I am usually upbeat at work and have earned the nickname “Friendly” for my ability to handle even the most difficult customer at the small convenience store I work at. On this day, however…

A customer is looking through a display of beverages in glass containers, and they are either too lazy to put it back on the shelf correctly or totally misjudge the distance, because after removing a bottle from the display to read the back, the customer replaces the bottle, where it immediately falls and breaks.

My coworker is up front on our second register, so I immediately close mine and run over to mark off the area with cones, put on an orange safety vest that shows a stick figure mopping on the back — to indicate I am busy with cleanup and cannot provide customer service at this time — and begin cleaning up.

For whatever reason, every. Single. Customer entering the store decides to walk directly through the sticky pile of glass and liquid I am trying to clean up, even though there are several cones in a circle blocking the mess from every angle and space for customers to walk down two different unobstructed aisles to go around me. 

At first, I attempt to be polite, but after about the fifth person walks past the cones to squeeze by me and literally crunches over the glass and slips on the puddle, I throw down the mop, which clatters to the floor, and scream, “STOP WALKING THROUGH THE F****** GLASS!”

I then calmly pick up the mop and continue cleaning. The store is absolutely silent for the next minute as I clean up the mess, put away the cones, and return to my register.

(I am in line at a thrift store when a woman rushes up behind me.)

Customer: “Ma’am, ma’am!”

Cashier: “I’ll be with you in a moment, ma’am.”

Customer: “I’m not waiting in line for this! I bought a blanket earlier but it’s not big enough so I’m taking another one.”

Cashier: “Ma’am, please wait in line and I’ll assist you.”

Customer: “No, I’m not paying for this! The blanket I bought earlier wasn’t big enough. I have a queen bed and I bought a twin. I’m taking this other twin blanket and I’m going to sew them together.”

Cashier: “Okay, if you please wait in line, I’ll be glad to ring you up.”

Customer: “No! I’m not paying for this. The other blanket isn’t big enough. I’m just going to take it.”

(By now all of the customers in line are incredulous and we’re all talking over ourselves trying to explain to the customer that you can’t just take things without paying. She is not comprehending at all.)

Customer: “I AM NOT PAYING! THE OTHER BLANKET WASN’T BIG ENOUGH!”

Cashier: “You have to pay for the things you buy here; that’s just the way it is.”

(The customer then loudly and messily blows her nose on the blanket.)

Customer: “There. Now it’s damaged. I’m taking it.” *walks out of the store*

Cashier: “Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen. I guess she really wanted that $4 snot-covered blanket.”

(It is my last call of a shift on a Sunday.)

Me: “Hi, my name is [My Name]. How can I help?”

Customer: “I have been given a weird telephone number.”

Me: “I see. Weird how?”

Customer: “It’s [area code].”

Me: “Yup, that’s the area code for [the area both the customer and I live in and where we have his address registered].”

Customer: “It should be [area code for the other end of the country].”

Me: “Odd. Can I just confirm your address?”

(It turns out the sales agent who processed the order processed it for the wrong address and postcode.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but it seems to be that the order has been placed for the incorrect address.”

Customer: “Well, I’m going to find [Person who placed my order], put my 9mm to his head, and blow his f****** brains out, and that’s a kindness!” *laughs*

Me: *silently typing for several minutes* “Okay, well, sir, that is your order cancelled. I apologise, as I will not carry on with this conversation any further.”

Customer: “I DIDN’T WANT TO CANCEL!”

Me: “I understand, but threats of any kind to members of staff will not be tolerated, even if you meant it in jest. I am very uncomfortable continuing this conversation with you any further.”

Customer: “WELL, I DIDN’T F****** WANT YOUR SERVICE, ANYWAY, YOU THIEVING BUNCH OF B*****DS!”

Me: “Okay, then. Goodbye.”

(Our high-level complaints team contacted the customer, who blamed his actions on having had too much to drink. Nevertheless, he is never getting our services again.)

(It’s a busy day at our small library, and my coworker and I are swamped. Our public printer is behind the desk; patrons pay us and we hand them what they print. Amid helping half a dozen children and teens, the mother of some of them storms behind the desk and grabs her documents off the printer.)

Patron: “I’m taking these! I’ll pay you later when I’m done printing everything!”

Coworker: “Um… okay? But—”

(My coworker immediately gets overwhelmed by the demands of the customer she was in the middle of helping and doesn’t pursue the issue further. However, she shoots me a look at this lady’s attitude. I’m also busy helping return and check out DVDs to several adults, but I keep my eye on the printer. Every time a document comes out, I grab it and hide it even farther behind our work desk. These documents belong to several people in the library, not just the lady in question. When I catch a moment to breathe, I turn around and the lady is literally right in my face, right next to our cash register, and trying to grab her prints from the pile of documents; some of which don’t even belong to her and contain sensitive information.)

Me: “Woah! Ma’am, you cannot be back here!”

(Surprised, I snatch all the papers before she can grab them.)

Patron: “I’m just grabbing my papers!”

Me: “You can’t be back here; you have to go around the front of the desk.”

Patron: “I just want my papers! You can’t steal them from me! They’re mine!”

Me: “You haven’t paid for these yet. Now please go around to the right side of the desk!”

Patron: “Give me my papers! The other lady said I could come back here whenever I want! I need to see what I printed so I don’t print duplicates!”

Coworker: “I’m sorry I caused confusion. But you can’t be back here.” *trying not to escalate the situation*

Patron: *waves her finger in my face* “This woman!” *storms off* “I don’t even want those papers anymore!”

(The lady grabs her purse from the computer and storms out, leaving her children behind. There’s three, roughly the ages of eight, fourteen, and somewhere in between. The kids look really uncomfortable, but they go back to what they were doing; one is on the computer playing quietly, and the other two are asking my coworker about books. About fifteen minutes later, the lady storms back in. She edges as close as she can around our desk without technically being behind it and leans further over so she’s in my face. She starts wagging her finger at my nose again.)

Patron: “Listen to me. You can’t treat people that way. I’m not some thief. I would have paid for those papers! If I hadn’t known I couldn’t go behind the desk, I wouldn’t have!”

Me: *looks over at her kids, who are lined up politely with a bunch of other kids and waiting their turn at the front of the desk* “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but it’s common sense the line starts here.”

Patron: “The other lady told me I could come behind the desk any time I want! You’d better watch yourself!”

Me: “Are you threatening me?”

(By this time, our armed security guard has come over after having witnessed the whole thing.)

Security: “Ma’am, you can’t talk that way. You cannot threaten these women.”

Patron: “I’m not threatening anyone! I’m just telling this woman here that she’d better watch her attitude! She can’t talk to anyone so rude like that!”

Security: “Ma’am, there’s no need for you to be rude. You cannot talk to these women like this. You can calm down, or you can leave.”

Patron: “I would have never gone behind the desk I’d I’d have known! That lady told me I could! You can’t steal my papers from me! You can’t treat me like this!” *waving her finger at both me and the man with the gun*

Me: “Ma’am, please calm down.”

Patron: “This b****!” *storms out again, leaving her children behind* “I don’t want those d*** papers, anyway!” *slams the door*

Regular: *checking out DVDs* “I always wondered why you guys needed a security guard. The library always seemed so nice.”

(An hour later, the angry lady came back yet again. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me and did her best to make sure I didn’t see her. She rounded up her kids, who had followed all library rules and caused no trouble. She went to my coworker and paid for her papers and left. I hope she never comes back.)

(My family has been discussing our family history. I have been compiling a family tree for my father’s side of the family to go with what other relatives have done on my mother’s side. My brother and I have both done a consumer DNA test to help me with this. My parents are considering doing one, too, but haven’t done it in the two years they’ve had the kit.)

Mother: “I just don’t like the security of them; anyone can access your data. Just look at what happened in the US.” *referring to the Golden State Killer*

Me: “What are you saying? Are you telling me you’re a closet serial killer?”

Mother: “No! I’m just worried about what they might use my DNA for in the future.”

Me: “So, you’re not a serial killer but you want to leave the option open to become one at a later date without getting caught?”

(She has neither confirmed or denied this plan.)