I’m from the UK, visiting a Lego theme park in Denmark. I’m in the gift shop, browsing, when I overhear another customer talking to the cashier.

Customer: “I had no idea Lego had such a good park in Denmark!”

Cashier: “Well, Ma’am, Lego is from—”

Customer: “It’s amazing that an American company has such a great park in Denmark! America gets such a bad rap these days, but it’s so nice that kids around the world get to play with an American invention.”

The cashier spends a few seconds considering their response.

Cashier: “I… yes, madam.”

It was sweet of the cashier to let her have that… but wow.

I was volunteering at Comic-Con Copenhagen a few years ago. We volunteers were wearing green t-shirts, while the ones who worked for Comic-Con were wearing black trousers and white button shirts and a badge plus walkie-talkies, so we were all recognizable, and it was easy to distinguish between volunteers and people who actually worked there.

I was guarding a staff-only staircase to make sure no guests would use it. This staircase was mostly used by the cafeteria staff. It was a very chill shift. Occasionally, I’d have to tell guests that they couldn’t use this staircase and answer some of their questions about where to find stuff, when this and this actor would give autographs, etc. And the cafeteria staff were so nice, one of them gave me a cupcake, life was good.

Up until she arrived.

This woman was in a hurry, it seemed, and she was heading directly for the staircase. So, I stepped out to get physically in the way and told her she couldn’t use this staircase and which one she should use instead.

But instead of apologizing and heading for the other staircase, like everyone else did, she started yelling at me that she had to use the bathroom (using this staircase instead of the other wasn’t any faster), and that I should move and that I was a c*** for trying to tell her where she could and couldn’t be. She said I should make an exception for her and that the rule was bad.

I told her multiple times that I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them, and she should go to talk to someone wearing a white shirt if she had a problem with the rules.

She was probably around forty, and I was twenty at the time of this story. She proceeded to talk to me like I was a literal child and told me she’d go talk to an adult.

To my luck, a white-shirt guy came by right at this time, and she went to him to complain about me and told him that she should be allowed to use the staircase because it was her human right or something, and that he should fire me.

He told her exactly what I had been telling her, that no, she can’t use the staircase, and that she’d get kicked out of the convention if she kept acting like this. You should seriously have seen the look on her face; it was the best thing ever. She really thought that he’d agree with her; the look of disappointment was just priceless.

The white-shirt guy then asked me if I was okay. I said yes and finally got to laugh about it after having to hold it in for a good ten minutes.

I work as a receptionist at a hotel, connected to a theme park known for its colourful bricks. I’m still pretty new by the time this happens. One morning, a guest and her son comes down to the desk to speak to me. It’s worth noting that we sell extra-day tickets for the equivalent of about $15. It’s also worth noting that it was pouring rain this morning.

Guest: “Good morning. I bought these tickets yesterday, but I’m feeling unwell today and won’t be able to take my son to the theme park today. I would like a refund.”

Me: “Sorry to hear you are not feeling well. I’m unsure if we do refunds, so let me make a quick call and get back to you.”

I make the call, and I’m told we don’t do refunds.

Me: “I have been informed that we unfortunately don’t do refunds.”

Guest: *Turning unpleasant and condescending.* “Well, you are just gonna have to make an exception! Because I got sick eating at YOUR restaurant last night, and I have been throwing up all night!”

Me: “I’m very sorry to hear you have been sick. Let me make another call and check our policies.”

I call my supervisor. Meanwhile, she is yelling about how she, at the very least, should then receive merchandise from our store equivalent to the same price she paid for the tickets. I get my supervisor on the phone, and ask he come talk with her, because she was clearly irritated with me.

I inform her that a supervisor is on their way, and I go to the other side of the reception desk, where I overheard her conversation with my supervisor.

Supervisor: “Good morning. How can I help you?”

Guest: “I want a refund on my tickets!”

Supervisor: “Unfortunately, we don’t do refunds on tickets. It’s EU law.”

Guest: “Well, I got sick from eating in your restaurant this morning!”

Supervisor: “I thought you got sick from eating there last night?”

Guest: *Now flustered and sputtering.* “Well, I can’t remember if I got sick from eating there last night or this morning! But I definitely got sick from eating there!”

Supervisor: “Alright, ma’am. Unfortunately, I still can’t offer you a refund.”

Guest: *Changing tactics.* “Can you really bring yourself to do this to a poor single mother, whom have saved for years to bring her son from America to the Themepark?”

Supervisor: *Clearly not falling for it.* “Yes.”

Guest: “FINE! I want all of your names! I am going to sue the f*** out of every one of you!”

Supervisor: “You are welcome to try, ma’am.”

The guest then tries to take pictures of us. This is VERY illegal. My supervisor calls Park Security.

Supervisor: “You cannot take photos of us. You will be speaking with our security.”

Guest: “No, I will not!”

The guest then stormed out of the hotel, never to be seen again. Her son was right next to her during all of this. I felt so bad for the kid.

My supervisor later told me that his alarm bells were ringing as soon as I called him, and he suspected she just wanted a refund, because she didn’t want to go to the park in the rain.

Some years ago, I was driving pickups and deliveries (P and D) for a trucking company in Denmark. P and D is the part of the transport chain where you usually deliver small quantities to multiple customers on a route — kind of like UPS or FedEx, but in semi-trucks or rigid/box trucks. It was nearing the end of the day, and I had to deliver a trampoline to a residential area. Mind you, this was in the EU, so things may be a bit different than in the USA regarding rules and regulations.

It was a fairly new area with plenty of space, but I had to reverse because there was no way of turning around. But no problem. The road was wide, and so were the corners I had to go around. I put my semi in reverse and started going backward. Of course, I was delivering to the last house on the street. Now the road climbed a bit and was about 600 or 700 metres long, but it all went fine.

When I finally got to the end of the road and got out of my truck to unload this trampoline, some guy was already standing behind my truck and started yelling and swearing at me.

Guy: “You are the biggest f****** idiot on this earth! How the h*** could you even think of coming in here with a semi?! You could have run over all the kids in the neighbourhood!”

No one else was out there.

Guy: “You have absolutely no valid reason for being here, and you need to get the h*** out of here right away!”

Instead of starting an argument with person, I calmly asked him where he lived. He pointed at the house.

Guy: “Number seventy-four.”

Me: *Still very calmly* “Well, in that case, I have a trampoline for you…”

Guy: “Oh, well, I would like if you could—”

Me: *Interrupting* “BUT! Since I have no business being in here with a semi, I will be waiting for you at the end of the road.

I pointed in the direction I had just come from.

Me: “Mind you, this is the big model weighing about 130 pounds, so you might want to bring a wheelbarrow.”

The joy it was seeing him coming all the way down the road with his wheelbarrow! And then trying to get this 130-pound trampoline up in the wheelbarrow and starting his long, heavy walk 700 metres up to his house again? Priceless!

Many moons ago, I became the target of “Windows tech support” scammers yet again. You know the ones that always have that cliche non-American accent but still insist they’re called Jake and live in America? This had happened on and off before, but in this particular instance, I think it was a new hire trying desperately to either reach a quota, make a good impression on their boss, or something because they called me fourteen times in two days. 

FOURTEEN EFFING TIMES!

I tried everything from just hanging up, to yelling and swearing, to playing dumb and wasting their time. Nothing worked. The calls kept on coming.

At my wit’s end, I picked up the phone for the fourteenth time and spoke in the thickest, most stereotypical [Asian Country] accent I could muster as a Caucasian guy.

Me: “Thank you for calling Windows tech support. How may I help you?”

They hung up immediately and haven’t called me back since.