You Won’t Sleep Well Tonight

, , , , , , , | Related | December 29, 2017

(Previously, my sister and I got into a fight. It was really bad, and she left shortly after to return to her boarding school, so we never reconciled. Now it is Christmas Day. By the way, I am around thirteen.)

Me: *eagerly opening a gift* “Ooh! This one’s from Grandma!”

Me: *begins tearing the wrapping to reveal* “…a singing sleepy-time Minion?”

(The Minion was one of those toys that sings a lullaby and comes with a nightlight to make kids less scared of the dark. Also, I despise Minions. Both of my sisters burst out laughing, especially the sister I fought with. Apparently, my grandma asked that sister what I would like for Christmas. Since she was still mad at me, she answered, “Minion stuff.” My grandma thought that I, a thirteen-year-old, needed a Minion lullaby machine. Needless to say, that wasn’t my favorite gift.)

When Your Entitlement Gets You Shut Down

, , , , | Right | December 29, 2017

(It’s my last shift at a fast food restaurant before I leave and move to university. My shift ends at the same time we close, which is three minutes away. As it’s so late, I’m the only one serving the drive-through. The customer I’m currently serving has decided to change her order while at the window. Another car comes up to the speaker and I ask them to wait while muting my headphones. Once my current customer drives off, I turn it back on.)

Customer: “…and [Meal] with fries and large [Drink].”

Me: “I’m sorry; I was helping another customer. Could you please start over?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “It’s not my problem if you don’t care about your customers. I’m not repeating myself.”

Me: “Okay, I apologise for my lack of multitasking. Have a nice night.”

(I turn off the headphones and check the clock. My shift is now over, so I do a final clean up. While cleaning, I notice a car outside the window.)

Me: *opening the window* “Sorry, but we are now—”

Customer: “You lazy b****, take my order now!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you said you weren’t going to repeat yourself, so assumed you didn’t want to order now. As I said, we are now closed.” *closes the window while she screams at me*

(I go to collect my stuff from the break room, and come out while my manager speaks to the customer who is still at the window.)

Manager: “You don’t seem to be getting it. I can’t fire her.”

Customer: “WHY THE F*** NOT?!”

Manager: “Because she has literally just finished her last shift. She no longer works here.”

Customer: “Oh, well, can I order now?”

Manager: “No.” *closes the window*

(We both laughed while the customer continued to scream. I said goodbye to everyone and sprinted to my car in case the customer saw me. The morning after, I got a text message from the manager who also ended up opening. The customer came back and demanded I be fired. He again said that I wasn’t working there anymore, after which the customer demanded free food, because she was upset she didn’t get her way. Words were said, and he doesn’t think she’ll be coming back anytime soon.)

Not Even A Charitable Excuse

, , , , | Right | December 28, 2017

(It’s the first winter during the refugee crisis in Europe. A lot of asylum seekers haven’t been able to register and be assigned to a home due to the sudden influx of people, so they are camping in front of the respective government agencies in the cold. The owner of the secondhand shop where I work decides to help, and starts a campaign where you can donate winter clothing for refugees at our store and get 10% off on your purchase in return. Sadly, that does not only bring kind-hearted people to our store but a lot of people wanting to complain.)

Customer: “Hi there. I want to speak to your boss about the program you’re doing. Honestly, it’s a disgrace you’d run a charity for refugees here while there are so many German families that are poor and can’t buy clothes.”

Me: “Sadly, my boss isn’t in today. However, if you’re coming in because you’re concerned about poor families, I have good news for you. See, that promotion is actually modelled after a promotion we’ve been continuously running since 2008, where you donate children’s clothing and get off 10% of your purchase. Do you have some children’s clothes you’d be willing to donate?”

Customer: “Absolutely not! They can shove that free clothes up their a**es. They need to stop being lazy, spongeing off of others, and feeling entitled to get free stuff just because they are too lazy to make a living.”

Me: “May I remind you that your initial complaint was that we provide charity to refugees while there are poor German families?”

Customer: *dumbstruck for a second* “Umm… I mean… JUST F*** YOU GUYS!” *walks away*

Turning Their Entitlement Up To 11

, , , , | Right | December 27, 2017

(It is Sunday, and our store opens at 10:30 for half an hour roaming time. We cannot trade in that half hour, due to trading laws. The cashiers who are assigned to the registers are standing by the customer service desk with me, discussing the new store remodelling we will be doing next week. They are physically unable to login until 11:00, so it is pointless for them to stand by the registers until then. We have a sign at the front noting our inability to trade at this time. A customer lines up and stares at the sign, mouthing the words on it. Several other customers also appear, but upon noticing the sign they leave and look around the store some more. This first customer, however, does not. At around 10:50, she huffs loudly, getting all of our attention. I’m about to speak when she turns away, making as much noise as she can. She walks around the barrier and along entire front aisle before arriving at the service desk. She could have just walked through a gap in the barrier which allows customers to leave.)

Customer: “You are terrible people. I have been standing there for half an hour, and instead of helping me, all you do is talk about me, to my face!

Me: “Miss, the store opened at 10:30.”

Customer: “AND?”

Me: “It’s 10:50. It’s impossible for you to have been standing there for half an hour, and as you should know, we cannot trade until 11. At most I would say you have been there five, maybe ten minutes.”


Me: “I saw you read the sign.”

Customer: “So, you admit you noticed me and did absolutely nothing?”

Me: “To be honest, I assumed you wanted to be first in line, and were willing to wait for 20 minutes to achieve that. I apologise if I was wrong. I will be more thoughtful in future.”

Customer: “Well, okay, that sounds fair.” *awkward silence* “So, can I buy these, then?”

Me: “We can’t trade for another seven minutes.”

Customer: “YOU’RE ALL F****** USELESS!”

(She threw her basket at us and stormed out of the store. Over the next month we received close to 100 letters complaining about our services, all via special delivery, which required signing for and must have cost a pretty penny. Eventually the store manager refused to take them and we were told they would be returned to the sender. I wasn’t there on the day the customer returned, but apparently a woman matching her description walked in and dumped the returned letters on the floor, before spitting on them and walking out. We have yet to see her again, and the letters have stopped.)

A Mutt Of A Human

, , , , , , | Right | December 27, 2017

(I’m visiting family with my dog in tow, and I decide to hit the local big-box pet store to pick up some toys and treats for him, since we only really have boutique pet stores that are uber-expensive in the city I live in. Since it’s a pet store, I’ve brought my dog along for the trip.)

Customer: “Aw, he’s so cute! Can I pet him?”

Me: “Sure, he’d love that! He’s a big old cuddle bug.”

Customer: “He’s so friendly and fluffy!” *drops to a whisper* “I know this store wants everyone to adopt mutts that nobody wants, but I’d love to get a high-quality dog like yours. Are you breeding him or can you tell me what breeder you got him from?”

Me: “Um, actually, I rescued him from a shelter a couple years ago. He’s actually a ‘mutt,’ and, since he came from the shelter, he is fixed. I can give you the information for the shelter I rescued him from; it’s local. They often have smaller dogs like him up for adoption. They even sometimes have pure-bred or designer dogs, if you’re looking for a specific breed or breed mix.”

Customer: “What, do you work here?” *laughs* “I’d be willing to pay a handsome fee for one of his pups. Just tell me where you’re breeding him and I’ll go put a deposit down. Whatever you want for one of his pups, I’ll make it back breeding that puppy, anyway.”

Me: “Ma’am, don’t make me lift up his tail and show you that he has no balls. He. Is. A. Rescue. He’s fixed, and I am an avid supporter of adoption and rescue. I’m actually in this aisle because I’m going to buy a large bag of good dog food and donate it to the rescue I adopted him from. Again, I think it would be a good idea for you to consider adoption, but if you insist on buying a ‘papered’ dog, there are plenty of Amish puppy mills in the area that will sell you an expensive and sickly ‘purebred.’ Just go to any flea market and I’m sure you’ll find the ‘perfect’ dog you’re looking for.”

Customer: “Well, you don’t have to be so rude about it! I was just trying to make both of us some money! If you knew what was good for you, you wouldn’t have had his balls cut off!”

Me: “I know that I have a dog that was purchased from a flea market and summarily dumped at the pound when his owner was uninterested in doing the basics of dog ownership. I know that he cowers if you show your hand to him palm out, which leads me to believe she hit him. I know that he was flea-bitten and malnourished when she turned him in, and now he’s healthy and happy. And I know that he won’t be producing any puppies that just mean shelter dogs wait even longer, or even die, because shallow b****** need a cute accessory. That all makes me feel pretty good. You can keep the money. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to buying that bag of food for the shelter, and a couple of toys and treats for him.”

Customer: “Well, I have never been addressed so rudely by a sad little girl. Have fun with your shaggy mutt!” *storms off*

(I mention this interaction to the cashier:)

Cashier: “Oh, yes. She comes in here a couple times a week looking for people who are breeding their dogs. She seems to target people with small-ish, long-hair dogs. She never really gets anywhere, and ends up leaving totally pissed off. She’s yelled at the rescue groups we host out front several times. I don’t know why management doesn’t just kick her out and tell her if she’s that dead-set on getting a designer dog, just go to the flea market up the street!”

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