It’s Halloween and I’m walking home from work through a part of town known for its fancy stores.

I’m dressed in surgical scrubs and running shoes, with my work ID on a lanyard around my neck the way hospital employees wear theirs, and sprayed with fake blood.

A random woman, well-dressed and in her forties, stops me, and asks if I’m a surgeon. I tell her no. She then starts to talk to me about her medical problems.

Lady, seriously?

(I am working the hotel lobby very late at night, around two am. I hear some noise outside, so I go to investigate. I see a police car with a young-looking officer leading a young, disheveled woman inside. The young woman is dressed in a too-small, revealing mini dress. The officer tells her something and she responds, and he drives off. The young woman enters. I can see that she has some scratches and cuts on her, but nothing very serious.)

Me: “Hi. Can I help you?”

Young Woman: “I need a room.”

Me: “Certainly. Can I have an ID and Credit card?”

(She gives them to me. Her ID is hers, but the credit card is not.)

Me: “Excuse me, ma’am? Do you have a credit card that’s under your name?”

Young Woman: “It’s my mom’s.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but your mother must be here, or we have to have signed permission from her to use her credit card.”

Young Woman: *gets huffy* “Seriously? I was beaten up by my boyfriend tonight and I really need to place to stay! I can’t stay at his place, understand? He beat me up!” *shows me scratches on her arm* “My mom can tell you that her card can be used over the phone!” *dials*

Me: *repeating* “I’m sorry for your troubles, ma’am, but again, we have to have written consent from her, or she must be here.”

(She argued with me a bit more, insisting that I take her payment, and then finally stalked out angrily, in the middle of the night, wearing next to nothing, cursing me out. Thanks, officer, whoever you are, for dumping her on me and taking off! That’s really professional.)

(I work at a chain retail store where we do basic services on cars, such as oil and tire changes. I am finishing closing up the shop and am in the back room taking a break when my coworker from the sales floor part of our department walks up to me. She hands me a copy of the paperwork of a completed service on a customer’s car. Typically if a customer calls back with a complaint, my supervisor writes the complaint down on the paperwork. This particular note is on the paperwork for an oil change that came with topping off the customer’s vehicle fluids, including washer fluid. I have to do a double-take and read it again to make sure I’m not going crazy.)

Paperwork: “Customer called back saying they tasted their washer fluid and it tasted like water. Will return tomorrow.”

(It doesn’t end there. She comes back fully expecting to get her money back because she thought we put water in her washer fluid reservoir. Instead, my manager gives her a free bottle of washer fluid.)

Manager: “Don’t trust the washer fluid we put in there? Have a whole bottle of it; drink it all, if you want!”

(The customer left angry, speeding out so fast she nearly hit someone who was trying to back out. The customer was young and pregnant. One of my other coworkers joked that her baby is gonna come out with a blood type of 5W-30.)

(I’m watching a guy in front of me in line during this one. He’s wearing cargo pants, with tons of pockets.)

Cashier: “…and that will be $27.10.”

Customer: “Sure. Hold on.”

(He proceeds to reach into his pocket and comes up with a wallet.)

Customer: “Wait, wrong one.”

(He puts the wallet back, reaches into another pocket, and comes up with a second wallet.)

Customer: “Nope. That’s not it, either.”

(He puts that wallet back and retrieves yet another wallet.)

Customer: “S***. Give me one more second.”

(The guy then goes through two more wallets before finding the correct one, completing his purchase, and leaving the store as if nothing has happened. I am now looking at the cashier.)

Cashier: *looking at me bug-eyed* “Am I the only one who has no idea what just happened?”

Me: “I have so many questions.”

(Certainly something you don’t see every day!)

(I served a customer half an hour ago, and while I am serving another customer, she comes stomping up to me, receipt in hand.)

Customer: “What’s this?”

Me: “A receipt?”

Customer: “YES! And do you know where it was?”

Me: “Did I serve you?”

Customer: “DUH!”

Me: “I either gave it to you or put it in your bag.”

Customer: “The latter! And now I’ve just spent the last half an hour turning my car over looking for it! What kind of service is this where you hide your customer’s receipts from them?”

Me: “Madam, I always ask if you want the receipt in your bag before handing everything over. If it was in your bag, you would have answered for it to be put there.”

Customer: “This is absolutely disgraceful. I’m tempted to put in a complaint about you! What would’ve happened if I had lost it?!”

Me: “I can see your customer number on the receipt, so all we would have to do is scan your membership card and pull up the appropriate transaction saved to it.”

Customer: “You save all that?”

Me: “Just the items and method of payment, for auditing and returns without receipt.”

Customer: “Oh, my God!” *sprints down the full length of the store and out the front door in a mad panic, screaming about the government stealing her identity*

Current Customer: *turning to me* “What the f*** was that?”

Me: *shrugs and continues with the transaction*