within about three seconds, he shouted again.

Coworker: “I said I was sorry!”

And then, he disappeared elsewhere in the building.

People pushing things weighing half a ton are trained to keep two metres’ distance from the person in front for reasons which are blindingly obvious. They are also not supposed to move such things fast enough to risk wheelies, as the damage caused by one landing on you is even greater than the damage caused by one being driven into you.

Once I had time to assess what had happened, I concluded that I could walk normally with a bit of care. I delivered my cargo and then went to speak to a manager. The coworker arrived before I had finished reporting the issue and immediately started yelling.

Coworker: “I told you I was sorry! Are you trying to start something?”

Apparently, he didn’t realize that it is possible to see the need to report a careless accident without thinking that the culprit was malicious. When he started advancing toward me with his arms flung wide, I was rapidly bundled away before things escalated. A few minutes later, I was seen by a first aider, who expressed amazement that my foot hadn’t been broken.

In due course, I was informed that the culprit had been escorted off the site by four burly postmen and informed that if he showed his face there again the police would be called. There were concerns that he might try to track me down, but thankfully, nothing happened.

My store opens at 9:00 am, but the staff is there early to do opening tasks. We have staggered shifts so not everyone comes and goes at once; the front door is not locked so that the staff can come in when they arrive, but the automatic sensor is turned off. Most of our customers know that if the automatic sliding door doesn’t open, we aren’t open.

We are in our morning meeting when there is a loud knock at the door. We all look to see a man standing outside. The store manager goes to the door but does not open it.

Store Manager: “Hi, can I help you?”

Customer: “What are you doing?”

Store Manager: “Just having our morning meeting. The store doesn’t—”

Customer: “Why is this locked?”

Store Manager: “We don’t actually open for another hour.”

Customer: “I hate this store anyway.” *Stomps off*

Store Manager: *To the team* “Okay, so… back to business.”

Half an hour later, we are doing our opening tasks when the same man walks up behind me.

Customer: “Hey!”

He pokes me twice in the lower back as he speaks. Startled, I drop a glass jar.

Me: “Oh f—” *realizing he’s a customer* “—fffffudge.”

Customer: “Where is everyone?”

Me: *Looking at my watch* “Sir, we don’t open for another half-hour.”

Customer: “Meet me at the checkout.” *Walks away*

I walk off to find my manager in the office.

Me: “Hey, that guy you turned away is back.”

Store Manager: “Tell him we don’t open until nine.”

Me: “Yeah, he’s in the store. He came up behind me and I dropped a glass bottle, which I have to clean up, too.”

Store Manager: *Frustrated sigh* “Why did you let him in?”

Me: “I didn’t.”

Store Manager: “Well… fine. I’ll open a register early, but you can take care of him.”

Me: *Knowing how this will go* “Thanks.”

I clean up the broken glass and meet the man at the register. He has a single small jar of mayonnaise in his hand.

Customer: “Took you long enough.”

Me: “I had to clean up the glass I dropped when you poked me.”

Customer: *Shrugs* “You were no help anyway.”

Me: “Well, sir, as I said, we open at nine.”

Customer: “Then why were the doors open?”

Me: “To allow our staff to come in.”

Customer: “Stupid.”

Me: “Okay. Your total is $2.12.”

He hands me a $100 bill.

Me: “I can’t break that, I’m sorry.”

Customer: “You can and you will. It’s your job.”

Me: *Frustrated* “We aren’t even open yet and you’re trying to give me a $100 bill for a $2 sale? No, I’m not dealing with this.”

We stare at each other for a moment before he puts the bill away.

Customer: “F*** you.”

He left without the mayonnaise.

He called the store later that day to make a complaint, claiming I opened the door for him and harassed him. The store manager checked the video and saw that he’d pried the doors open himself and walked up to me. I didn’t get in trouble for talking to him that way, but we did change the policy to locking the front door before opening. Now one of us has to stop what we’re doing when team members knock, but at least customers can’t let themselves in.