(I work at a popular cafe in the mall. We were across the hall from a theatre showing a newly-released summer blockbuster, on Mother’s Day weekend, during a half-off promotion, so we’re quite busy. We’re making good time despite being understaffed. The wait for the line-up to getting drinks is easily twenty minutes, and the customer has waited the entire time. I am the only person making drinks.)

Me: *passes out her first drink* “Shaken tea lemonade for [Customer #1]!” *rinses out shaker and starts to prepare customer’s second, identical drink*

Customer #1: “That’s me.” *grabs drink*

(I begin to quickly prepare the next drink.)

Customer #2: “I really like your tattoo!”

Me: *smiling, still preparing drinks at top speed* “Thank you!”

Customer #1: “Excuse me! We have a show to get to! Please hurry up and do your job and stop wasting time!”

Me: *handing out finished drink* “Shaken tea lemonade for [Customer #1].”

Customer #1: *grabs drink, storms out*

Customer #2: “Geez, high-pressure job.”

(Here’s a thought: if you’re in such a hurry to get to your show, don’t get in the clearly very long line at the last minute and then take it out on the person busting their butt to keep up.)

(I am ordering a coffee. The barista has asked for a name to put on the cup. I use my nickname, Jim. I then take my place with the other customers waiting.)

Barista: *after several minutes* “GERM!”

(No one responds.)

Barista: “GERM! J-I-M, GERM!”

(I walk up to him, slightly discombobulated. He pushes the coffee into my hands.)

Barista: “Why the h*** didn’t you answer when I called the first time?”

Me: “I’ve never heard anyone say my name like that.”

Barista: “Well, how am I supposed to know how you say it?!”

Me: “You took my order, though. You heard me say it.”

Barista: “So?”

Me: “And you spelled it right on the cup.”

Barista: “So?!”

Me: “What did I say my name was?”

Barista: “Jim.”

Me: “And somehow, in the space of a few minutes, you forgot how to pronounce it?”

Barista: “It’s not my problem if you have an unpronounceable name.” *turns and works on the next order*

(I would have just ignored it and gotten on with my life, but I’m sure the guy was playing a game with me, as I’ve also used my full first name, to which he shouted, “Janine!” and when I gave him “Bob,” he shouted, “Burp!” I don’t go in there anymore, and the place looks a lot less crowded than it used to.)

(The cafe I work at has a group of regulars who play Dungeons & Dragons at a corner table in the weekend. It’s generally funny to listen in on the game when it’s quiet.)

Dungeon Master: “The thugs attack you. Congratulations; it’s a bar fight. Initiative, please.”

Girl Playing Wizard: “I will hide under the table and plug my fingers into my ears.”

(The rest of the players give her this slightly amused look.)

Girl Playing Wizard: “My character is a bookworm and a coward. Deal with it.”

(Every time she routinely hides during combat — in a wardrobe or a bush, polymorphing into a tree or turning invisible and stomping her feet in place to simulate running away — the group loves it. Later on in the campaign:)

Dungeon Master: *sighs heavily* “The innkeeper’s daughter, charmed and fascinated by your stories, is now in love with you.”

Guy Playing Bard: “Nice!”

Dungeon Master: “She’s sixteen. Her father calls the town guard.”

Guy Playing Bard: “Wait… Oh… What?”

(Cue a twenty-minute discussion about whether the age of consent applies in a largely medieval fantasy setting, before putting it up to vote with us and the patrons listening in. The bard is sent to jail with all votes — jokingly — against him. The adventure moves to breaking the bard out of jail.)

Dungeon Master: “The cell door is locked.”

Girl Playing Rogue: “I try to pick the lock.” *fails*

Girl Playing Wizard: “I think I have a spell for–”

Guy Playing Fighter: “I stuff my stick of dynamite in the lock to blow it open.”

(Total table silence.)

Guy Playing Fighter: “Hey, if it works!”

(Much later in the campaign:)

Girl Playing Wizard: “I cast…. uh… Charm Person on the warlord?”

Dungeon Master: “He throws his axe down and grasps your hand, proposing to you on the spot.”

Girl Playing Wizard: “I try to politely reject him!”

Dungeon Master: “He’s charmed by you, and his behavior hasn’t changed. He grapples you…” *rolls dice* “…and carries you off. That ends today’s session; we’ll pick up next week for the wedding.”

(One day, I’m with my coworker who has a reputation for being really spoiled. His mom buys him everything he wants, and the only reason he has this job is because his dad forced him to get it. The day we’re assigned to work a shift together, he comes in late, helps one customer, and goes on a scheduled break.)

Me: “[Coworker]?”

Coworker: “What?”

Me: “What’re you doing?”

Coworker: “I’m taking my break. Duh.”

Me: “Maybe you could give me a hand? It’s really busy, and I’ve been doing all the work this morning.”

Coworker:  “No f****** way. I’m on my break.”

(I give up because there are customer waiting. Less than thirty minutes later, my manager walks in. She looks at my coworker, then at the line, and orders him to start working. He rolls his eyes, but starts helping… with all the simplest jobs. Finally, it’s my break, and I head into the break room and look for my phone to text my boyfriend. I can’t find it, and I start freaking out. It’s brand new, and I had to save up for a long time for it. I ask my coworker, and he says he doesn’t know. I search the break room and the cash register, and then go to talk to the manager. She knows I’m honest and never misplace things that important, since I’ve been working there for three years, so she says she’ll contact the security people, and look at the camera footage, but in the meantime I should head back to work. I do, and near the end of my shift, she approaches my coworker and me. She drags us into the break room, since there’s only two or three people in the shop.)

Manager: “[Coworker]… return [My Name]’s phone.”

Coworker: “I don’t have it!”

(The manager glares daggers, turns, and heads to his coat that’s hanging up on a hook. She digs in his pocket and, lo and behold, my phone’s there.)

Coworker: “That’s my f****** phone!”

Me: “No, it’s not; that’s my case.”

Coworker: “She’s lying!”

Me: “Then unlock it.”

Coworker: “Fine!” *snatches it and enters random numbers* “It’s not unlocking; something is probably wrong with it.”

(I yank it out of his hand, unlock it easily, and show the home screen to the manager: a photo of me with my boyfriend and our cat.)

Coworker: “SHE FRAMED ME!”

(Somehow, he didn’t get fired, and ACTUALLY HAD THE NERVE TO HIT ON ME TWO DAYS LATER.)

(I’ve been working at a popular coffee shop for a month or so. I work with my best friend who is extremely nice and doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. This weekend our town has our parade, town activities, a baseball tournament, and a softball tournament. Naturally, it has been really busy. We have one customer, though, who doesn’t care about that and gives us a lot of h***.)

Me: “Welcome to [Coffee Shop]. What can I get started for you?”

(The lady orders two easy drinks that I could make in my sleep.)

Me: “I’ll have your total at the window.”

(The lady pulls up and I let my friend cash her out while I make the drinks. I suddenly hear yelling from the lady.)

Customer: “My daughter—” *who is in the car* “—works at [Coffee Shop] in [Other Town], and we got a 35% discount here last week.”

(We don’t have a 35% discount.)

Friend: “I can give you a 25%, but I’m not supposed to.”

Customer: “Fine. This is awful service. I’m also paying with a gift card.”

(The lady hands my friend the card. Instead of pressing redeem, though, she presses reload and five dollars. My friend realizes the mistake and tells the lady what happened. The lady will have to pay five dollars on her credit card, and then we can use the gift card. She refuses.)

Customer: “Are you serious? How do you even mess up that much? You’re so incompetent.”

(My friend is on the verge of tears, and we end up letting the lady leave. We end up paying the five dollars, so she gets five dollars on her gift card from us, and two free drinks. Ten minutes later:)

Me: “[Friend], that lady is coming inside.”

Customer: “My [super easy drink] is made wrong. There isn’t any caramel in it.”

(I am tired of this lady and we just got slammed.)

Me: “I know I put caramel in this.”

Customer: “You obviously didn’t. If you can’t handle this, we’re going to have a problem, and you shouldn’t be working here.”

Friend: “I’m so sorry. We’ll remake the drinks for you.”

Customer’s Daughter: “I hope you do. And we should get them free.”

(Now I’m pissed. They want four free drinks out of us, when we never messed up. I remake her caramel drink as she watches me like a hawk. As I put the whipped cream in, I reach for a lid to have it there.)

Customer: “DON’T YOU DARE FORGET THE DRIZZLE!”

(Her daughter is right there, so I ask a question.)

Me: “You work here. How many pumps of caramel should I put in here for a large?”

(The girl stutters around.)

Customer’s Daughter: “Like, six?”

Customer: “HOW DARE YOU ASK HER THAT QUESTION?!”

Me: “It’s 2.75 pumps of caramel. Please leave. You got two free drinks out of us, and now you’re scamming for two more. I’m not dealing with that today.”

Customer: “SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT!”

Me: “We all take a quiz after training. She should automatically know how much goes in, seeing as it’s a specialty drink.”

(The lady grabbed her daughter and left. She came back the next day and tried to start more crap. Luckily, my manager was there and didn’t take it.)