I worked quick service food at Disney World in the past. A guest comes to my location:

Guest: “I have an allergy to pineapple, but I want the Dole Whip, please. Just keep the pineapple flavor, but none of the actual juice.”

Me: “Sorry, but the Dole Whips get their flavor from real pineapple. Pineapple is actually blended into the mix. I can offer you the vanilla soft serve instead?”

Guest: “Pfft! As if there’s any real fruit in any of your s***! You’re just being lazy!”

Me: “Sir, everything is pre-blended, so it is exactly the same amount of effort for me to serve you the pineapple or the vanilla flavor.”

Guest: “So either you’re being lazy, or you’re refusing to accommodate an allergy, which is even worse! You’re literally ruining my vacation! I’ve had it before, so just quit being difficult and give me my Dole Whip.”

All allergies are ultimately handled by coordinators and above anyway, so I tell her:

Me: “I’ll get a coordinator to complete your allergy request.”

The coordinator is just as confused as I am after trying to explain the same thing. The coordinator ends up giving her a cup of vanilla soft serve, and the woman gives me a triumphant death glare, keeping eye contact as she takes a bite and walks away, seemingly satisfied.

I work at a theme park that has a combination of thrill rides and zoo/safari attractions.

I worked at a rollercoaster, where the minimum height to ride was 48 inches, so as to be certain the restraints would fit. I had a pair of parents (mom and dad) bring up a small child who looked about two or three.

Me: “Sorry, but he’s way too small for this ride. For safety reasons, I can’t let him on.”

Dad: “…We’ll risk it.”

Me: “Uh… sir, I’m not giving you a choice. He can’t go on the ride. You and your partner can ride separately while one looks after your son.”

Dad: “I’m his father. I said we’ll risk it.”

Me: “Sir, that’s like going on the jungle safari tour and placing your son outside the car to be with the lions. Would you risk that?”

Mom: “We’ll ride separately… thanks.”

I made sure they both rode while one held their son, who was crying the whole time, not because he couldn’t go on the ride, but because he was scared of it.

I’m working in a grocery store, bagging for a couple who have brought their own reusable bags. After I’ve filled their bags, they still have more groceries, so I ask:

Me: “Is it alright if the rest go in plastic?”

Customer #1: “Yes, that’s fine.”

I start bagging the rest in plastic when the other customer asks:

Customer #2: “Are these bags green?”

Me: *Thinking maybe he didn’t hear me.* “They’re plastic.”

Customer #2: *Asks again.* “Are these bags green?”

Me: *Getting confused now, I start thinking, “Is he asking if we recycle them?”* “Y-yeah, I guess?”

Thankfully, he picks up on my confusion.

Customer #2: “Sorry, I’m colorblind. Are these bags green?”

Me: “Oh!”

The store’s main color is green, but the plastic bags are a tan brown.

I work in an Italian restaurant, and we have a large map of Italy on the wall. A customer is waiting for their food and is studying the map.

Customer: “D*** that must be one old map of Florida! I don’t recognize a single name!”

I work at an insurance agency. Literally the day before a major hurricane makes landfall, a customer calls me.

Caller: “I need to buy insurance on a home.”

Me: “Where is it?”

Caller: “Tampa Bay.”

Me: “Uh… isn’t Hurricane Helene about to hit there?”

Caller: “Yeah, which is why I need insurance, moron!”

Related:
A Storm Of Entitlement, Part 9
A Storm Of Entitlement, Part 8
A Storm Of Entitlement, Part 7
A Storm Of Entitlement, Part 6
A Storm Of Entitlement, Part 5