(I work night shifts at a service station. When a customer picks up a fuel hose to fuel up their car, it sets off an alarm inside that alerts the station attendant that the pump needs to be authorized. Fuel won’t pour until they do so, and the alarm won’t stop until it is either authorized or hung up. Unfortunately, a system error crashes one of the pumps with the alarm still going, so the entire pump has been turned off to shut it up until it can be fixed. Each nozzle on the pump has been covered with a bright orange out-of-order sign that must be removed before it can be used. I am in the cold room of the store stocking shelves when I hear thumping sounds and swearing, so I return to the front in time to see a man seemingly standing up from beside the non-functioning pump. There is no car, but I see he has a fuel can.)

Me: *over PA system* “Sorry, customer on pump seven! That one is currently out of order. I’ll just get you to move over to six and you’ll be all set.”

(The customer storms over to the night window, swearing loudly the whole while.)

Customer: “Oh, and you couldn’t d*** well tell me that ten minutes ago, you useless f****** w****r? What the f*** were you doing?”

Me: “I’m very sorry, sir.” *I explain the error, the pump alarm, etc.* “So, when you attempted to fill up, it wasn’t able to notify me, and since you walked in, I didn’t hear a car entering. Again, I’m extremely sorry about the wait. If you want to head over to one of the other pumps, I can get that started for you right away, and I can grab you a coffee card or free drink as an apology.”

Customer: *slightly mollified* “Well, you still should have had some kind of d*** sign out so tha—” *he gestures angrily at the pump, pausing as he notices the fluorescent orange hose-covers* “Huh.”

(He pauses for a moment, then turns back to me, looking absolutely mortified.)

Customer: “Look, I’m really sorry I went off like that. I messed up, and you’ve treated me a lot politer than I deserved. Don’t worry about fuel or a freebie. I’ll just go. Uh… Who… cleans out by the pumps and that here, by the way?”

Me: “The night staff do it, so that’ll be me just before I finish this morning. Why?”

Customer: “Oh, uh… Um, here.” *he shoves a $10 note into the cash slot and leaves hurriedly*

(Some time later:)

Another Customer: “Jesus, did somebody take a s*** over beside pump seven?”

(Sadly, the answer was yes.)

(I work the late shift at a gas station. It is about 12:30 at night when a man walks in with a child, about ten years old. He selects and brings a pack of beer to the counter.)

Me: “That’ll be $14.64, sir.”

(He pays and doesn’t make a scene. I figure that he is not going to be a problem. I hand him the beer, and he gives the pack to the child.)

Customer: “Here, [Kid]. You carry it.”

Me: “Sir, I cannot let your kid carry the beer out of the store. It is against the law.”

Customer: “Hey, f***a**, it’s my kid. I can do what I want with him.”

Me: “Sir, your kid is a minor. Once he is off the lot, he may carry it home, but it is against the law for a minor to carry beer on commercial property.”

(The child tries to hand the beer to his father.)

Customer: “No! He can carry the d*** case! He’s not the government’s kid! He can and will do what I say! What’s your f****** problem, d**khead?!”

Me: “Sir, you need to carry the beer out the door by yourself, or I will call the cops. Do you want to be arrested because you wouldn’t carry the beer?”

(He swears under his breath at me and snatches the beer from his child. He turns to leave, and as he reaches the door, he glares back at me.)

Customer: “I am never coming back here again. I hope you lose your job.”

(My husband and I spend the day helping our son move to his new place and clean his old place. We stop for gas and drinks on the way home. While he pumps gas, I go inside for the drinks. Part of the transaction involves inputting my zip code. I groan and say:)

Me: “I hate numbers when I have a migraine.”

Customer Behind Me: *yells right into my ear* “I DON’T!”

Me: “Lady, you don’t know how lucky you are that I don’t carry a weapon.”

(Please, people, never yell at someone with a migraine!)

I was working a closing shift one night when I got a phone call from an elderly sounding woman.

Me: “(My Job’s name, My department, My name) speaking, how can I help you”, I put extra emphasis on (My department) because customers tend to think its located directly in the store.

Elderly Woman: “Yes, Hi, my brother used (My company’s delivery service name) and while the service was great and quick, I’d tipped your driver $20, and I know that’s a lot, but its the holidays, so spread the wealth. Anyways, so I tipped him and he had the nerve to say is that all? Can you believe the nerve? How dare you employ someone like that, don’t you care about your customers at all?!”

During this tirade I’m attempting to apologize and explain I am not affiliated with that service and neither is my particular store.

Me: I’m very sorry Ma’am, but….

EW: Its just hard to get to and from your store in (town that’s 45 minutes away). That’s why my brother used this service, after all he swore by it, so then I started to use it…

After about 5 minutes of this I finally get a chance to talk.

Me: I’m very sorry about your driver’s bad behavior, but I’m personally not apart of (delivery service), nor is my store, the only suggestion I can give you is, you should either call your local store or (our delivery service) directly.

EW: NO! You are the first live person I got a hold of, so you HAVE to help me.

Me: I’m very sorry, but I have no authority or even contact in that area so I really can’t do much.

EW: That is not good enough, transfer me to (Her town’s store) so someone can actually help me.

Me: I’m sorry, but our phones are not connected, so I can’t transfer your call.

EW, Then give me someone’s number so I can complain, and I’m not looking up anyone’s phone number, that’s your job.

Me: Again, I’m very sorry, but I don’t have either number.

EW: You’re just being lazy (click!)

(I’m a woman, and I’ve stopped to fill up my tank. I’m the only one at the station. A red sports car comes up and parks on the opposite side of mine. A woman gets out and walks over to the trash can between the stations. She is rather oddly dressed: knee-high boots, leggings, tunic, jacket, and a scarf, so only her face and hands show.)

Woman: *throwing away a very tiny item* “Hi, how are you?”

Me: “Hello.”

Woman: “Do you know any deaf people who need help interpreting the Bible?”

Me: *confused look*

(I’m a bit surprised at the abrupt questioning, as we’ve only traded the barest of greetings. She apparently thinks my hesitation is over not knowing what deaf means, as she begins using hand gestures.)

Woman: “Do you know anyone who is deaf and needs help interpreting the Bible because they can’t hear? A deaf person who is unable to hear sounds, and needs help with the Bible?”

Me: *now really flummoxed* “Ah, no. I don’t.”

Woman: “Okay. The reason I ask is because we’re Jehovah’s Witnesses, and we’re looking for deaf people to help interpret the Bible so they understand the Word of God. We’re looking for people so we can go to their homes and help with reading the Bible.”

(She then stares at me for a few moments, as if waiting for me to comment on this. As I’m still trying to process that a complete stranger asked me for a deaf person’s address, I say nothing. She blinks, and then gets back in the car and zooms off, without getting any gas. It is only later that a thought occurs to me.)

Me: “Why would a deaf person need interpreters for the Bible? They can read!”

Related:
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 12
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 11
Jehovah’s Witless, Part 10