(I work in a hotel. One of my pet peeves working overnight is kids wandering around late at night. If they just want to hang in the lobby and talk, then fine, but more often they wander the halls looking for trouble to get into. Tonight, there was a group of older teen boys doing just that. They went into our banquet area and security kicked them out, but as some of them claimed to be over eighteen — and they looked old enough to be plausible — we couldn’t send them to their rooms until they actually got into a restricted area; the banquet area is still accessible, just dark for the night. Then, about an hour later…)

Walkie: *unfamiliar voice* “Uh, hello?” *giggling*

Security: “This is security. Who is this?”

Walkie: *silence*

(My security guard goes in the back halls and, sure enough, there is a group of these teens messing around with our cleaning equipment, but now in an area that is clearly marked “employees only.”)

Security: “Okay, who’s over eighteen?”

Kids: *realizing that being legal adults is no longer beneficial* “Uh… no one…”

Security: “Cool, curfew for minors is midnight. Go. To. Bed.

(They sullenly stalked up to their room, though later they apparently snuck down and got into the kitchen, too. Security escorted them all the way to their rooms this time, and I’m currently sitting and waiting for the third strike where I get to call the cops.)

(My friend and I are killing time wandering through a local “farmer’s market”-style setup that also has some booths selling art, jewelry, and things of that sort. We stop to admire the crafts and trinkets being offered by one booth and the seller comes over to greet us. It’s worth noting here that I have several tattoos, including song lyrics on my upper left arm. I’m quite used to people asking to read what the tattoo says and will happily turn my arm so they can get a better view. This lady, however, takes a more… direct approach.) 

Seller: *seeing my tattoo* “Oh, let me see!”

(She then GRABBED my arm and twisted it toward her, holding onto it hard enough that I’m not entirely confident I could’ve yanked it out of her grip if I’d tried. As it was, though, I was shocked enough that I just froze until she’d finished reading the text and let me go. My friend and I made a hasty retreat to another booth after that. The most surprising thing is that the seller had tattoos and piercings herself, so you’d think she’d be familiar with the tattoo etiquette of ASKING before touching someone else’s tattoos. Or, you know, the general nicety of asking before touching someone at all, ever.)

(I work in the customer service center of a major theme park. My coworkers and I only deal with problems related to our particular park, and not any other parks or properties owned by our company. I get a call.)

Me: “You’ve reached the [Theme Park] customer service center. My name is [My Name]. How can I help you today?”

Caller: “You need to fire [Extremely Common Male First Name]!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Caller: “[First Name]. You need to fire him right now!”

Me: “I’m sorry your experience with us was not what you were expecting. Could you tell me a little more about the problem you’re having?”

Caller: “[First Name] was rude to me! I demand you fire him!”

Me: “I’m afraid I’ll need a little more information before I can help you, ma’am.”

Caller: *raising her voice* “[First Name]! [FIRST NAME]! HE WAS RUDE TO ME! FIRE HIM!”

(I feel like I probably shouldn’t humor her by checking our employee database, but I do anyway.)

Me: “Ma’am, there are 27 employees of our park with that name. I’m not sure which [First Name] has been giving you a problem.”

Caller: “It wasn’t in your park, you idiot! It was in the restaurant!”

Me: “Which restaurant?”

Caller: “THE RESTAURANT! THE ONE ON [STREET]!”

(The street she names is several blocks from the edge of our company’s property.)

Me: “Wait a moment. You’re calling the [Theme Park] service line to complain about an employee of some other business?”

Caller: “[Our Company] owns this whole state! Everyone knows that! Now you need to fire that rude boy!”

Me: “[Our Company] does not own that restaurant, ma’am. I suggest you speak to the manager of the restaurant because there’s nothing I can do for you.”

Caller: “Listen to me, you key-pushing nitwit. Do you have any idea how much I spent on my [Our Company] vacation? [Five-digit amount]! Everyone knows that if you spend [less than what she claims to have spent] then you’re entitled to a superior level of service! [First Name] was rude to me and he must get what he deserves!“

Me: “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.”

Caller: “Then let me speak to your boss! I’ll have him fire [First Name] and you, too, or else I’ll just take my [amount of money she claims to have spent] to [Rival Theme Park Company], instead!”

Me: “I’ll be happy to transfer you to my supervisor, although he’s currently in a meeting with the head of our division and it might be several minutes before he can take your call.”

Caller: “NO! THAT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE! I SPENT [AMOUNT] ON MY VACATION! YOU GO TELL YOUR BOSS HE’S GOING TO LOSE MY BUSINESS! I’LL GET HIM FIRED, TOO!”

Me: “If you continue to threaten our employees, ma’am, I’m going to disconnect this call.”

Caller: “Why are you protecting [First Name], anyway, huh?! Is he your boyfriend or something?!”

Me: “WHAT?”

Caller: “It all makes sense now! Trash boys always date trash girls!”

Me: “The [Company] is grateful for your business and hopes your experience with us was truly magical.” *hangs up*

(That night in our break room, I overhear this conversation between two of my coworkers.)

Coworker #1: “And then I got this angry lady on the line demanding to speak to [First Name]’s girlfriend. She just screamed gibberish at me for like three minutes straight.”

Coworker #2: “Wait a minute, you got her, too? ‘I spent [amount] on my vacation and you need to fire [First Name] and his trash girlfriend’?”

Coworker #1: “That’s her, dude.”

Coworker #2: “Ugh. I hung up on her after like two minutes. She kept saying we were conspiring to protect these ‘trash’ people and threatening to get me fired.”

Me: “I guess the phrase ‘first available representative’ is lost on some people.”

(I am in a computer science class where we aren’t allowed to log in until the teacher says so. The teacher can see everyone’s screens from her computer.)

Teacher: “[Student #1], log out of your computer.”

Student #1: “I’m not logged in!”

Teacher: “Yes, you are. You just turned the monitor off.”

Student #2: “Ha! She told you!”

Teacher: “[Student #2], log off, as well.”

Student #2: “Oh, you can see that?”

(The class burst out laughing.)

(I work at a very popular fast food restaurant doing night shifts. Once a year, we have to shut down all our cooking stations and pull them several feet away from the wall for a third-party crew to come in and clean all the… gunk… that builds up behind them. The regular crew uses this time to do a deep-clean of the entire rest of the store. All of our external lights are off, we only have barely enough inside lights on to see what we’re doing, and the drive-thru is coned off. I am taking a much-needed smoke break when a large truck drives over our cones and stops at the drive-thru speaker, only a few feet away from the patio I’m sitting on.)

Me: “Sorry, we’re closed right now for cleaning.”

Driver: “THEN WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT?!”

Me: *thinking* “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” *verbally* “They’re open.” *pointing to the store with a drive-thru entrance no more than ten feet away from ours*

Driver: “F*** YOU!” *lays on the gas and squeals out of our drive-thru, past the other store, and out of the complex, never to be seen again*

(Yeah, dude, so sorry; I forgot that you’re more important than the health rating of our store. I’m sure your one single order would have been more than enough to cover the extra hour five contractors would charge for their work.)