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!

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(My friends and I have decided to spend our Saturday night at our favourite bar. Because I’m the designated driver, I’m sticking to a soda. I’ve left my half-finished drink on my table to go dancing. I figure that it’ll be safe, because one of my friends is staying at the table. When I get back, my glass is completely empty.)

Me: “What the h***? What happened to my soda?”

Friend: *grinning* “You know that creepy guy that’s always hanging around, waiting for other people to leave their drinks unattended so that he can finish them?”

Me: “You mean he drank my soda?”

Friend: “Yup.”

Me: “Why didn’t you stop him?”

Friend: “Because he was obviously hoping that it was alcoholic. He looked really peeved that it was only soda.”

Me: “Well, that’s great and all, but now I’m drinkless.”

Friend: “I’ll buy you another one. It was worth it just to see his face.”

(I don’t know if the creepy guy changed his ways after that, but he never tried to steal one of my drinks again, anyway.)

(I get a call from a lady who is very upset about some photos she sent to be printed.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]. My name is [My Name]; how can I help you?”

Caller: “You ruined my Christmas! All of the photos I just ordered today have the heads cut off! I can’t use these as Christmas cards! I want a refund or a reprint!”

Me: “No problem. Let me look up your order real quick.” *looks up order* “I’m sorry, miss, but it seems you ordered these through our app or online. Unfortunately, if you want these to be cropped the way you want them, I’m going to need you to come into the store; we would be happy to redo them for free.”

Caller: “This is ridiculous! I don’t have time for this! I can’t believe you guys can’t do your f****** job!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but if that’s not something you would like, I’m sure my manager would be okay with us giving you a refund.”

Caller: “I don’t have time to come back to that store! I can’t believe you won’t remake them! This is ridiculous!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’d be happy to help you remake them or give you a refund. But for either one you have to be at our store.”

(After another five minutes of her screaming at me, I get my manager to talk to her.)

Manager: “Thank you for holding. How may I help you?”

(The lady is screaming through the phone the same things she has told me already.)

Manager: “I’m so sorry that this happened. I would be willing to help you remake them or give you a full refund if you come back in.”

(The lady on the phone is now screaming so loud I can hear from next to my manager.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but unfortunately, unless you’re present in our store, I can’t give you a refund or remake your photos.”

(This continues for a good ten minutes.)

Manager: “Ma’am, what would you like us to do for you?”

(The lady is still screaming something about how we can’t do our jobs correctly.)

Manager: “Ma’am, what would you like us to do for you? I’ve given you your two choices; if you’re not satisfied with that then I can give you our 1-800 number.”

(The lady continues to scream at her for not being helpful.)

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but if you’re going to continue to scream at me then I’m going to have to hang up. I’ve given you your two choices in what we can do for you. If you’re not satisfied, then you can call our 1-800 number and leave a complaint.”

(The lady continues to scream at her.)

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but that’s all I can do. I’m going to hang up now.”

(The lady continues to scream.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m going to hang up now. We hope to see you in soon. Have a good day.”

(The manager hangs up phone.)

Me: “Wow… she was not happy.”

Manager: “She said she was driving on her way to our store, anyway. Guess it wasn’t too much of an issue for her to come over. I’m just glad I don’t have to talk to her anymore.”