(I notice a guy apparently harassing a customer and asking for money, so I try to intercede.)

Guy: “Just give me one euro!”

Me: “Excuse me, sir, but you can’t ask for money here.”

Guy: “It’s just one euro; as soon as I get it I’ll go away.” *to the customer* “Give me one euro!”

Me: “Listen, you really can’t do this. He doesn’t even speak your language.”

Guy: “Just one euro! Give me one euro!”

Me: “Okay, that’s enough. I don’t really care if you ask for the euro outside, but you can’t be doing this here.”

Guy: *looks at me, walks away until he’s at the door but just outside of the store, puts his hands over his mouth like a megaphone, and starts yelling at the customer* “GIVE ME ONE EURO!”

(When I was a teenager I had two fillings put into separate back molars. The dentist didn’t wait until I was properly numb to do it, and both of them ended up coming out within the next few days while I was just watching TV. My family wasn’t exactly the best and didn’t believe me when I told them they came out, so I didn’t go back. Fast-forward to about a year ago. I’m out on a date, and I bite down with one of the teeth and the whole thing shatters into five pieces. I make an emergency appointment with the only dentist in town that can take me on such short notice — the dentist from before — and suffer for a day or two until I go in. When the dentist comes in and asks me why I’m there, I tell her about the tooth being shattered. She visibly rolls her eyes at my expense and takes a look, only to freeze in shock.)

Dentist: “Oh! It’s actually shattered. You know, that happens when you don’t get your cavities filled.”

Me: “I’d had it filled before, but it wasn’t done right and came out the next day. I was under eighteen, and my family wouldn’t bring me back.”

Dentist: “And you didn’t eat anything you weren’t supposed to?”

Me: “No, it wasn’t my first filling, and I followed the instructions.”

Dentist: “Well, whoever did the filling obviously didn’t know what they were doing.”

Me: “Well, you’re not too far off the mark, since you’re the one who did it.”

(She suddenly remembered me and actually looked embarrassed. She never apologized, but she was extra careful with explaining my options and giving me a crown — making sure I was properly numb this time — and when I went to pay, she’d knocked down the price a bit. This isn’t the only horrible story I have about her, but this was the last time I let her work on me. I’m glad we finally got a new practice in town and I can go somewhere else.)

(My neighbor and I have a long-seeded history of hate for one another. It started with her giving me snarky remarks about weaning my son from his bottle at ten months old and escalated from there. I am sitting on my other neighbor’s deck, just talking to [Neighbor #1]. The neighbor I do not like, [Neighbor #2], walks up and just butts into the conversation. My husband starts bringing my son over so I call out:)

Me: “Yay, here comes [Son]!”

(His name happens to be the same name as the kid from “The Omen.”)

Neighbor #2: “Oh, lord! Please tell me that’s not your child’s name! Don’t take this the wrong way, but anyone with the name ‘[Son]’ belongs in Hell with all the demons and Satan himself! I knew a ‘[Son]’ once and he was the absolute worst person I have ever met in my life! You’ve condemned your child to a life of Hell! He will rot in Hell with the rest of his kind.”

(I was absolutely the maddest I have ever been, but I somehow worked up the strength to walk away. She told me my two-year-old son belonged in Hell with Satan just because of his name, and I wasn’t supposed to take that the wrong way?)

(I work at a call center with a major cell phone carrier.)

Me: “Good afternoon. My name is [My Name]; how can I help you today?”

Caller: “Do you like sex?”

Me: *pregnant pause*

Caller: “Hello? Hello are you there? I ask you a question. Do you like sex?”

(I flag down a manager, as we’re not allowed to hang up until we notify a supervisor our “customer” is being abusive. Meanwhile, my mouth is going on to fill the space because every call is recorded, and they watch the audio readouts for gaps of silence.)

Me: “Sir, I will only ask you once not to talk to me that way.”

Low-Level Supervisor: *overhearing, looks at me in shock, and frantically runs to get an actual manager*

Caller: “I only ask you a simple question. Hello? Hello? Did you hear me? I just want to know if you like the sex.” *continues in the same vein, much more explicitly, with an eerily innocent tone*

Manager: “[My Name], is he being nasty?”

Me: *while muting myself on the phone* “Yes. Yes, he is. May I please hang up?”

Manager: “Yes! Yes! I thought you did already!”

Me: “Thank you! No one said I could yet.”

Caller: “Hello, are you still there? Do you want to sex with—”

Me: *hangs up*

(I work in a drive-thru at a fast food store.)

Customer: “I would like a bacon egg burger.”

Me: “Was that a bacon and egg muffin?”

Customer: “Yes, but add tomato and ketchup.”

Me: “Okay, that’s $4.95. Please drive forward.”

(The customer pays, gets his muffin, and then drives away. He comes back through the drive-thru about five minutes later.)

Customer: “Excuse me. I ordered a f****** bacon egg burger, and you gave me this s***.”

Me: “I’m sorry. You ordered a bacon egg muffin with tomato and ketchup. What’s wrong with it?”

Customer: “I just wanted a burger.”

Me: “So, a hamburger with bacon, egg, and tomato?”

Customer: “Yes, just give me my f****** burger.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll get that out to you.”

(He gets his burger and drives away, but he’s soon back in my drive-thru.)

Customer: “How f****** hard is it to make me a f****** burger?”

(I’m tired of his ranting.)

Me: “So, exactly what do you want?”

Customer: “A f****** bacon egg burger.”

Me: “Yes, but what exactly on the burger and what bun?”

Customer: “A normal bun with bacon, egg, burger, tomato, and ketchup.”

Me: “Right, I’ll get that to you.”

(I then go make a quarter-pound burger with no cheese added, bacon, egg, and tomato, with ketchup, worth double his original payment.)

Me: “There you are; just so you know, next time you order just say that you want a quarter po—”

Customer: “I don’t give a f*** what I say; you should know what I want!” *drives away*