(My daughter and son are young, and we live in a house that has two very damp bedrooms. I find it best to put both kids in the third bedroom that doesn’t have a damp problem, as I am worried for their health; my eldest has asthma and the youngest has allergies. Some friends and I are discussing our houses. I mention the damp problem and what I have to do to stop the kids from getting sick.)

Friend: “You have a boy and girl sharing a room; that’s disgusting.”

Me: “What?”

Friend: “A boy and girl in the same room; it’s unnatural.”

Me: “What do you mean, ‘unnatural’?”

Friend: “What if they do something?”

Me: “Do what?”

Friend: “You know, do unnatural things together; it’s a temptation for them.”

Other Friend: “What the f***? They are three and six years old; what are they going to do?”

Friend: “It’s disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Me: “I don’t think so. I’m trying to keep both kids healthy until our lease is up and we can move.”

Friend: “It’s not right.”

(And with that, she walked off and never spoke to me again. Didn’t miss her one bit.)

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(My friend and I are walking down the street when an old man suddenly collapses in front of us.)

Me: “Sir? Are you all right? SIR?!” *no answer*

Friend: “Call 911!”

Me: “On it.”

(The ambulance arrives in less than five minutes. Sadly, the old man has died. He had a massive heart attack and was probably dead before he hit the ground.)

Me: *suddenly realizing* “Wait a minute. [Friend], don’t you know CPR?”

Friend: *looking shifty* “Yes. Why?”

Me: “Why didn’t you do anything for him?”

Friend: “Because he looked gross. I didn’t want to catch anything. Besides, he was dead already; it wouldn’t have done any good, anyway.”

Me: “…”

(We’re still friends, but I lost a lot of respect for her that day.)

(I work as a monitor and head cashier at a grocery store in a state with strict alcohol laws. For this reason, the store I work in can only sell beer through a café license, which means beer can only be purchased at the café register. At the time of night this story takes place I am the only associate left in the front. I am watching the self scans when I hear the beer cashier call over the intercom:)

Cashier: “Override needed in the beer café.”

(I walk over to the café and see a notoriously difficult customer known for taking advantage of our store’s lenient return policy by “returning” stolen razors, until our policy was revised to crack down on people like her.)

Customer #1: *to boyfriend* “You know I make more than enough a week to buy this damn six-pack!”

(As she rants to her boyfriend, the cashier informs me that he is voiding the sale because her card only has enough left to cover half of the six-pack she is trying to buy. I put the void through and return to my post, hoping this will be the last I have to deal with this customer. Three minutes later:)

Customer #2: “Hi, are you [My Name]? This insane woman is over in the café trying to create a fight, and [Cashier] asked me to find you. [Customer #3] offered to pay for her beer so the rest of us could go through the line, and things went downhill from there…”

Me: *as I walk over* “Yeah, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

(As I arrive I find [Customer #1] screaming at [Customer #3] as her boyfriend hangs his head shamefully, sitting in a café booth.)

Customer #1: “You need to mind your own d*** business! I don’t need any of your d*** charity!”

(This continues for a little while longer. After she pauses, I interject:)

Me: “Ma’am, since your card wasn’t accepted, and you won’t accept her offer, I’m afraid there is nothing more we can do, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave so we can take the other customers.”

Customer #1: “FINE! I’ll just be back tomorrow after I talk to the president of my bank! I clean his bank’s floors, I’ll have you know! I know him personally!“

Customer #2: “Yeah, yeah, keep movin’!”

Customer #1: “Yeah, b—”

Customer #2: “Uh-huh, shut up and keep movin’!”

([Customer #1] finally leaves the store.)

Me: “Yep, every time she sets foot in this store it’s always something.”

(We run an adults-only holiday services. We’ve got many packages and advertise ourselves very clearly as such. No kids allowed. If people call in asking about bringing their children along, we usually give them the numbers of several family-friendly travel services that offer resorts near to ours. Most customers thank us for this. This one, however…)

Caller: “I want to book [holiday package] for [dates].”

Me: “How many people is this for?”

Caller: “Two adults and two children under the age of ten.”

Me: “Oh, sorry, none of our holiday packages accommodate children. For family holidays, can I recommend—”

Caller: “Shut up! We want to go to your resort!”

Me: “We offer adults-only destinations, so I’m afraid you will not be able to travel there with your children. There is a resort nearby that is very good and is family friendly, and I can give you the number for the travel agent—”

Caller: “SHUT UP! I KNOW THIS! I know it’s adults-only; that’s why we want to go!”

Me: “Then you understand you cannot bring your children along?”

Caller: “NO, YOU DUMB B****! That’s why we want to go! We want a nice quiet family holiday without other people’s screaming brats ruining it!”

Me: “I’m sorry, we cannot book children into this resort. The one nearby that does accept children is—”

Caller: “WELL, THEN, JUST BOOK ME AND MY HUSBAND! We’ll just turn up with the kids, as well! What would you do, then, huh? You’d have to let them stay! You couldn’t leave children on their own!”

Me: “The resort would simply not let you in, and would probably direct you to the family one nearby.”

Caller: “AND IF WE DON’T WANT TO GO THERE?! Huh? You going to throw us onto the next plane back home?”

Me: “Not personally, no, but they might.”

Caller: “Book it for me and my husband, then. We’ll just get the kids there ourselves.”

Me: “I’m not booking this for you. Our holidays are for people with no children to destinations where there will be no children.”

Caller: “Pfft, right. What kind of adult doesn’t have kids?”

Me: “Me, my husband, and most of the staff here.”

Caller: *hangs up*

(I left a note on the computer system stating to be very careful if that caller tried to book a holiday with us, since they’d threatened to drag their kids along, too. Seriously, though, who books their kids onto an international flight knowing they haven’t booked accommodation for them at the other end?!)

(A customer comes into our cell phone retail store holding a ziplock bag containing several pieces of a completely destroyed smart phone, and places the bag on the counter.)

Customer: “I need a refund.”

Coworker: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “Yesterday, [Coworker #2] put a screen protector on my phone, and when I woke up today it looked like this.”

(He gestures to the bag of phone parts.)

Coworker: *long pause* “The screen protector did this?”

Customer: “Yes. He must have loosened the screw or glue or something. Now the phone is broken and I need a refund.”

Manager: *hears and comes over* “So, you’re saying that you placed a completely whole and unbroken phone on your nightstand last night, and woke up this morning with it looking like a truck ran over it.”

Customer: “Exactly. And it’s [Coworker #2]’s fault.”

Manager: “No. That did not happen. You are not getting a refund, because you ran over your phone. I will gladly sell you a new phone, or if you have insurance, you can file a claim if this type of damage is covered.”

Customer: “NO! I WANT A F****** REFUND ON THIS PHONE!”

Manager: “Get out. Don’t swear at me. Why don’t you leave and cool off, and come back tomorrow when we can talk about this more rationally?”

Customer: “NO! I AM A VETERAN AND I HAVE PTSD; IF I COME BACK I’LL BE ARMED.”

Manager: *without breaking eye contact, picks up phone and dials 911* “Yes, hello. I am the manager at [Store]. A customer just threatened me, and my staff. Yes, he is still in the store. Yes, I think the threat was credible. I asked him to leave, and he said he would come back armed, and that he has PTSD. Great. Thank you.” *hangs up*

Customer: *staring silently* “Did you really just call the police?”

Manager: “Yeah, they are on their way.”

(After some more ranting, the customer dithered for a minute, and then turned to leave. By the time he got to the door, a police car had pulled up out front. The guy had a history of making threats. He was arrested for breach of peace, and trespassed from our store, which is the only one for about 200 miles.)