(Right before my shift, management, unfortunately, had to call the police to remove an unruly guest from a movie about fifteen minutes in. In order to make up for the inconvenience, the theater handed out free passes and concession vouchers to the thirty-or-so others in the theater, and give them an option: they could either stay and finish the movie, switch to another showtime any day and time during the coming week, or get a refund for their tickets and concessions if they bought any. Everyone is fine with this option, since hey… they’re getting about three times what they actually paid for. Until, of course, one cranky old man comes up to me at the concession stand a while after the film…)

Customer: “I want something to sweeten the pot!”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I was in that movie the cops stormed! I want something to sweeten the pot, or I go to the papers!”

Me: “Oh, did they not give you passes?”

Customer: “I got passes. I just want something to sweeten the pot! Or else I’m blasting you in the papers for scaring me half to death with cops swarming in left and right the whole d*** time!”

Me: “Let me go get a manager for you. Perhaps they can resolve this better than I can.”

Customer: “I already went to the managers!”

Me: “Well, sir, if you’ve already gotten passes, I can’t really give you anything else.”

Customer: *beaming; looking at my name tag* “Popcorn and soda, [My Name]! Or else your name will be all over the press for bullying an old man!”

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to get authorization from my managers first.”

Customer: “But they said no!”

Me: “Then my hands are tied.”

(Suddenly, my manager bolts up behind me.)

Manager: “Sir, we’re calling the cops again if you don’t leave. Out! Now!”

(The man turned and fled out of the door. I asked what was going on. Evidently, he was the customer who had been removed by police, and he was denied passes or a refund. He’s evidently one of the local “old, crazy guys” who goes into businesses and starts trouble. He thought that the managers wouldn’t notice him coming back in and demanding free stuff.)

(I’m 17 and I have low-level tinnitus, and have used music the majority of my life to keep my mind off it, much like Miles in “Baby Driver.” The vast majority of people either know that I have my reason for always using earbuds, or they don’t mind and don’t ask. This happens when my regular history teacher is away and we have a substitute teacher who is in her mid-20s.)

Teacher: “[My Name] take your headphones out; it’s against school policy.”

Me: “I could, but I use them to offset my tinnitus.”

Teacher: “Take them out.”

Me: “I just explained why I ca—“

(She walks over to me and forcefully takes them from me, shattering my phone in the process.)

Teacher: “Come on. We’re going to the office.”

(I stand up, calmly picking up my phone and following her to the office. By the time we get there, I have a mild headache and am visibly uncomfortable. We walk into the office and the principal and receptionist’s eyes go wide.)

Receptionist: “[My Name], are you all right? [Teacher], what happened?”

Teacher: “This student refuses to take his headphones out.”

Principal: “Because he has tinnitus!”

Teacher: “Nonsense!” *to me, literally yelling in my ear* “You’re fine!”

(The sudden increase in noise makes me scream in pain and defensively swing at the teacher. When I realize what happened, I am standing over the teacher clutching my ear as she covers her nose, which is visibly broken.)

Teacher: “What the h***?!”

(The principal came over and returned my headphones, then proceeded to help the teacher up. My parents and police were called; my father arrived and absolutely lost it on the teacher. Afterward, assault charges were filed against the teacher, and I had to go to the hospital to get the ringing to subside.)

(I’m on my lunch break at a shopping centre. As per my company’s uniform policy, I am wearing a jacket over my work shirt so it isn’t visible at all. Occasionally, a regular customer at my shop will see me elsewhere in the centre and ask for help, usually directions or recommendations. Then sometimes, this happens:)

Customer: “Where are the shopping carts?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “Well? Aren’t you going to get me one?”

Me: “A… What?”

Customer: “I need a shopping cart! I can’t carry it by myself.”

Me: “Well, you’d have to look in the shop you’re buying from. They have their own.”

Customer: “But aren’t you going to get me one?”

(I try to walk away, thinking that I have more than enough on my plate as it is. The customer then attempts to grab my arm; fortunately, I move away fast enough.)

Customer: “This is outrageous! I am going to report you to [My Company].”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m not at work right now. We don’t have shopping carts in our shop, and I don’t know where you are going or what you want to carry.”

Customer: “The vase. I said I wanted the vase!”

Me: “And where is this vase?”

Customer: “[Shop a few feet away], obviously! Can’t you see the vase?”

(I had noticed a window display featuring a collection of ornamental pots, so again I suggest that she asks an employee of that shop to help her. Then, I speedily make my way into the staff-only part of my own shop. Later that day…)

Manager: “[My Name], I had a rather weird complaint about you earlier.”

Me: “Was is a lady who wanted me to get a shopping cart so she could buy a vase at some other shop?”

Manager: “Uh… Maybe. A lady came in screeching that one of our employees refused to help her carry her purchase to the car. She insisted that it was you and waved this bag from [Other Shop], and I just said that our policy wasn’t to carry things for people unless they had particular needs. Then she screamed and asked why we didn’t have any carts.”

Me: “I was on my lunch break. I think she might have seen me working at some point but I wasn’t in uniform.”

Manager: “We got security in the end. She wouldn’t stop shouting that we needed carts and better staff. But I think one of the big security lads did manage to carry her vase for her.”

(At our pool, the only hot tubs are in the male and female change-rooms, while on the pool deck we have a kiddie pool and the main pool. The hot tubs in the change-rooms are hotter, and we will sometimes have parents want to bring their children in with them. We have no problem with this, as long as they are aware not to stay in too long, and as long as their children of the opposite gender are three and under. In all my years there, I have never had a problem with fathers bringing in daughters who are too old. I have had MULTIPLE problems with mothers bringing their sons into the female change room. I’m doing a change-room check in the female change-room when a mom walks in with her two sons. Both are clearly way too old to be in there; they are probably eight or ten. They make their way to the hot tub.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but they can’t be in there if they are over the age of three.”

(The mother turns around and looks at me, wide-eyed.)

Mom: “WHAT?!”

Me: “This is still a female change-room, so they can’t be in here if they are over three.”

Mom: “THIS IS RIDICULOUS! You expect me to leave my kids to get kidnapped while I use the hot tub? This is how they get kidnapped; that is a horrible rule!”

Me: “I don’t expect that at all, but we have the kiddie pool for you to use—“

Mom: “THAT IS NOT A HOT TUB!”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry but they can’t be in here.”

Mom: “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Me: “There is the kiddie pool, or you can return with someone to watch your kids while—“

Mom: “No, we’re not going anywhere. Boys, get comfy.”

(She then proceeded to go into the hot tub and glare at me. Eventually, security had to force them out.)

(My coworkers and I are cleaning up after finishing swimming lessons. Suddenly, one of my coworkers approaches me and asks me to check out some raised voices she heard in the hallway. I walk up and I do hear raised voices coming from two mothers. I approach one of the ladies who is yelling and, for the sake of this story, it’s important to note that she is white and the woman she is arguing with is of African descent.)

Me: “Hey, ladies, what seems to be—“

(Suddenly, out of nowhere, the white lady screeches and storms up to the other woman.)

Lady: “DON’T YOU EVER TALK LIKE THAT TO ME!”

(The two start arguing while I’m trying to calm them down. I quickly radio the site leader that night, who helps me separate them. While we are trying to talk to both of them, the one customer is fuming and won’t calm down.)

Lady: “That f****** b**** and her son are dead. Dead! Her [racial slur] son hit my little girl!”

(The son and daughter are no more than five years old.)

Team Leader: “Ma’am, that language is not allowed here.”

Lady: “KICK THEM THE F*** OUT!”

(Meanwhile, I’m talking to the other mom, who is calm but obviously shaken, and trying to console her son, who is crying. It turns out that as they were passing by each other in the narrow hallway, the little boy accidentally bumped into the little girl and apologized. That’s when the other lady lost it. As I’m writing down a report, the team leader comes to me, obviously having had enough of the other lady.)

Team Leader: “Since you were the first one here, I just want to clarify something: would you say that the lady I’m talking to is the one who instigated the fight?”

Me: “Well, they were both arguing when I arrived—“

Team Leader: “But if I were to say in the report that the other lady was the one who was the most uncooperative and most argumentative, would you back up this statement?”

Me: “Oh, yes. I would, 100%.”

Team Leader: “Thank you.”

(She then walks back over to the other lady, who is still swearing and cursing.)

Team Leader: “You will stop this at once and leave this building or I will call and have police escort you out. Furthermore, you are banned from using this facility ever again for uttering death threats and discriminatory remarks. If you try to come back, we have your information and the police will be called. Do you understand?”

Lady: *starts to cry and wail* “It’s because I’m white, isn’t it?”

(That was the first and only time in my lifetime — so far — that I’ve ever heard that remark. Also, no, lady, it’s because you’re crazy!)