I work at a library. There are several ways for customers to renew their loan period, including visiting our web catalog and calling. However, it is only possible to renew twice, which is why we ask the customers for an email address when renewing online, although this is optional due to data protection laws.

It’s usually my task to work through the renewal applications which come in through our web catalog. This has to be done manually since the city council, who provides funds to keep the library running, doesn’t allow us to implement an automatic renewal.

It is quite ordinary to come across renewal applications for media units that have already reached the maximum of two renewals. Usually, people provide an email address so we can contact them to let them know that they need to bring them in in order to avoid late fees. However, they don’t always, which regularly leads to situations like this:

Me: “Oh, it’s [Customer] again… Two renewals went through and now she requested a third one.”

Coworker: “Did she at least provide an email address this time?”

Me: “Nope.”

Coworker: *Sighs* “Well, guess she’ll have to figure it out by herself, then.”

The next day, I’m again going through the applications.

Me: “[Coworker], believe it or not, it’s [Customer] again… for the same books as yesterday.”

Coworker: “Are you kidding me?”

The next day, the phone rings and I answer it.

Me: “[My Name], [Library]. How may I help you?”

Customer: “Hello, this is [Customer]! I tried to renew my books twice, but it hasn’t gone through and I haven’t heard anything from you about it.”

I’m working at an insurance office. Most of the time, customers come into the office in person or call if they need insurance questions answered. There is also a service hotline that they can call that is not directly connected to the office where I work.

When I get to work one day, around half past eight, there is a drunk customer waiting in front of the office already. He immediately starts berating me.

Customer: “Why are you still closed?! You’re supposed to be open at 8:20!”

I point at the door where the hours are printed.

Me: “We open at 9:00.”

Customer: *Angry* “I have a letter that states you open at 8:20!”

I’ve worked at this office for about two years and we have never opened before nine. The customer drunkenly starts ruffling through the letter of proof from a bag to show me. He takes several minutes to find the information and then points to it, shouting:

Customer: “See, it’s 8:20!”

He pointed at the service hours of the hotline, which were 8:00 to 20:00. I pointed this out to him, and he was NOT happy.

Naturally, I did not let him enter before 9:00. I already knew what he wanted, so I prepared everything for him to give a signature only. His stay lasted under three minutes, but regardless, the offices reeked of alcohol afterward and I had to struggle not to vomit.

There is a store where you can rent a wet vacuum cleaner for free for like a week when purchasing a specific detergent. I use this service once or twice a year.

This year, I’ve been told that you have to provide a certain amount of money as a pledge, since there was a lot of trouble with devices which were returned damaged or even were never returned ever — despite the fact that you have to provide your ID along with the rental procedure.

As I was not sure if the amount was €400 or €200, and I don’t want to call in again and ask, I put €400 into my purse. Right as I proceed with the rental procedure and ask if it was €400 or €200, as I could provide both amounts, the employee states:

Employee: “We have so many people complaining about the €200 deposit and you’re actually bringing €400 with you; that’s something new.”

I hope I restored a little faith with how much I value their service.

I see an older man standing in front of the counter, so I assume he wants to order and head over. I look young, but I’m twenty-five and married.

Me: “Hello! What can I do for you today?”

Customer: “Oh, I don’t know yet what I’ll like. I’m just waiting for my wife here. She will then tell me what I want!”

He tells me this in a weirdly solemn voice, so I assume he is joking. I attempt to joke with him.

Me: “I’m sure you can know yourself what you’ll like if you try!”

Customer: *In a completely serious tone now* “I see you obviously don’t have a man in your life. Don’t you know that as soon as a man is married, his wife gets to make all the decisions?”

I wait for him to start laughing, but he only stares down at me. I realize he’s actually serious.

Me: *Uncomfortable* “Uh, well, I’m going to ask my husband how he feels about that when I get home.” 

Customer: “Oh, yes. Ask him. I will wait for my wife.”

He didn’t move an inch from his spot and kept staring at me while I continued with my tasks until another customer approached me. I attended several more customers before an older woman entered the store who turned out to be his wife. I saw him show her something on my counter. I could not make out what they were saying, but they had a short discussion and then the wife ushered her husband out, without buying anything.

I still don’t know if I should feel sorry for that man… but he seemed to absolutely believe what he said.

I’m in line to check out. The old woman in front of me is still loading her items but there is still plenty of space for me to place a divider and my items, as I only have four things. Queen of the conveyor belt doesn’t like this and turns to give me a death glare. She is trying to spread each and every single item out on the belt, taking more space than she actually needs.

She’s also standing right in front of the card reader and staring intently at the customer who is currently being checked out. When it’s her turn to check out, she speaks very condescendingly to the cashier.

He starts to ring up some slightly bruised tomatoes and she stops him.

Customer: “No, no, not those! Those are bad.”

Cashier: “Okay, then I will set them aside.”

Customer: “No! I still want them; I just don’t want to pay for them! They’re bad! You’re just going to throw them out anyway!”

Cashier: “Well, I don’t have the authority to make that call.”

Customer: “Fine, then I don’t want them!”

Cashier: “Sorry, I don’t own the store, so I can’t make that decision.”

Customer: *Rolling her eyes* “Ugh, I know that!”

She then took forever to pay and to pack her things. What bothers me most is that she deliberately picked out “bad” tomatoes, hoping she could bully the minimum-wage cashier into giving them to her for free — or perhaps she hoped a manager would get involved.