I overhear a coworker venting after hanging up the phone.

Coworker: “…so, I told her, ‘Ma’am, we don’t have a bruschetta-spinach salad. We have bruschetta as an appetizer, and we have a spinach salad.’ She got huffy and ordered a spinach salad. I hope she doesn’t get upset when [Delivery Driver] gets there. But man, she wanted to argue with me!”

About twenty minutes later, the phone rings and I answer it.

Me: “Thanks for calling [Restaurant]. How can I help you?”

Customer: *Politely* “Hi, how are you?”

Me: “I’m doing great. How about you?”

Customer: *Suddenly yelling* “I’m doing terrible! I placed an order for delivery and I didn’t get my bruschetta spinach salad! I was charged for it!”

Me: “Okay, ma’am, let me pull up the order. Okay, it looks like you were charged for [order] and a small spinach salad. Did you not get something?”

Customer: “Oh, I got it! I got the salad! But where’s my bruschetta spinach salad?”

I put two and two together.

Me: “We do not offer a bruschetta spinach salad. We have a spinach salad with [ingredients], and we offer bruschetta with [other ingredients].”

Customer: “I wanted the bruschetta! This is wrong!”

I put the woman on hold and turn to my manager to explain the situation. He decides to give her an order for free. The woman agrees and demands that it be delivered. A few minutes later, my manager tells me that the bruschetta is done and that it’s up to me to take it to her. When I get there:

Customer: “It’s about time! I pay good money to get my order right! This is coming out of your tip!”

I don’t mention that I’m not getting tipped for this trip anyway, especially since I am not a regular delivery driver. I also place a takeout menu in her bag, so hopefully, this experience won’t repeat.

A few weeks later, I’m working as a cashier again and I answer the phone, a customer placing a delivery for the same office building.

Customer: *Places order* “…and a bruschetta spinach salad.”

Me: “We have a spinach salad and a bruschetta appetizer. Are you perhaps after one of those? We don’t offer a ‘bruschetta spinach salad.’”

Customer: “No! That idiot girl last time told me that you don’t have it, but I know you do! I don’t want to have to call back to complain, and I don’t have a long enough lunch break to be dealing with this bulls***!”

It’s the middle of a rush and I snap.

Me: “Ma’am, nobody is trying to be dishonest with you. We. Do. Not. Have. The. Item. You. Keep. Trying. To. Order. We have two separate items. And to be completely honest, I feel that you are trying to run a scam to get free food. I do not appreciate you yelling at me, nor do I appreciate you insulting me or my coworkers.”

Customer: *High-pitched whine* “Well, how was I supposed to know?!”

Me: “Ma’am, you may not recall, but I do specifically remember placing a takeout menu in your bag the last time I brought you your free food. If you cannot find it, we do also have an online menu.”

Customer: *Screaming* “You b****! I don’t want to pay for this! I want my order for free! All of you f****** dip-s***s don’t know what the f*** you’re doing! This is f****** ridiculous!”

Me: *Flatly* “Madam, I have asked you politely not to insult my coworkers or me. I have also tried to explain in multiple ways what our menu offers, but you do not want to listen. I’m sorry, but I cannot give you your order for free just because we don’t have something you want. Your total is [total].”

Customer: “I TOLD YOU F****** B****ES THAT I’M NOT PAYING IF YOU DON’T HAVE MY F****** BRUSCHETTA SPINACH SALAD!”

Me: “Then we will not be able to deliver your order to you. Thank you for calling.” *Click*

A woman who works at a local restaurant comes in to have some copies of their menu printed out. She emails over the file, and while I’m pulling it up, she asks if I can move the text “up and down” the page a little. The file finally opens, and I can’t move the text down without it going on to a second page.

Me: “It looks like everything is pretty full and centered on there already. It takes up the whole page as it is.”

Customer: “Just move it up and down.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean by that. If I move it down, you’ll have the bottom line of text on another page.”

Customer: “Let me see!”

I turn the monitor so she can see it. She angrily huffs at me.

Customer: “Can I just do it myself, then?!”

Me: “Sure! Let me just get our rental computer unlocked… All right, if you just press ‘activate’ on the screen over there, it’ll start your computer session. Let me know if you need a hand!”

She goes and stands next to the computer while I start working on another customer’s print job. After a minute, I notice that she’s just been glaring at me ever since I walked away from her.

Me: “I’m sorry, was there something else I could help you with before we get you onto the computer?”

Customer: “Are you going to help me or not?!”

Me: “I can definitely help you with printing. Press activate on the screen, and just let me know when your file is up.”

Customer: “ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME?!”

Me: “Yes. As soon as you are ready, let me know and I’ll be happy to help you as needed.”

Customer: “Ugh! No one ever helps me here! Your boss will hear about you!”

She stormed out and I just stood there for a second, wondering what exactly she wanted me to do, besides being some sort of mind reader.

I work in a childcare facility offered free to gym members. We have three rooms: one for babies, one for toddlers, and one for school-age kids. The baby room closes at noon so that we can stay within ratio. A mother comes in wanting to register her six-week-old child.

Mom: “So, she’ll be in the baby room, right?”

Me: “Actually, not at this time. We close the baby room at noon, as we have two staffers clocking out and we have to stay in ratio. She will be completely safe, though. A staffer will be with her at all times to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” 

Mom: “But she can’t be around these older kids! She’s not vaccinated!”

Me: *Pause* “Then why did you bring her to a daycare?”

Mom: “She’s supposed to be in the baby room!”

Me: “Ma’am, we can’t take her by herself into the baby room; it’s against the rules to have one staff member alone with a child.”

Mom: “Then put two in there! Just open it! I don’t want her getting sick!”

Me: “If we put two staff members in with her that will leave two staff members in the toddler room with over fifty kids. That’s double our required ratio and we can’t do that—”

Mom: “You can and you will! This is unfair to my child!”

Even though the mother has interrupted me I am still talking.

Me: “—and besides, we can’t accept an unvaccinated child. That is in our policies. And if you’re worried about her getting sick from the kids, you shouldn’t want her around adults, or anyone, really.”

Mom: “I’m going to work out! Just take her and do whatever you want!”

She holds the baby out to me.

Me: “No. We cannot take her.”

Mom: “Fine!”

She storms out.

Another Parent: “Why… why would she…?”

Me: *Shrugs* “I’m clocking out.”

I leave, and as I am walking out, I encounter the mom again, this time yelling at the manager on duty about my refusing to take her child. The manager is not the childcare manager and has no idea of our policies, so he grabs me and asks what he should tell her.

Me: “Show her the policies about vaccinations. Have fun! She loves her child enough to put her in danger; I don’t think she cares about what happens to you.”

The mom didn’t hear that, but a coworker and I laughed our way out of work.

A client comes up to our desk one afternoon looking very stern. She tells my coworker that she returned a printer and that we forgot to give her her cable back, not that she had forgotten to remove it herself.

As I am already heading to the back of the store, where we keep such items, I offer to look for it. After about fifteen minutes of looking and no luck, I look through our recycling bags to see if one is getting tossed. I find a printer cable still in its twist-tie!

I bring it back to the client, excited because it’s brand new. She immediately glares at me.

Client: “This cable is blue. I had a black one. It will not work with my printer.”

Coworker: “Ma’am, there is no difference from cable to cable. They’ll all work with a printer, as long as the ends are the same.”

Client: “There is a difference. Mine was black; my printer is black. I want a black cable, so I know it will work.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I was searching and your cable wasn’t back there. This one is brand new and will work.”

Client: “I want to speak to your manager; you are obviously not listening.”

My manager comes up and we explain the situation.

Manager: “Ma’am, we ship all returns out every morning and I guarantee that the cable you brought in is gone. My associates inform me that they have provided you with a brand new cable. I don’t understand the problem.”

She says with an eye roll.

Client: “I want my black cable back, not this blue one that will not work with my printer. These two obviously know nothing about these things or they would know that you have to get the cable that matches your printer!”

Manager: “Ma’am, I have no idea who told you such ludicrous things, but printer cables don’t have that kind of distinction. As long as the USB ends are correct, it will work. Just do me a favor: take it home, try it. If it doesn’t work, I will figure out a way to fix it. Okay?”

At this the customer huffed off, taking the cord. We haven’t seen her back since.

I worked in a retail store as a floor associate in the clothing department. For the most part, staff got along really well with each other and management, with one major exception: the store manager.

He was completely oblivious to his own effect on those around him but just assumed he was beloved. He routinely took the customers’ side over staff, made major exceptions to policies to favor the customer in front of the staff member who had tried to explain policy — for example, overriding major price changes because a customer misread a sign, not because the sign was incorrect — and would both encourage “store spirit” among employees but berate us if he found us chatting, even while doing our tasks.

Think Michael Scott, only so much worse and real. 

This all came to a head when the employee satisfaction survey rolled around. While most of the store performed as you’d expect of a major department store employing dozens of part-timers at minimum wage, the store manager received a whopping 8% satisfaction score.

His reaction was to schedule a meeting with each team in the store and demand that we all give him three reasons why we didn’t like him before we were allowed to leave the meeting. He listened to all of our severely-censored reasons — because who says what they think of their boss who could fire them at the drop of a hat to their face? — told us why each of our reasons was wrong, misplaced, or just not fair, and then walked around the store in a funk for a month. 

He quit with zero notice in the middle of a shift. Best day ever.