(I’m working the till on a particularly nice summer day when I notice a rather irate man coming up to the counter.)

Me: “Is there something I can help you with?”

Customer: “Uh, yes. I would like you to ask her to kindly remove herself from the store.”

(The customer points me in the direction of a woman breastfeeding her child while seated with a friend and their two children. She’s covered herself and her child with a blanket with no particular areas visible.)

Me: “So, what seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “The problem?! She’s—” *sharply whispers* “—breastfeeding!”

(He has now drawn the attention of the breastfeeding woman and her friend.)

Me: “And she has every right to.”

Customer: “Aren’t you going to do anything about this?!”

(The breastfeeding woman is now fully attentive to our conversation.)

Me: “By law, it would be illegal for me to do so. You can either accept this and enjoy your meal, or you can find the door.”

Customer: “You can’t talk to me like this! I demand to speak to a manager!”

(I call my manager in from her office and she comes out to the front.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “Your employee has been very rude to me this whole time and refuses to ask this woman to leave!”

Manager: “And what exactly did my employee say to you?”

(The irate customer gives my manager the gist of my words.)

Manager: “Good, so he’s saved me the trouble. You can either leave this poor customer be, or I can point you towards the nearest exit. Have a nice day!”

(The man’s face flushed red, and he ducked his head as he quickly moved towards the exit. The woman and her friend got their meals for free, and two $50 gift cards, as well!)

Related:
Breast To Just Support Her

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(I work in the bakery department at a large grocery store. I am a cake decorator, but I am cleaning up for the night, as the store closes in less than an hour. A customer approaches the counter with her young son.)

Customer: “Excuse me, can I ask you something?”

Me: “Sure, what’s up?”

Customer: “Yeah, if I come in tomorrow morning, will you have chocolate cakes?”

(I look up, confused, because I know that there are at least ten different types of chocolate cake on the shelf at that moment.)

Me: “That… Sorry? What kind of cake were you looking for, exactly?”

Customer: *agitated* “I just want to know if you’ll have chocolate in the morning or will you make some?!”

Me: “Well, I’m sure these cakes will still be here in the morning.”

Customer: “OH, MY GOD! That isn’t what I’m f****** asking! I want this double chocolate cake. I want to know if it will be here in the morning.”

Me: “Oh, you mean the chocolate lovers. Well, I doubt it will sell by the end of the night, so it should be here in the morning. But I can’t guarantee that, technically.”

Customer: *now yelling everything at me* “Okay, you need to listen to me! Jesus! Will it be here in the morning and will you make another one?!”

Me: “All of our decorators are gone home for the night. If these cakes sell, we’ll make more, but I don’t know exactly when. If you need one for a certain time tomorrow, you can place an order, and I can—”

Customer: “Are you being sarcastic with me right now? I’m not f****** slow!”

Me: *very confused* “No, I’m not. I’m saying that I can’t guarantee this cake will be here when you come in. But if you place an order, which is basically just giving me your name and number, I can promise it will!”

Customer: “THAT ISN’T WHAT I’M ASKING! WILL IT BE HERE TOMORROW OR NOT?!”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

Customer: “Okay, I’ve had enough of this!”

(She storms off with her hands in the air. I’m still standing in the bakery entrance with a confused look on my face. My coworker, a lady older than me but brand new to the store, comments on the customer’s rudeness. The customer comes running back.)

Customer: “You are f****** rude. I am a customer! Are you really going to talk to me like this?!”

(I don’t know what else to do now, and I need to serve other customers, so I give up.)

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “You young brats are so rude! Oh, my God!”

(The customer screamed at my coworker, who she assumed must be my superior, about how I needed to be fired, as I served the other customers. The last thing I heard was the customer screaming in anger when she asked about the chocolate cakes, and my coworker had to turn to me for the answer!)

(My dad owns a construction company. This week we have had a heatwave with temperatures feeling like 40 degrees with humidity. Yesterday, we also had severe thunderstorms with a chance of a tornado. My dad gets this call:)

Customer: *freaking out* “Where are the roofers?! They were supposed to be here today!”

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One night while I’m towing, I get a call to go change a tire. When I pull up behind the vehicle, a woman comes out. I get my equipment ready and ask where her spare tire is located.

She gets a confused look on her face and tells me that she doesn’t have a spare tire, and she thought I’d bring one.

After explaining to her that tow truck drivers don’t carry spare tires for other vehicles, and as there is a tire shop not too far away and I can see it from where I am, I offer to tow her vehicle to the tire shop.

She refuses, telling me she’s got a spare tire at home. She’ll take a cab — about 60 km round trip — to go get it and bring it back. As it is a fair distance, I offer to tow her vehicle home for her, as that would save a lot of money. She refuses and calls a cab to go get her spare.

About an hour and a half later, I get a call for a flat. It turns out it’s the same woman, this time with a tire, but not a rim. I explain to her that I can’t install a tire on a rim as I don’t have the required equipment or training to do so.

Again, I offer to tow her vehicle to the tire shop, and this time, I tell her I’ll only charge her for the tire change — about $40 — instead of the tow, which would cost about $80 or so. Again, she refuses and I leave the scene. I don’t get another call from her.

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(My boyfriend, my friend, and I are out at a local pub for dinner and darts. I’m playing a game on my phone while they face off.)

Friend: “What are you playing?”

Me: “[Game]. It’s pretty fun.”

(A waitress, unbeknownst to us, is walking by at this moment.)

Friend: “You should try Diner Dash. I like it a lot.”

Me: “Noted.”

Waitress: *appearing suddenly* “So, would you folks like your bill?”

Boyfriend: “No, we just got here.”

Waitress: “Are you sure? I heard someone talk about dining and dashing.”

(We burst out laughing and filled her in on the conversation. My boyfriend and I go there frequently and now we are known as the “Dine-And-Dashers.” Joy.)