(My partner has two young boys from his previous relationship. We take them to our local park one Saturday afternoon for a walk and let them have a bit of time in the play area. My partner goes to the play equipment with them to supervise while I sit on the wall at the side just enjoying the sunshine. I’m pretty zoned out, just relaxing, when a man comes and sits next to me. I pay him no mind and carry on just chilling until he starts speaking to me.)

Man: “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Me: “Yeah, very nice.”

Man: “Nice to get the kids out for a bit, eh?”

Me: *nods head*

Man: “I see you’ve suffered from the same problem my ex-wife had.”

Me: *confused* “I’m sorry?”

Man: *looks me up and down* “Well, you clearly didn’t get your figure back after having them two, did you? My ex-wife had the same; that’s why she’s my ex!” *laughs as if this is the most hilarious thing*

Me: *just stares at him, gob-smacked*

Man: “Better mind that man of yours doesn’t do the same, or you’ll be stuck with them boys on your own!” *winks at me*

Me: *finally regaining enough composure to respond* “Firstly, it’s none of your business; secondly, they’re not my kids; and thirdly, I think she’s better off without your judgmental a** around, to be honest!”

(With that I got up and went over to my partner, leaving that man sat on the wall looking rather shocked. When I told my partner about it, he was obviously fuming, but when I went to point the guy out he’d completely vanished. I mean, I know I’m not exactly skinny, but what on earth gives him the idea that comments like that are acceptable?!)

(I work at an arcade with batting cages, and we have a play park. Everyone who goes into the play park must purchase a wristband. We send staff periodically to check and make sure no one has snuck in. I also run the Facebook page, and I receive this message, which is a screenshot of a review he made a couple of days ago.)

Customer: “Worst f****** experience ever! We went there so my son could get some practice hitting. As he finished up, he wanted to play in the arcade and in the ball pit, which was all fine and good. Well, he was playing in the ball pit, and some teenagers who were playing in there at the same time but had no business being in there were horse playing and they hit him in the eye. No one apologized about it, and they all scattered like roaches when the kitchen light comes on. Then, furthermore, while we went in there playing with our kids — eight and almost a year old — we were told we have to leave because we didn’t have wristbands and we weren’t supposed to be in there. I felt that my character was discriminated against that night, and believe me, we will not, and I repeat not be coming back!”

Me: “Hi, [Customer], I’m sorry you had a bad experience Sunday. I don’t know how the review evaded my sight, as I usually see every one that appears. So, thank you for bringing it to my attention. However, while you are right that the teenagers had no business being in there, I honestly have to say you had no right to be in there, either, since you did not purchase a wristband to be in there. It wasn’t your character that was being discriminated against; we kick everyone out who has not purchased a wristband.”

Customer: “That’s not the point. The point of the matter is that nothing was done about it until we got there, and the people there were choosing sides because you believe what people tell you. It was basically black against white, but we definitely are not coming back to that h***-hole.”

Me: “Okay, maybe I’m not understanding what the problem here is. Did you tell our staff that there were teenagers roughhousing in the Play Park and nothing was done? Or is it that you were kicked out of the Play Park because you did not purchase wristbands, or something else?”

(The customer doesn’t respond after that. But my favorite part is what other customers commented on his review.)

Customer #1: “Sounds like you should be more upset with the teenagers than the place.”

Customer #2: “Right. You’re giving this place a bad rating for other people’s actions, and for the fact that you obviously missed the sign that clearly states you need a wristband to play in the ball pit area.”

Customer #3: “Good sports are not for weak-minded cry-babies.”

Customer #4: “You should have stepped up as his father and said something to the teenagers. Whenever my autistic son is in there, if other children’s parents are not enforcing their child to play according to the rules, with my son in the ball pit, I will not hesitate to politely tell the kids to calm down, play nice, and remember that not everyone is the same age, and you have to be cautious of the little ones. I have never had an issue with other parents getting angry or at all upset with me for going out of my way to ensure my son’s safety from kids that are playing too rough in the ball pit area. And yes, it clearly states on the entrance to the soft play area the price; it was your ignorance that had your son removed, not the employees of [Company] treating you any different from any other customer. Perhaps you should pay more attention to small details clearly posted in locations you attend.”

(I’m working as a cashier a month or two after the holiday season, like late January or February. A lot of customers come in without receipts — not even gift receipts — and want full refunds in the form of cash; both of these things are against store policy. A family walks in with a bag so I assume they’re going to return or exchange.)

Me: “Hello. How are y’all doing today?”

Customer: “I need to exchange this shirt I got as a gift; it’s too big.”

(It’s a large, and this dude is RIPPED, but he wants a medium.)

Me: “Okay, no problem. Can I see your receipt?”

Customer: “I don’t have one. It was a gift.”

Me: “Okay. If you don’t have a receipt or a gift receipt, can I have the name of the person who purchased it so I can see if they are enrolled in our rewards program?”

Customer: “Look. I just want to switch the shirt out.”

Me: “I understand, but without a receipt or the ability to locate the purchase, I will have to do a no-receipt return for you, and I can only give you the lowest price this shirt has ever been. I’d like to do an even exchange, if you could just give me the name of the person who purchased this for you, please.”

(The customer gives me the name, and I find it, so I explain that the shirt was purchased on sale and I can do an even exchange for that exact shirt in a different size. He comes back to the register with a gray shirt; I have already explained that he needs to get the same red shirt in his desired size.)

Me: *starting the return, hoping maybe the shirt is still on sale, only to find out it isn’t* “Okay. For the gray shirt, you will owe the difference, which is $10.”

Customer: “No, I’m not paying that.”

Me: “Unfortunately, I can’t correct the price unless it is the exact same item.” *as I had previously explained.*

Customer: *proceeding to yell and cuss at me in front of his wife and child* “This is bulls***! Whatever. I’ll pay the difference.”

Me: “Again, I apologize, but there is nothing I can do to lower the price unless you want to get the red shirt.”

(I take his money, complete the transaction, and tell them to have a good day.)

Customer: “Actually, I want that red shirt I just returned for the price it was purchased at the time my friend got it for me.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but this since it has been returned, I can only give it to you for the price it rings up now, which is the same price you just paid for the gray one.”

(He BLEW up, and my manager heard him and came up. She ended up having me give him the red one and his $10 back just to get him out of there, but a little bit of me died inside as he walked out calling me stupid because my manager backed down to him.)

(I am at a used car market which is basically a free-for-all, buy-at-your-own-risk affair. I am an ethnic Chinese woman, and it looks like there are no other people of East Asian descent or women shopping alone. This is a collection of some of the characters.)

Me: “Can I start the car and see how it runs?”

Old White Guy: “Why?”

(Another instance:)

Me: “Would you take R55,000 for this?”

Guy: “No, but can I have your number?”

(Another instance:)

Old Indian Guy: “My son is a dealer. I’ll give you his address. Don’t buy cars from black guys; a lot of them are stolen.”

(Another instance:)

(The reaction of multiple guys when I ask about maintenance issues:)

Them: “Do you have a husband/brother/father at home?”

(Another instance:)

Young Indian Guy: “Hey! Over here! I have the perfect car for you!” *points at a tiny, ugly, subcompact of an unfamiliar make I have to Google*

Me: “Do you think I’m going to buy some random China car just because I’m Chinese?”

(I’m working at a retail drug store that has a photo kiosk available for customers to come in and print photos from their phone. I am ringing up a line of customers when another customer calls me from the kiosk, yelling across the store.)

Customer: “Can I get some help, please?!”

Me: “Absolutely, ma’am. I’ll call up my manager, since I’m the only cashier today.”

Customer: *scoffs*

(I call up my manager, and can hear her trying to help the lady from several feet away.)

Manager: “Just plug your phone into the cords we have provided. That’s the simplest and fastest way to do this.”

Customer: “No! You’re going to steal all my information from my phone! I want to do this wirelessly!”

Manager: “Okay… the best way to do that is to do it as an online order, which may take up to an hour. We will be watching the kiosks, so as soon as the order comes through, we can print it instantly. However, as I said, it may take up to an hour for the order to come through. I highly recommend you plug the phone in, instead, as that will be much quicker.”

Customer: “I’m not using your cords. You’re trying to steal my credit card information! I’ll just do it as an online order.”

(The customer proceeds to put in an online order with her phone. Ten minutes later, her order has not yet come through, despite both my manager and I checking the kiosk repeatedly. My manager goes to the bathroom and is gone for a total of one minute and thirty seconds. During that time, the customer brings her four-year-old daughter up to me and screams:)

Customer: “If and when those photos finally come in, you can throw them out. I’m taking my business somewhere else. I’ve been waiting for these photos for thirty minutes! This is absolutely ridiculous! That [racial slur] of a manager promised me that they would be ready instantly. I’m leaving and never coming back!”

Me: “Ma’am, I heard her tell you that it could take up to an hour, and I heard you agree to this. Are you sure I can’t take a phone number and call you when they’re ready?”

Customer: “No! Throw them out. I’m going elsewhere.”

(As they are leaving her daughter turns around and says:)

Daughter: “We’re going to [Direct Competitor].”

(Her photos were ready seconds after she left. There were over 300 photos and we had to just throw them away.)