(I’m working at the register. This customer is next in line. Among his groceries is an empty jar of yoghurt. I look at the customer.)

Customer: “I ate it in the store.”

Me: “That’s not the way you should do it, sir. You have to pay for it first.”

Customer: “Oh, you can me charge for it, of course.”

(I have a look of bewilderment on my face.)

Me: “Ohhhh, I intended to do that, sir.”

(I am a cashier at a large grocery and department chain. I am still relatively new. A customer is buying some groceries. I scan their items, but come across two half-empty sixteen-packs of Gatorade.)

Customer: “We wanted both the blue and red ones, but wanted to try and split them. Can we do that?”

Me: “So, you took a red Gatorade sixteen-pack, and a blue Gatorade sixteen-pack, and took half of the bottles out of both of them… and you want to pay for the price of one?”

Customer: “Yes.”

(I was skeptical, but I asked my manager, and of course he said no. I took the Gatorade bottles later to return them to the shelves. My manager stated they probably just left the other half sitting on the shelf.)

My mother and I were waiting for the bus, sitting in a picnic-style table, and I went inside the bus station. When I came back, my mother was arguing with some man, and he was gesturing lewdly at his crotch and giving us the middle finger.

When I asked my mother what had happened, she told me that the man was about to smoke near her, and she asked politely that he go smoke a little ways away, because she has asthma.

That apparently didn’t sit well with him, and he was very rude. She snapped at him at some point and told him to go to h***.

Apparently, he started feeling remorse, as he bought some candy from the store inside and threw them at our table.

(I take a bathroom break, and my supervisor tells me I have one minute. Twenty seconds after I get in the stall, another employee enters the bathroom and to use the urinal. Five seconds later, the bathroom door again opens.)

Supervisor: “Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven…”

(The supervisor leaves.)

Other Employee: *whose voice I recognize as the supervisor of the receiving department* “What was that about?”

Me: “He told me I have a minute.”

(The receiving supervisor leaves, and then I finish up, wash my hands, and head back to the sales floor. The way the store is set up, to go from the employee bathroom to the sales floor you have to pass by the store manager’s office.)

Manager: “[My Name], can I see you for a minute?”

Me: “Sure, what about?”

Manager: “Did [Supervisor] tell you that you only had a minute to use the bathroom?”

Me: “Yes.”

Manager: “Okay, that’s all I needed to know. Go back to work.”

(I head back out onto the floor, and from there the parking lot to gather carriages. As I walk out the front door of the store, a coworker’s radio crackles to life.)

Manager: “[Supervisor], can I see you in my office?”

(Five minutes later I saw another supervisor, who I know lives around the corner and is supposed to have the day off, get out of her car and head into the store. Ten minutes after that, the first supervisor left the store, gave me a death glare, got in his car, and tore a** out of the parking lot… only to get pulled over by a state trooper for running the red light at the parking lot exit. When I got back inside, I learned he had been fired, and later that year I learned the incident with me was the straw that broke the camel’s back; he had been harassing several employees for the past year, but this was the first time it was witnessed by another supervisor.)

(I work for an airline and am currently operating a busy flight. This takes place during trolley service. There are two children that have been running up and down the cabin and literally pushing the trolley to get past.)

Me: “One second, guys. Let me finish pouring this hot drink, and then you can squeeze past.”

(The kids scuttle off to their mum, who then comes down herself.)

Mother: “Excuse me! Is there a reason my kids aren’t allowed past the trolley?!”

Me: “Yes, madam. I was pouring a cup of tea, and if they pushed it, then boiling water would have spilled all over me and the gentleman I was serving. They are more than welcome to pass now, if they would like.”

Mother: “Everyone else has been allowed past!”

Me: “Not while I’ve been pouring. Plus, your children have been chasing each other up and down the cabin for the past twenty-five minutes, pushing past the trolley and other passengers standing in the aisle. If there was a problem, someone would have spoken to you before.

Mother: “I’ve paid for their f****** seats!”

Me: “Then might I suggest that they sit in them?”

Mother: “You’ve got a f****** attitude problem! What’s your name? I’m f****** reporting you!”

(I have a very common name that is shortened to something that, while a bit unusual, is not that odd.)

Me: [Nickname]. Pretty sure I am the only one at this company, but just in case, that’s spelt with two S’s. You just need that and the flight number.”

Mother: “That is a f****** ridiculous name. That’s not real. Why are you lying to me? What’s that f****** short for? What kind of parents would give you that name? F****** h***!”

Me: “It’s on my name badge. You can have my birth name, but I am known in the company by [Nickname], and there are at least fifty crew members with my actual name, so [Nickname] is much easier to identify me personally to management.”

(The mother stormed off to the area of the cabin where my senior was working, still screaming obscenities, shouting about my ridiculous name, and claiming she “wanted compensation for how THAT spoke to her.” The kids looked a bit bemused and ran back to their seats, where they then stayed for the rest of the flight. She did eventually write in about my “stupid name” which made everyone in the office chuckle. As far as I’m concerned, everybody won, minus those poor kids!)

This story is part of our Terrible Airline Passengers roundup!

Read the next Terrible Airline Passengers roundup story!

Read the Terrible Airline Passengers roundup!