I once was in discussion with a finance-related company that expected me to shake down customers in bad areas and do nightly cash deposits at a bank where others had recently been mugged. Their “safe” was a paper box in the office.

They changed how much I would be paid by saying I was expected to work ten to twenty hours overtime/salary wage suddenly.

Management made a point to tell me they offered free chips and sodas, and a moment later, they called an employee greedy and fat for enjoying said snacks.

I could go on.

When I decided not to take the job, I called the manager only to find out that he had gone on vacation — no supporting incoming staff — and the chick above him about lost her mind on me when I told her it wasn’t going to happen.

I’m so glad I bailed.

I’m watching a half-marathon in a small town. It’s cosy, and people keep their distance without the need for barricades. Police aren’t needed for traffic control, and cars can drive on the same road as the marathon at the same time and nothing ever happens. It’s been going like this for over twenty years now. 

Suddenly, a woman in her car drives up to one of the barricades there to give direction to the runners. She immediately drives onto the curb and is stopped by an older man, who directs the runners in the right direction. 

Woman: “I need to go over there!”

Older Man: “Excuse me, miss, but there are runners running in that street.”

Woman: “But I live there. I need to be there!”

Older Man: “I can move the barricade for you. One moment.”

Woman: “Yes, yes!”

The barricade has barely moved and the woman hits the gas. 

Older Man: “Mind the runners!”

Woman: “Yes, yes!” *Waves out of the window*

She was not going slow at all, and she almost hit the curb on the other side while evading the barricade that was being opened for her on that side. I think her waiting time was about three minutes?

I live in a trailer park that has a horseshoe-styled driveway. Due to three of us parents having children younger than ten and the fact that the driveway is extremely icy in the winter, the bus comes up the driveway to pick up all the children.

I got to be one of the luckier ones that has an indoor porch, so as a result, last year, my daughter would wait on the porch when it rained or snowed and I’d get wet by waiting for the bus so she wouldn’t. The bus driver last year didn’t mind waiting a minute for her to run down the driveway and onto the bus, as she was usually seen walking toward me. However, this one…

Me: “[Daughter]! The bus is coming!”

Daughter: “Coming, Mama!”

My daughter got as far as the front of the car, clearly seen by the driver… and the driver drove right by us. Shocked, I took her by the hand, and we rushed to the trailer next door where she was able to board the bus.

Daughter: “I was on the porch! You saw me!”

Driver: “You should have been at the end of your driveway. I don’t care if you were by the vehicle. I’m not waiting.”

Me: “Really? She was waiting on the porch so she wouldn’t get cold and wet!”

Driver: “Not my problem.”

Me: “Would you make your children wait in this downpour?”

Driver: *Pauses* “No.”

Me: “Then why the h*** should mine?! She will be waiting under a roof during rain and snow! I will not let her get cold and wet just because you think you’re in a d*** race!”

During this, another parent had rushed her children toward the bus as it had been done to her, as well. Their trailer was off the horseshoe part of the drive and further in the back, and her children were even younger.

Parent: “Man, if you weren’t giving her grief, we would have missed the bus.”

Me: “You can wait two seconds for my child to walk from the porch to the end of the drive. Don’t ignore her again! I will report you!”

She turned away from me angrily as the other two children boarded the bus. When the doors shut, she looked like she was about to take off angrily.

Me: “YOU HIT THAT GAS AND SEND THEM KIDS FLYING, I’LL HAVE YOUR A**!”

She slowly pulled away, clearly angry at being called out. I turned to the other parent, who was laughing.

Parent: “She does it to us, too. She’ll see my youngest running fast as he possibly can and then take off.”

Me: “I get the feeling she’s not gonna last the entire year. I wish the other driver was back.”

I normally don’t confront, but when it comes to my child, apparently, I have a disappearing backbone.

My husband and I stopped at a beer distributor that offers a “pick six” option where you can mix and match beers for the same price as a six-pack. While we were debating which new beers to try, a younger couple came in. The girl pushed me out of the way to get to a particular beer.

Me: “Um, excuse you.”

Girl: “You were in my way.”

Me: “And grownups say, ‘Excuse me,’ when that happens.”

The girl rolled her eyes and kept stepping in front of me every time I moved. Her boyfriend laughed and encouraged her. Finally, I told my husband I’d had enough and just wanted to go. We took our beer to the register, which had two sides to approach but only one cashier.

Cashier: “Hi, guys, did you find everything today?”

Me: “Ah, I guess.”

Cashier: “You guess?”

The other couple approached the register on the other side, behind the cashier.

Husband: “It’s not your fault. There was a rude customer.”

He subtly gestured to the couple. The cashier looked behind her and then back to us.

Cashier: “Would you like me to go get you anything in particular? It’ll only take a second.”

Me: “No, that’s okay. Thank you.”

The cashier proceeded to ring us out. I glanced over at the younger couple and saw the girl sliding sixteen-ounce cans of beer up her coat sleeve while her companion stuffed a bunch of lollipops in his pockets. I’m not one for confrontation, but I’d had enough.

Me: “Hey!”

Guy: “What?”

Me: “How much are those?”

Girl: “How much are what?” *To her companion* “Babe, don’t even answer.”

Husband: “Excuse me? You jus—”

Me: “It’s okay, my mistake.” *To the cashier* “I thought, with the way he’s filling his pockets with those lollipops, they might be free.”

The cashier spun around to see two horrified young faces.

Girl: “You lying c***!”

Guy: “Yo, f*** you, b****!” *To the cashier* “You gonna let her talk to us like that?”

Cashier: “Certainly not, but since I can see the lollipops sticking out of your pocket and your girlfriend’s arms have grown considerably since you came in, I’m going to have to ask you to step aside and wait for the police to resolve this.”

I never found out what happened to them, but I like to pretend justice was served and they learned their lesson. Probably not, but I can dream, right?

I work in the shoe department of a department store. It’s eight minutes past the time for me to go home. A customer is standing by the stockroom door, clearly waiting to be helped. My coworker assists her as I get ready to leave and heads off with a smile, making a little joke to the woman and laughing.

This coworker is busy grabbing shoes for two people now because it’s a busy Saturday and all employees have to take multiple customers at a time, or we wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Then, I hear a noise and recognize it instantly as the warning call (cough) of an entitled customer.

Customer: “Ha-hemmm.”

It’s the customer from before, still right outside the stockroom door. I ignore her. I, glorious thing of glorious things, am going home! The customer is being helped. I am in the back in a matter of seconds. She doesn’t need me. But I can hear her, and she can hear me. The rabid customer knows her prey is close.

Customer: *Clears her throat again* “Ha-HEMMMM.”

Figuring she is in desperate need of something at this point, I go outside with a smile, figuring I can always run and grab my coworker if she needs an additional shoe.

Me: “Hello! Did you need something?” 

Customer: “Yes, I would like to know what is going on!”

Me: *Blank-faced and innocent* “Going on with what?”

Customer: “With my shoes! I gave someone a shoe to grab, and I want to know what’s going on!”

Me: “Well, ma’am, she’s grabbing your shoe now. She just got into the back, so give her a minute, and she’ll be back.”

I then go into the back, assuming that will be enough to pacify the woman who clearly wants special attention. Obviously, we all have stupid moments in life, and this is mine. From outside the stockroom door, I hear another coworker walk straight into the jowls of the customer, who instantly closes the trap.

Customer: *To [Coworker #2]* “Excuuuuuse me! What is going on with my shoe?!”

[Coworker #2] has no idea what has been going on or that [Coworker #1] just got the shoe from this woman and it has been less than a minute.

Coworker #2: “Was someone helping you?”

Customer: “Yes, and I’d like to know what is going on!”

Coworker #2: “All right, let me find out for you.”

They walk into the back, befuddled. I explain that [Coworker #1] just went to get the shoe and is coming before they ask, but then, as I’m explaining this, what should I hear but the customer stopping TWO MORE of my coworkers. They go into the back and start shouting for [Coworker #1] before I can stop them. I start redirecting my coworkers to go out of the other stockroom door while I do my closing duties so they don’t have to endure this mass of crazy entitlement.

Then, the customer walks boldly into the back and around the corner. I hear footsteps and think it is a coworker, until…

Customer: “EXCUUUUSE ME!”

I freeze in disbelief and slowly turn, like a deer into an oncoming car. I just can’t look away.

Me: “Ma’am, you can’t be back here.”

Customer: “But I want to know what is going on with my shoe!”

Me: “I already told you that my coworker is grabbing it. It’s our busiest day, so you’re going to need to give her a minute. Go sit outside and she will come to find you, but you can’t be back here!”

She leaves, only to continue her tirade outside of the stockroom door. My coworkers, now wiser, ignore her. Then, she pulls this gem and starts shouting right outside the door.

Customer: “I CHECKED MY TIMER, AND I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES!”

It has not even been five minutes. Because she isn’t receiving what she considers her proper attention, she is now lying to get my coworker in trouble. I leave the stockroom, vengeance in mind.

Customer: “I’ve been wait—”

Me: “Ma’am, I had this discussion with you. My coworker is grabbing the shoe.”

Customer: “But I’ve been wait—”

Me: “I heard you, and you haven’t been waiting twenty-five minutes. I’ve been here this whole time. I was right beside my coworker when she grabbed the shoe from you. She’s been back there less than five minutes. You have not been waiting for twenty-five. Sit down and give her some more time. We’re very busy today.”

Customer: “I checked my timer, and it’s been twenty-five minutes!”

Me: “Ma’am, I also checked my manager’s clock before I went into the back. I needed to in order to finish my shift. Both my manager and I know exactly what time it was when my coworker came into the back because we all walked back here together. It was 6:38. You’re telling me that if I go check the clock, it’s going to be past seven?”

She doesn’t have anything to say to that, so she falls silent and turns away. I figure I have defeated the beast and go into the back, only to hear:

Customer: “I’VE BEEN WAITING TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES!”

I’m hoping she was just having a bad day.