I am a cashier at a big box retail store. I have clocked out of an eight-hour shift, exhausted during the Christmas season, and changed into my normal-people street clothes — jeans and a hoodie — not the dress code dress pants and shirt.

A customer recognizes me and flags me down.

Customer: “You! Help me!”

Me: “I apologize, but I am off my shift and another associate will assist you.”

She grabs my arm and digs her nails into me! If I wasn’t wearing long sleeves I think she would have broken skin.

Customer: *Screaming* “I’ve been standing here waiting for you because I saw you walking into the staff room! Now that you’re here, you’re going to help me!”

I just look at my arm and back to her.

Me: “Ma’am, unhand my body or I will ask my manager to call the police.”

She loosens her grip but doesn’t let go, and instead, she tries tugging me towards the cash registers.

Customer: “The lines are too long! I’m not waiting! You’re head cashier, so do your job!”

Since I have to be bag-searched at the exit near the registers, I allow this deranged woman to pull me towards them. She pushes me behind a register where I then pick up the phone that pages for a manager.

Me: “Available manager to till four, please.”

The woman is busy unloading her basket on the counter. The manager comes over and I open my backpack; they peek inside.

Me: *Smiling* “Okay, see you tomorrow!”

I then walked out to catch my bus.

The next day, my manager told me that the customer screamed for fifteen minutes about how I needed to be fired for my lack of customer service skills. I got written up because that particular manager hated me, but it was worth it to know that the woman could have waited in line for eight minutes and been out of the store instead of spending thirty minutes trying to beat the system.

Related:
Off The Clock, Customer Block, Part 2
Off The Clock, Customer Block

It is December and holiday parties are in full swing. I’m working at the front desk at my hotel. A couple in their mid-twenties comes to the desk.

Male Guest: “Can you tell us how to get to our holiday party?”

Me: “Sure, which party are you going to?”

Male Guest: “Um…” *Looks at his wife.*

Female Guest: “Don’t look at me. Ask her; she should know!”

The male guest just looks at me.

Me: “I know of five parties within the immediate area; which are you going to?”

Both of them look at me like I’m stupid.

Male Guest: “The one that had something to do with a boat.”

Me: “There are three parties tonight with a boat in their name. Which one are you looking for?”

Male Guest: “Um…”

He starts looking at his phone. His wife is still looking at me like I’m an idiot.

Me: “There is the party boat in the river right behind us.”

I point behind me towards the river.

Me: “There is the paddle boat pub next door.”

I point to my right.

Me: “And the seafood restaurant—” *with “boat” in its name* “—is down this hall.”

Both just walked away. 

Dude, I work in a hotel in the downtown core at Christmas. There are literally parties everywhere.

I am assisting a patient’s family member over the phone at the specialty clinic where I work. It is the holiday season, so I have been very busy with work and family, plus on this day I have a cold and am very tired. While I’m definitely not chipper, I also don’t have an attitude; I just sound like a tired, congested person.

The call begins with the person sounding annoyed about a procedure we told the patient they needed to have, but I explain why and answer the questions they have. At the end of the call, I get this gem, in a sing-songy kind of voice.

Patient’s Family Member: “Okay, thank you! Be happy; it’s your job!”

This story was told to me by my mother when I was older, but she still laughs about it today. 

When I was eighteen months old, I had my front four teeth removed due to an underlying condition. This occurs a few months later, after I have begun to learn how to speak. My grandma is watching me for the day, and one of our outings for the day is to take my uncle to work.

We are heading down the Trans-Canada Highway, which is always populated by semi-trucks. I am fascinated with these massive trucks and start pointing at them. Unfortunately, my uncle and grandma are having a conversation, and I am upset that they aren’t paying attention to me. After some time, this happens:

Me: “Gan’na!”

Grandma: “Hold on a second, [My Name]; your uncle and I are talking.”

Me: “But Gan’na!”

Grandma: *Sighs* “What is it?”

I point to a large car carrier that is carrying a bunch of pick-up trucks.

Me: “Look! F***s!”

My grandma gasps and my uncle bursts into laughter.

Grandma: “[My Name]! Where did you hear that word?!”

Me: “F***s?”

Grandma: “No! Stop saying that! You say it again and there will be no more Barney!”

Uncle: *Through tears and his cackles of laughter* “Mom, he’s saying, ‘Trucks’! He has no teeth, remember?!”

Grandma: “He shouldn’t be saying that dirty, filthy word!”

Uncle: “He can’t help it if he doesn’t have any teeth!”

Luckily, I went to speech therapy when I was old enough, and even though I still sometimes have a slight lisp and have to think about how to say a word before speaking, at least I don’t call trucks “F***s” anymore.

I’m a part-time employee at a dollar store, I’m seventeen, and this is my first time working during the Christmas season. I’ve heard plenty of stories from my coworkers and managers about difficult customers in this season.

Naturally, I’m worried about getting a bad customer, so I’m trying to be extra nice. A customer comes up to my till with two cans of soda; they’re $1.40 together. I go to grab the cans but he holds out his hand to give me his change first.

Me: *Super happy voice* “Oh, I’m sorry. I need to scan these through first.”

Customer: *Super aggressively, and angrily* “No, you don’t!”

Me: “Uh… um… I… What?”

I am super confused and kind of scared, since I really don’t want to get yelled at. The customer waits a second, and then breaks and laughs.

Customer: “I’m just messing with ya, a joke.”

Me: *Still shaken up* “Oh, um, okay.”

I then scan the cans through and give him his total. As he hands me some change, the customer tells me:

Customer: “You really need to learn to take a joke.”

Me: “I’m sorry.” *Still very confused*

The customer then leaves, but as he gets to the door he turns back and says:

Customer: “You really do need a sense of humor.” 

Sorry for not finding being scared funny?!