Eleven or twelve years ago, I lived in a small basement apartment. On the same floor, near my apartment, there was a washer and dryer for the residents to use.

My new neighbor, living in the apartment above mine, was a young student, about eighteen years old. When he used the washing machine the first time, I kept hearing weird noises I had never heard coming from the machine. I went to check on it because if something went wrong with one of the machines I relied on for my clothes, it could end up being my problem.

As soon as I opened my door, I noticed a strange smell coming from the washer like something was starting to burn. I opened the lid and saw that the machine was crammed with clothes and towels. It was so full, it could not even spin, and there was not much water in it. I unplugged the machine to try and stop the damage and called my landlord who lived nearby.

When she saw how crammed the machine was, she got mad at me. I reminded her that I was not the one who did this; I only called her to inform her of the problem since my neighbor who caused the problem was gone. I helped her empty the machine and we filled two garbage bags with clothes and towels, leaving about a normal load.

Just before she could plug the machine back in, she saw my upstairs neighbor entering the building. She called him over and asked him if the clothes in the machine were his. He said yes and he asked why she took them out of the machine, as if the smell coming from it was not a clue enough!

I don’t remember exactly what she told him, but she was practically screaming at him. It turns out he had never used a washing machine before moving out of his parents’ home, but he could have at least looked at the instructions printed on the inside of the lid that clearly explained the point to which you could fill the machine with clothes.

Many weeks after this, he was still mad at me for calling the landlord, even though he did not have to pay for any repairs because the machine worked fine after that. He even told me that it would not have been the end of the world to go to his parents’ house to get his clothes washed while the machine was broken. It clearly did not even cross his mind that it could inconvenience other people besides him.

I’m the customer in this story. I went to [Popular Big Box Store Chain] location a few weeks ago and purchased two pairs of jeans. I stupidly tried on one pair at the store but not the other, assuming that they would both be fine since they were the same size, even though they were different brands. Sure enough, when I get home, the pair I haven’t tried on is way too big.

I return to the store location to return the larger pair and am directed by a staff member to the returns counter at the back of the store. Since it is a Saturday, it is fairly busy and there are a lot of people ahead of me in line for the returns desk. The desk is being staffed by two store employees processing customer returns, with another employee acting as a “runner” returning sellable product back out to the sales floor. Since I have a bit of a wait, I get to see the customers returning their items ahead of me.

One older gentleman is a few places ahead of me and finally makes it to the returns desk.

Gentleman: “I’d like to return a pair of pants. Here is the receipt.” 

Employee: “Okay, where are the pants, sir?”

Gentleman: “They’re the ones I’m wearing.”

Employee: “You’re wearing them?! You have to give them back to return them, sir!”

Gentleman: “Well, I’ll get another pair. I just don’t like this pair. I’d like to return them.”

Employee: “I guess if you find another pair we can exchange them… but we can’t just give you money back without taking the old pair, and we can’t have you stand around in the store in your underwear!”

Eventually, the desk employee gets the runner involved to take the gentleman to the section and assist him so that he can find another pair to replace the old ones.

I watch the remaining people in line ahead of me make their way to the desk, hoping I end up with the same employee who helped the older man. Fortunately, the timing works out.

Me: “I’d like to return this pair of pants—” *pause* “—that I’m not wearing.”

Employee: *Laughs*

After reading Not Always Right, I have decided that I won’t stand by if I witness other customers acting terribly to employees. This story is my first act of courage to that effect.

I’m in line at a popular fast food joint when an angry customer walks past the line and slams a burger container on the counter.

Customer: *Yelling* “I said no pickles!” 

Employee: *Shocked* “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I said no f****** pickles, and you put a pickle on my food!”

Employee: “Sorry about that. I’ll get it remade for you. What do you want on it?”

Smart to ask, to be sure there aren’t other specific requests.

Customer: “Are you that stupid?! I want a new burger with no pickles! And get your manager, I’m going to report you!”

I cut into his rant.

Me: “Why? Do you need to prove to some more people that you’re a jerk?” 

Customer: “What did you say?”

Me: “I mean, you’ve already proven it to everyone here.”

I gesture to the employees and us in the line.

Me: “Do you need a manager to put it on paper to make it official?”

Unfortunately, this story doesn’t end with cheers or the jerk customer slinking back. He started shouting at me as well as the employees now. I left with my hands shaking because I don’t like confrontation. I could hear him continuing as I walked away.

I’m a cashier at a large grocery store. I’m ringing through a middle-aged man and his son, who is around my age: early twenties.

Father: “So, do you like working here? Is it a good job?”

Me: “It’s not a bad job. Some days are better than others, of course.”

Father: “And how much money do you make here?”

Me: *Slightly confused* “A little over ten dollars an hour?”

Father: “TEN DOLLARS AN HOUR?! Holy crap!” *Turns to his son* “She makes TEN DOLLARS AN HOUR! That’s way more than you make; you don’t make anything! You should get a job here!” *Pauses* “Better yet, just marry her!” *Back to me* “Will you marry my son?”

Me: “Umm…”

Father: “Because he really needs money and you make ten dollars an hour!”

I upgrade laptop computers for civil servants. When I took the work, I had this image of public sector employees being rude and entitled and was delighted when the opposite turned out to be true. I had never met so many people delighted to be of help.

It was too good to last. The rot set in slowly, with people doing exceptionally human things. Not reading important information. Panicking because they hadn’t read the information.

My most recent shift begins with two clients who want things done their way. I don’t have that kind of authority. I get handed a work order, and I’m prohibited from helping anyone until I have that paperwork.

Me: “Hello, I’m [My Name]. I’m here to upgrade your laptop.”

[Client #2] starts raising her hands and waving them frantically.

Client #1: “You’ll have to come back when I’m finished with this.”

Me: “Can you tell me when that might be?”

Client #1: “I really couldn’t say.”

[Client #2] continues to wave her hands, still sitting at her cubicle.

Me: *To [Client #2]* “Did you want something, ma’am?”

Client #2: “I need to take my computer home for the evening.”

Me: “That’s fine, go ahead. But if it’s not there, we don’t know when the upgrade will happen.”

Client #2: “Okay, wow, I’m just telling you. I can’t be at my desk tomorrow; I have to take this computer home.”

Me: “That’s fine. I’ll just tell the coordinator that.”

Client #2: “But I need a computer tomorrow. I guess it’ll have to be this one.”

I finally figure out that she thinks I can just give her the laptop I’m carrying. That’s not so. Each laptop is configured with the software the client is authorized to have, and every one so far has been different; there’s no “standard.” I haven’t told [Client #2] yet that I can’t do anything for her at all until I or another of our team is assigned her work order.

Me: “And that’s fine.”

Client #2: “Can’t you upgrade my computer now?”

Me: “Well, that takes about an hour, and—”

Client #2: “That’s fine. I’ll just wait until it’s done, and then I can go home.”

There were all sorts of reasons that was not going to work, and the paperwork was the least of them. I’m not in any sense a team lead, but we try to be as helpful as we can. If I got her details, I could ask my coordinator if he could dispatch a team member specifically with her paperwork. So, I got what my coordinator will need.

With the benefit of hindsight, I should have explained to [Client #2] immediately that every client is assigned a team member specifically, because when I got called away, [Client #2] was kind of huffy about it. When I came back a few minutes later, the team member who was assigned to her had arrived.