I work at a coffee shop in a mall. My boss is a little strange, and I have had a few odd instances with her. Once, she got angry with me for not attending a coffee shop employee barbecue get-together, because I was busy attending an activity that would further my career. Another time, she told people they could not quit at a certain time, because she was heading on a long vacation and wouldn’t be able to go if someone quit, as she would have to hire someone else and train them.

One evening, about 45 minutes before closing, my coworker and I have started to do closing duties. I rearrange a couple of the coffee pots to the spots they will need to be in the following morning, which doesn’t affect us being able to pour coffee or the customers being able to see it or anything.

No sooner than I’d done that, the phone rang. It was my boss — who, mind you, was at home at this point — asking me why I moved the coffee pots, and saying that I shouldn’t move them until we were officially closed for the night! Not only was the request a little nitpicky, but the worst part was that she was watching us on the mall security cameras!

(I am the senior member of staff on the evening shift. I’m around 18 years old, but I look a lot younger. Two other colleagues are in their late 20s, but have worked at the cafe for less than three months, so I am the manager for the evening. A customer comes up to us with a completely clear plate.)

Customer: “I’m not happy with these pancakes.”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, but it appears you ate them, regardless. If you would like to provide feedback to the chefs, I will be happy to pass it along.”

Customer: “No, I want a new meal and a refund.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that; you have eaten the meal. If you had let me know there was a problem earlier, I would have happily taken them back to the kitchen for you or given you a refund, but you did seem to enjoy the meal enough to eat the whole thing.”

Customer: “No, this is unacceptable. I demand to speak to your manager.”

(My older colleagues are standing behind the service bar at this time and the customer is looking between them, expecting one of them to step forward.)

Me: “I am the manager on duty, so you are speaking to the manager.”

Customer: “No, you’re not the manager.”

Me: “I wouldn’t be allowed to say I was the manager if I wasn’t.”

Customer: “I want to speak to the other manager.”

Me: “There is no other manager. You’re welcome to come back later when my supervisor will be here; however, they won’t be on shift for a few days.” *gives them the date and time*

Customer: “This is unbelievable, letting someone like you be manager! You’re in high school!”

Me: “Regardless of if I am in high school or university, or if I’m a full-time worker here, it doesn’t make me any less the manager. If you would like, I can take your plate.”

Customer: *slams the plate on the bench and walks away*

(I am a customer on a busy, winter’s day in a well-known coffee shop. After ordering a small hot chocolate, I join a number of people waiting for their drinks. Two ladies receive their drinks, and one immediately starts adding packets of sugar. After a few minutes of no drinks being prepared for the people in the store, the staff quickly realized something is wrong with the computerized system and start retaking orders from those standing around. I wait patiently, as this is clearly not a big deal. The other customers, not so much.)

Older Couple Waiting: *in loud whispers* “I can’t believe it’s taking this long… This is unacceptable… We don’t have all day!” *receives their drinks and sits down to sip them leisurely at a table*

Teenage Girl: *on her phone* “Yeah, I’m still waiting. Argh!” *receives her drink and waits outside for her ride for several minutes*

Middle-Aged Man: *looks annoyed as he stands blocking the counter, sighing loudly at intervals, receives his drink, and sits down to read the newspaper*

(Remember the lady who got her drink before the machine malfunctioned? She has been adding sugar to her drink this whole time! Her drink is open, and she shakes each packet down carefully before pouring it in and stirring slowly. I’ve counted 19 packets.)

Barista: *to me* “Ma’am, thank you for waiting. What can I get you?”

Sugar Lady: *shoving in front* “Excuse me! My drink tastes funny and it’s too cold.”

Barista: *glancing apologetically at me* “I’m so sorry. I can remake that for you now.”

Sugar Lady: “You’d better.”

Barista: *when done, to me* “Can I upgrade you to a large hot chocolate for your patience?”

(I work in a café as a barista. The café is a chain, but my store is just a small kiosk inside a grocery store. Almost all of our customers are people who just stop to get a coffee while getting their groceries, so we don’t get very busy. Most days I work the evening shift alone as I only get a handful of customers per hour and there is no need to have anyone else there with me. This means I have to work the till and the espresso machine myself. I am working one night when a regular customer comes in with his grocery shopping and orders multiple drinks to take home to his family. I ring him up, give him his change, and walk over to the espresso machine to start making his drinks. Another customer with a stroller walks up to the till. I smile at her.)

Me: “Hi there. I’ll be with you in just a few minutes; I’m working alone tonight.”

Customer: “I’ll have a cookie.”

Me: “No problem, ma’am. I just need to finish off the drinks I’m making for this customer, and then I’ll be right with you.”

(She immediately starts huffing and tapping her nails on the counter, making a big show of the fact that she has to wait. I’m trying to avoid looking at her but I finally do have to look over to make sure no one else is waiting behind her. As soon as she sees me look in her direction, she tries to get my attention.)

Customer: “I’ll have a cookie, please!”

Me: “I’ll be able to get your cookie in a moment, just as soon as I’m done making these drinks.”

(By this time, all the espresso is done brewing and I’m just adding the steamed milk and toppings to the drinks. I probably would be another two minutes, but she carries on.)

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I want my cookie now! Why can’t you stop making the drinks and come sell me a cookie?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s company policy that when only one person is working, we need to finish each order before taking a new one. Otherwise, if I got busy, I could end up standing at the till taking orders forever with no one to make them. It’s the way my manager wants things done, and it’s my job to listen.”

Customer: *starts yelling and swearing* “I’ll be talking to your manager about how rude and lazy you are! My son wants a cookie and we want it now!”

(Her son starts to cry because her yelling has woken him up.)

Customer: “See?! You’ve upset him! My little boy has waited all day for his chocolate chip cookie and now you’re telling me he can’t have one!”

Me: “Ma’am, I never said he can’t have one—“

Customer: “Forget it! I’m calling your manager and I’m having you fired!”

(She stormed off in a huff and I handed the now-finished drinks to my first customer, who said something about being sorry I have to deal with people like that. I made a note in our communication binder about what happened in case she does complain to corporate about me, but she didn’t. Thankfully, I never saw her again.)

(My name is Molly. For as long as I can remember, I have always hated it. Passionately. One of the most annoying reasons is that as a child, whenever I was introduced to adults, they would sing “Good Golly, Miss Molly” at me. And they always thought they were the most funny and clever person for thinking to do it. One day, I’m at my favorite cafe and one of the waitresses who knows me spots me and smiles.)

Waitress: “Good Golly, Miss Molly… Sure like to ball!”

Me: “DON’T!”

Waitress: *still smiling* “Aw, why? It’s fun.”

Me: “I’m just soooo sick of it. Please, I know you’re trying to be funny and welcoming, but it’s just really grating on the nerves. You, of all people, should understand.”

Waitress: “What do you mean?”

Me: “You really expect me to believe that every Christmas customers don’t see your nametag and start singing your name at you?”

(She looks pensive and confused for a moment before I start singing…)

Me: “The First Noel, the angels did say…”

(The waitress’s eyes go wide with understanding. Her name is Noelle.)

Waitress: “Oh, God! Never again! I’m so, so sorry!”