(Our store is on a university campus. The university is having an open day, so it’s very busy. I’ve accidentally put this lady’s order in a take-away cup, instead of a sit-in.)

Customer’s Daughter: “It’s okay, Mum; it’s the same drink.”

Customer: “No, I want a fresh one in a real cup.”

Me: “No problem, I’ll make a fresh one and bring it over to your table.”

(The customer doesn’t go to her table. She stands at the bar and watches me to make sure I “get it right” whilst making comments about how I can’t follow “simple instructions.”)

Customer: “If you went to university, you’d be able to get a real job.”

Me: “Actually, I am a student here, and so are my colleagues. I’m doing a PhD, [Colleague] is studying Physics, and [Other Colleague] is fluent in four languages. Have a nice day visiting our campus!”

(Our manager is taken sick at work and we have to call an ambulance. As a result, we’re closing early. Although we’ve put signs up, no one reads them, so I am standing at the door asking people not to come inside. Our shop is in the same building as a bookshop, which is remaining open.)

Me: “Sorry, guys, we’re closing early today, due to our manager being unwell.”

Customer: “I just want a hot chocolate.”

Me: “Unfortunately, we’re closing, and all the machines are being turned off.”

(As she is launching into a rant, the ambulance pulls up and paramedics go inside.)

Customer: “But I want a hot chocolate! No one else sells this hot chocolate! Can’t you just pour out some you’ve already made?”

Me: “We don’t have any made up right now; everything has been cleared away.”

(She looks at the sign, which says the bookshop is remaining open.)

Customer: “Where is [Bookshop] then?”

Me: “It’s just next door.”

(She peers through the door at the displays.)

Customer: “Oh. I thought you were trying to help me find another cafe. The least you could do is put a sign up.”

(She walked away in a huff, and people kept coming to the door and asking why we were closed, even whilst they could see the paramedics inside!)

Customer: “Hi, what types of dairy do you have here?”

Me: “Our standard is 2%. We also have half and half, whole milk, nonfat, and heavy cream that we use for whip cream.”

Customer: “Seriously? You don’t have soy or almond milk? This is ridiculous!”

Me: “Umm, let me get you my supervisor.”

(I still do not understand how a grown woman does not know that dairy comes from a cow.)

(I’m currently between jobs, so I stop into a coffee shop to browse job postings on my laptop and send out my resume. While doing so, I have headphones in so I can listen to music. After being there for about ten minutes, I see a middle-aged woman about two tables away waving frantically to get my attention.)

Me: *takes out headphones* “Um, can I help you?”

Customer: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Drinking coffee, I guess.”

Customer: *sigh* “No! What are you doing on your computer?” *moves over to the table next to mine, bringing two duffel bags with her*

Me: “I’m job-hunting online.”

Customer: “What kind of work do you do?”

Me: “I manage fundraising for nonprofits and political causes.”

Customer: “Politics, huh?” *looks over at the restroom and sees a handicapped sign* “Well, Mr. Politics, what’s your opinion on the handicapped?”

Me: “What about the handicapped?”

Customer: “What is your opinion on them?”

Me: *pauses* “I’m in favor of them.”

Customer: “Well, it doesn’t seem like you know all that much about politics, after all; that’s probably why you are unemployed.”

Me: “Ma’am, was there something you needed?”

Customer: “Jeez, I’m just trying to make friendly conversation.”

Me: “I’m not interested in that, thank you.”

(I put my headphones back in and stare at my screen but don’t put any music back on so I can eavesdrop on this woman.)

Customer: “How rude! I bet you’re probably one of those serial killers. Probably looking at p*rn on that computer!”

(I continue acting like I can’t hear her, and I avoid making eye contact again while she keeps waving and trying to get my attention. She eventually moves to the table behind me and begins bugging the people there, telling them that I am looking at p*rn in the coffee shop — even though this table has a full view of my computer screen — and about how I am probably a serial killer. The couple behind me doesn’t last as long as I did and quickly gets up to leave. She turns her attention back to me and screams.)

Customer: “HEY!”

Me: “What?”

Customer: “I need you to watch my bags; I’m going to go buy cigarettes.”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “Well, why not?”

Me: “Because your bags are not my responsibility.”

Customer: “WELL, I NEED TO GO, SO YOU NEED TO WATCH MY BAGS!”

(Before I can say anything else she storms out. I go to the counter to let the barista know what happened.)

Barista: “I’m really sorry about that. She comes in here every couple of weeks, and after the last time we kicked her out she called corporate to file a complaint about us. Now, we can’t kick her out unless someone actually complains. We were kind of wondering how long it would take you to speak to us.”

Me: “Does she still need to be here for me to complain? I’d rather leave before she gets back.”

Barista: “No, man, feel free to get out of here. I’m just glad we can kick her out now when she gets back.”

(I left after that, but felt bad for the barista who had to deal with her when she returned.)

(A customer is ordering her drink. From her accent, I assume she is native English.)

Customer: “Can you tell me where the Cenotaph is, please?”

Me: *gives directions*

Customer: “And is the President there?”

Me: *assuming she means Prime Minister* “No. There’s a ceremony held every Remembrance Sunday. She will be in attendance.”

Customer: “When is that?”

Me: “It’s held every second Sunday in November.”

Customer: “And when is that?”

Me: “Next Sunday.”

Customer: “And you’re sure the President will be there?”

Me: “Yes. The Prime Minister will be there.”

(She gets her drink and walks away.)

Customer: *to her friend* “What the f*** is a Prime Minister?”