Our pool isn’t deep enough to dive anywhere. Some young teenagers think they are too cool and need not follow the strict NO DIVING rules. I catch them.

Me: “Okay, guys, you have to sit out next time you do it.”

Of course, they think we’re stupid and blind and do it again.

Me: “That’s it. Sorry, guys, but you’re sitting out for the next ten minutes.”

Some of their parents come over, so I kindly inform them:

Me: “They’re sitting out for ten minutes, and if they do it again, we’ll have to kick them out.”

Parent: “Good for you guys. They need to learn that their actions have consequences.”

Thank the lord! Somebody is on our side! After the ten minutes are up, the FIRST thing these kids do is dive headfirst into the pool. Another lifeguard steps over to them:

Lifeguard: “I am going to have to ask you to leave the pool for the day. You dove headfirst into the pool numerous times after we already told you it was against the rules. Next time you come back, please do not dive headfirst into the pool; you could seriously injure yourself and possibly those around you.”

The lifeguard turns to the parent.

Lifeguard: “I am sorry, but your child dove headfirst again. We are going to have to ask you to leave the pool area for the day.”

Parent: *Yelling* “Are you kidding me?! I took the time to bring them here so they could enjoy the pool! You guys are making this up! My kids are good kids! They would never do that! I am never coming here again!”

They came back the very next day.

My parents assisted my elderly great-aunt (a sister of my grandmother) in her twilight years. They helped with small things at first but more and more as her ability to deal with day-to-day life decreased. This happened when she was still lucid but vulnerable.

A salesman pressured her to buy a high-security and very expensive door “as her landlord required”. Spoiler: by law, if the landlord deems it necessary, he needs to pay for it himself. The salesman deemed her an easy mark and basically bullied her into buying the door.

On the next visit, she told my parents. Of course, my dad tried to annul the sale (which, according to law, should be possible within thirty days) but the company insisted: a sale is a sale.

So, my dad wrote the ombudsman. The thing with contacting governmental departments is that it’s like throwing a pebble onto a pile and, a) nothing happens, b) a few pebbles roll down the pile, or c) there’s a complete avalanche.

Well, it wouldn’t be worth posting if it was one of the first two, would it?

Within days, the company had revenue services come by to peruse the taxes past and present. The employment office came by to check whether all employees were properly declared and all dues were paid. All sales were checked — not only whether they were on the books and all taxes paid, but also whether they were real sales or people were unduly convinced to buy.

The owner who had declared all sales final actually called my dad — who was a bit surprised by the effect of his complaint, as well.

Owner: “Was all this really necessary? We could have solved this without involving the government.”

When I worked at a little mom-and-pop pet store, it was common to have people come in remarking how they wished they could just take home ALL the animals… but one woman came in and worded that sentiment with a VERY disturbing scenario attached.

Woman: “I wish this store would catch fire so I could come and rescue all the animals and take them all home with me!”

Yikes, lady.

Out of my ten-plus years working retail and various other jobs, I have only ever had to deal with one mystery shopper, and her actions cost her the job.

For those not in the know, a mystery shopper is a person assigned by the company to make random unannounced inspections with regard to customer service and, in general, the well-being of the company employees and the store. Also, it is customary for the mystery shopper to BLEND IN with everyday customers and NOT bring attention to themselves in a way that can be misconstrued as just another obnoxious and rude customer.

This woman didn’t get that memo.

One day around lunchtime, my boss was in the back having her lunch. I was out on the shop floor and serving customers — an unusually high amount, but nothing that I couldn’t handle on my own since my coworker wasn’t going to be in later. In walked this woman.

As I was serving the queue of customers, I halfheartedly said, “Hi, welcome to [Store],” (I was hungry) while still serving and ringing through items. The woman hmphed and said under her breath:

Woman: “It’s polite to make eye contact.”

Alarm bells.

She hummed and hawed while I was making my way cautiously and correctly through the remaining customers. All the while, she was staring daggers at me, and she eventually stormed off in a huff, looking around. Like I can come away from paying customers just to help her. As the last two customers made their way to the till, she joined the queue with a whole two items, with an audible, “Oh, for f***’s sake!” The customer I was serving looked at me with a “What the actual f***?” expression and I nodded.

Not even one minute in, the woman said:

Woman: “This is f****** ridiculous!”

As I was finalizing the payment before moving on to the next customer, the till decided to freeze, and it took a few minutes for it to reboot. I made my apologies, and the customer I was serving was fine with it, along with the customer behind. They both worked in stores in the same area.

Woman: *Louder* “Oh, for f***’s sake! The service in this establishment is absolutely F****** RIDICULOUS!”

I’d had enough. With my best — but pissed-off — customer service voice and smile, I said:

Me: “Listen, as you can clearly see, I am dealing with other customers. I am the only staff member on the floor as my boss is at lunch. The till has decided to not play nice, and to be perfectly honest with you, I am well within my rights to refuse you service and ask you to leave as your attitude absolutely stinks.”

Woman: “WHAT?! YOU CAN’T TALK TO ME THAT WAY!!! DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?”

Me: “I really don’t care, to be honest. Now, I am asking you to leave.”

She stormed off in the foulest mood you ever did see.

The customer I was serving spoke up.

Customer: “Thank Christ you said something. I was ready to smack her.”

We both laughed, and I finished both services and thanked them for their patience.

My boss had finally finished her lunch at that point and had come through the front.

Boss: “Oh, I meant to say there’s going to be a mystery shopper in at some point. Don’t know who, but please be on your best behaviour.”

Oh, f***!

I quickly told her what had happened. I explained that I was busy but not so busy that I needed to involve her, and I told her the conversations as they had happened. And lo and behold, just as I was finished telling her, in walked the regional manager for the company.

Regional Manager: “[My Name], back office, NOW!”

I’m dead.

Now, knowing that the [Regional Manager] has a tendency to be a hot-head in these situations, I was s***ting bricks at this point. Thankfully, I’d had a reasonably good working relationship with him up until this point, so it really could go any way.

Regional Manager: *Unusually calm* “What happened?”

I explained EVERYTHING, from the moment the woman entered to the moment she stormed off (almost taking the door with her) and the fact that I had witnesses that worked in the immediate vicinity — the full she-bang.

Regional Manager: *Sighs, nods*” I’m finally glad that someone else has the balls to stand up to my wife.”

WHAT?! The look on my face said it all and he started to laugh.

Regional Manager: “Please, accept my apologies, and I will let [Boss] know that there are not to be any repercussions from this. And I think I’m going to let my wife know it’s time to find more suitable employment.”

Me: *Speechless, mutters* “Th.. thanks.”

He handed me a £20 gift card for the mall’s cafe and said lunch was on him. It was the best coffee and chicken/bacon club sandwich I’d ever had.

I work as a beauty therapist at a VERY upscale franchise spa in a five-star hotel. The majority of our clientele are quite well-off and/or coming for a special occasion. Most are perfectly polite, but we do get a few clients who are entitled and demanding.

It’s about an hour before closing, and I’ve just exited from cleaning one of the treatment rooms when the receptionist pulls me aside. She’s a lovely girl from Mexico.

Receptionist: “Hey, [My Name]. I’m sorry, but you’ve had a last-minute booking for a thirty-minute massage.”

Me: “Oh, really? That should be fine.”

Receptionist: “Yeah, I’m sorry. The client asked for you specifically.”

I glance into the waiting room and see the client. I’m instantly confused.

Me: “I’ve never seen him in my life. Why would he ask for me?”

Receptionist: *Looking embarrassed* “Well… he said he only wanted to be booked with an Australian therapist, so it has to be you.”

I stare at her in disbelief. My coworkers at the spa are all extremely multicultural, and I love that. We have people who are Thai, Nepalese, Mexican, Spanish, German, Japanese, Italian, etc. I am the only white Australian who works at this particular location.

Me: “What?! Are you serious?! What does that have to do with anything?”

Receptionist: “I don’t want to book him, but [Manager] said just do it. I’m really sorry. I know it’s weird.”

Me: “I can’t believe this… Okay, fine. I’ll do it. Thank God it’s only a short booking.”

I’m so stunned and angry that I have to take a minute. I don’t know what to expect with this guy or what bearing he thinks cultural background has on this, but since I’m technically the only one who meets his request, I have no choice. I prepare the room, brace myself, and go to fetch the client.

Me: “Hi, [Client]? My name’s [My Name] and I’ll be your therapist today.”

He seems pleased and follows me to the room. I check his consultation form and he gets on the massage bed. I begin the massage.

Client: “So, you’re Australian?”

I’m irritated by his bigotry, but I try to be polite.

Me: “Well, yes. I was born and raised here.”

Client: “I’m glad. I’m [Ethnicity]. You been working here long?”

Me: “I started at this company last June.”

Client: “How often do you work?”

Me: *Thinking he’s just making small talk* “I work four days a week, currently. It’s such a physical job after all.”

Client: “So, you married?”

Me: “No.”

Client: “You have a partner?”

Me: “No, not right now.”

Client: “D***! I was going to say that your husband is a lucky man. Your hands are magic! How old are you?”

Me: “Late twenties.”

Client: “How long have you been single?”

I try to end this conversation.

Me: “A while.”

Client: “You should get married. You ever been with a [Ethnicity] man like me?”

Me: “No. Did you want me to turn the music up or anything?”

Client: “No, I’m good. See, honey, you need to get with a [Ethnicity] man like me. But just so you know, you won’t be able to work when you do. You can’t be Miss Independent with them.”

Me: “…”

Client: “You have to let them be in charge. If you submit, they’ll take care of you. If you try to be your own woman, it won’t work out.”

I die a little inside.

He proceeds to lecture me throughout the rest of the treatment about how a “proper” wife should behave while asking extremely invasive questions about my dating history, which I gently rebuff.

The thirty-minute massage is agonisingly slow, but I get him out as quickly as I possibly can. My coworkers are very concerned with his odd behaviour once I tell them what he was saying. A note is put on his file that he is not to be rebooked. I go home and think that’s the end of it, but the next morning, I arrive to find the receptionist looking worried.

Receptionist: “[My Name]! Are you okay?”

Me: “Yes. What’s going on?”

Receptionist: “That weird guy from yesterday came back looking for you.”

Me: “What?!”

Receptionist: “Yeah, before we opened, he was standing outside, staring into the window. He was wondering when you started work.”

Me: *Pauses* “If he comes back today, tell him I’m not working. And if he comes back again, tell him I’ve been moved to a different spa.”

Receptionist: “If he comes back, I’m calling security. He’s crazy.”

The spa manager was horrified when she found out, and the client was promptly blacklisted for life. So far, he hasn’t returned, and I hope it stays that way!