(I work in a home furnishings shop in a town in the Bible Belt. We’ve just opened for the day, and while it’s slow, I am helping set up new seasonal displays with my manager. A coworker comes over after a couple customers leave that area of the store.)

Coworker: “Hey, [Manager], I think we ought to put the chalk away.”

(My manager looks over and does a double-take.)

Manager: “We’re going to very quietly clean that off before any of the customers notice.”

(A customer had written, “Hail Satan,” and drawn an upside-down cross on one of our chalkboard products, and then left it in a prominent spot where people would see it.)

(I am 21 and one of the managers at a supermarket. I have just gotten off my shift, changed into my normal clothes, and gone into the store to buy some things I need. I notice one of our regulars, a middle-aged woman. She has two of her young grandchildren with her. In the corner of my eye, I see her grab a pallet jack and begin pushing around her grandchildren on it.)

Me: *too shocked to realise that I’m not in my normal clothes* “I’m sorry, but you can’t use the pallet jack to play with.”

Customer: *visibly angry* “Excuse you?!”

Me: *realising I’m in my normal clothes* “Oh, I’m so sorry, but I work here, and I’m afraid I can’t let you use that pallet jack to play with. It’s not safe for children.”

Customer: “I’ll have you know that I have nine grandchildren, little girl.”

Me: “Congratulations! That must be amazing, but I’m still going to take that pallet jack to the back storage. It shouldn’t have been out here in the first place, and I apologise for that.”

(She just gives me a vicious look as I take the pallet jack from her and take it into the storage. Further into the store, the customer walks by me again.)

Customer: *loudly, to her grandchildren* “Look! There she is, the poor little girl, such a poor little girl.”

(I just shrug and continue with my shopping. Finally, I reach the cash registers. The customer is there with her grandchildren, and apparently there is some trouble up there, as well, as she is yelling at the cashier.)

Customer: “I want to speak to the manager!”

Coworker: *who she is yelling at* “I’m the evening manger.”

Customer: “Well, then, I want to speak to your boss!”

Coworker: “Of course. She is standing right there.” *points to me*

Me: *puts on my most charming smile and walks up* “Hi again! What can I help you with?”

Customer: *bright red in the face* “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

(She doesn’t say another word while she is in the store, and basically just runs after she has paid.)

Coworker: “I’m so sorry for dragging you into that, but she was horrible.”

Me: “No worries at all. In fact, you made my day!”

(The customer came back many times, but she never could look me in the eyes again. All in all, a very Swedish way of dealing with confrontation.)

(I am the only one working the ticket counter on a very slow weekday evening at a movie theater. I get a phone call from an elderly woman who does not know how to use the Internet, and needs me to look up tomorrow’s show times and read them to her over the phone. I’ve switched my monitor to read her tomorrow’s movies and times when a woman storms into our lobby and comes directly up to me.)

Customer: “Get off the phone!”

Me: *to the guest on the phone* “I… Er, excuse me one moment, ma’am—”

Customer: “I said, off the phone! One ticket for [Movie], next showing.”

Elderly Woman: “Wait. I just need to know one more thing: will your show times be the same on Thursday?”

Me: “Our movie times change daily. I’m sorry, ma’am, I need to put you on hold for—”

Customer: “I am a guild member! Get off the phone and serve the customer in front of you!”

(She reaches over the counter and presses the button on the phone to hang it up.)

Me: *somewhat flustered, as I’ve never had a customer this rude before* “You said [Movie]? The next showing? Where would you like to sit?”

Customer: “Ugh, I hate this new assigned seating. I will be complaining to your bosses about this.”

(She jabs the screen selecting a seat, at least.)

Me: *staying polite and as pleasant as possible* “You said you were a guild member; could I see your card for the discount, please?”

Customer: *literally throws the card in my face with a flick of her wrist, so it smacks into my cheek* “Hurry up. The movie will start soon. My ticket will be free, too. Run the card. I don’t pay for movies; I’m a member.”

(I retrieve the card from the counter, and run the card so she can get her discount. The ticket and receipt print out, and I offer them both to her.)

Me: “Your ticket, ma’am.”

Customer: “It’s about time!”

(She snatches both from my hand, and storms off. It’s not until moments later I realize my register is still set for tickets for the next day, because of the phone call I was taking. She will end up having to sit in the theater for an hour before the movie starts, IF she manages to find the correct theatre, which she must do because she doesn’t come back out again during my shift. I do enjoy the little bit of unintentional Karma, though. I also realize moments later that I have forgotten to give her her guild card back. I flag down my manager and tell him what happened.)

Me: “So, that woman who came in earlier threw this at my face, and I was so shocked I forgot to give it back to her.”

Manager: “What? She threw it at you? Actually?”

Me: “Yeah. Bounced off my face and everything.”

Manager: “Well. We’ll just put this in the lost in found for her, then.” *dumps the card into the nearest trash can* “After all, we definitely want to keep her as a customer.” *rolls his eyes angrily*

(I work in an assisted living facility. Today we’re getting a new resident. This resident has a short, but easy-to-misspell last name, so my coworker uses her version of the phonetic alphabet over the phone to tell me how it’s spelled. For the purpose of anonymity, we’ll say the name is Hasc.)

Coworker: “Okay, it’s H as in ‘H***,’ A as in ‘A**,’ S as in ‘S***,’ C as in ‘C***.’”

Me: *laughing like an idiot* “Really, [Coworker]?”

Coworker: “Hey, you’ll never forget it!”

(I have PTSD from being in a severe car accident as a child that resulted in a traumatic brain injury. I am mostly recovered and normal as an adult. I prefer to have my wife drive on days when my PTSD is acting up. There’s just this one thing: when she’s driving and sneezes, she grips the wheel with a death grip, shuts her eyes tight, and shakes the wheel side-to-side, making the whole vehicle move side-to-side on the road. This is brown-pants-level terrifying for me. She thinks I’m being a baby about it. We have a dumb fight over it, and then get over it. The next week her parents are in town. Her father is driving us somewhere and he’s driving way above the speed limit. Suddenly, he sneezes, and in doing so, grips and shakes the wheel violently, which causes the vehicle to suddenly merge into a different lane.)

Wife: *with terror in her eyes* “Sorry about last week. You were right.”