A customer I’ve come to remember as The Most Entitled Lady On Earth walks into our gift shop carrying a clear plastic container with food remnants in it. While we do have a trash can behind the counter, we try not to put food in it as it attracts mice. This trash can is not even visible to customers.

Customer: “Where do I throw this away?”

Manager: “There’s a trash can on the sidewalk, just outside the coffee shop next door.”

Customer: *Full of disdain* “I’m not walking that far.”

Then, she deposits her used food container on our counter for us to deal with. My manager and I exchange “Did she really just do that?” expressions. My manager has a kill-em-with-kindness approach to these situations.

Manager: *In an overly sweet customer service voice* “Would you like me to take that out to the trash can?”

The customer replies in a tone that suggests, “Finally, these peons are getting it.”

Customer: “Yes, thank you.”

My manager drops it off in the trash can, not more than fifteen feet outside our store’s front door. The customer browses for a bit, then, without an ounce of self-awareness, asks:

Customer: “So, how long does it take to walk to [Train Station that is roughly a thirty-five-minute walk from where we are]?”

I wish I had estimated for her how many trash cans she might pass on that thirty-five-minute walk.

I work in a gift shop that is open all year round. We have a senior discount that comes with an unfortunate policy: you have to ask to get it. We cannot ask because it offends customers and we get yelled at, we can’t assume because it offends customers and we get yelled at, and we aren’t allowed to modify complete purchases if we aren’t informed before the transaction is completed because then our accounting department yells at us.

We loophole this by having signs with bold lettering in the windows and on each countertop at every till.

A man who has purchased an item previously comes back in to buy two more items.

Me: “Hello again! Found something else?”

Customer: “Yes, and I saw you had a senior discount.” *Pointing at the sign* “I bought something before; can I get it?”

I’d peg this man at maybe forty-five tops, but we’re pretty lenient and don’t ID people. You read the sign, you have someone in your group over the young age of fifty-five, and you get a discount if you tell us before the transaction is finished. This note is also on the sign.

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t! You need to tell us before the transaction is finalized to get it. I can put it on this transaction, though! We have been yelled at for assuming, we’ve been yelled at for asking, and the people who pay us get mad at us for editing transactions, so…”

Normally, this explanation quells anger with most people or at least stops us from getting screamed at. Apparently, that is not the case with this man.

Customer: “Well, those just sound like excuses for not giving it to me.”

I pride myself on customer service, but this comment makes me internally snap. I admittedly break my customer service face a bit and drop my friendly tone for a more serious tone and deadpan stare.

Me: “Well, sir, I would love to just save people money without being verbally abused for it on a regular basis.” *Changing to a sickeningly sweet voice* “Your total is [total]!”

The rest of the transaction was completed in silence on his part. Seriously, people, there is a reason why the cashier can and cannot do things!

It is the middle of December, our busiest season for both in-store and online orders. A customer calls to complain about an order she had shipped.

Me: “Good afternoon, [My Shop]!” 

Customer: “Yeah, my name is [Customer] and I just got an order that I placed on your website; you sent it to me! Why would I want all these boxes sent to me?!“

Me: *Looking up the order* “Ma’am, it looks like you used [Customer’s Address] as the shipping information for each box.”

Customer: *Irate* “But why would I send them all to myself?!”

Me: “I don’t know, ma’am. Did you receive a confirmation email for the order?”

Customer: “Of course!”

Me: “And did you verify that the information was correct on that email?”

Customer: “I don’t have time to read things! And I don’t want all these stupid boxes; I’m allergic to chocolate! You have to send them where they were supposed to go!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but as far as we knew, you had told us where they were supposed to go in the original order… so that’s where we sent them.”

Customer: “Well, I can’t be expected to know that. Why would you send all these boxes to my address? You have to send new ones to the right addresses or my Christmas is going to be ruined! I spent all this money and you screwed up the order!”

I was too disgusted and exhausted to continue the conversation. I handed the phone to my husband, who ended up refunding the customer all of her shipping fees. Three years later, I still twitch whenever the phone rings in December.

I work at a tourist shop in Greece. Amongst other things, we sell helmets — like ancient Greek ones; tourists eat these up — that are 10€. This guy comes, obviously stoned, and asks in a slurry voice:

Customer: “How much for the helmet?”

Me: “Ten euros, sir.”

Customer: “Do you have another one?”

Me: “No, sir, this is the last one.”

His friend, who is even more stoned, comes in then.

Friend: “Do you have three?”

Me: “No, sir. As I told your friend, this is my last one.”

Then he starts to… bargain.

Friend: “Well, how about three for 20€?”

Me: “Sir, I only have one and it’s ten euros; I can’t go lower.”

Friend: “Two for 20€.”

Me: “Sir, I only have one.”

Friend: “Fine, then, one for 10€.”

Me: “Sure, it’s yours!”

I work at a gift shop in downtown Austin. We’re not exactly a huge business, but Austin’s got a lot of people in it, so there’s pretty much always enough revenue coming in to keep the place up and running. Plus, though I don’t mean to brag, a lot of the customers do talk about how nice and friendly an employee I am and how good I am at customer service.

However, my coworker is not as nice, friendly, or good at customer service. He often goes around playing pranks on the customers, scaring the children with stories, and behaving like an overall jerk to everyone who comes in the store. He is even pretty mean to the other employees, which is why most of us tend to dislike him, as well.

The manager is out sick, so [Coworker] is being more of an a**hole than usual and getting on everybody’s nerves. Apparently, his favorite hobbies when the boss isn’t around are blowing air horns in our ears at random intervals, lying to customers about where to find stuff, and doing whatever else he can think of to make us hate him more than we already do.

At one point, I am restocking shelves when I notice a little boy, seemingly about seven or eight years old, at the other end of the aisle. He doesn’t seem lost, considering he isn’t really yelling out for his parents or anything, but it also seems a little off that he would be in the glassware section of the store and not the children’s section, especially without anyone else around.

I begin to walk up to him and ask him if he is lost, when [Coworker] pops up seemingly out of nowhere and begins talking to him before I can.

Coworker: “Hey, little guy. What’s your name?”

Boy: “My name is [Boy].”

Coworker: “Well, [Boy], are you lost or anything?”

Boy: “A little. I think my mom is still in the store, but I can’t find her.”

Coworker: “That’s unfortunate. Do you know what we do with little children that get lost here?”

“Oh no,” I think. [Coworker] isn’t going to help this kid out at all.

Boy: “N-no. What?”

Coworker: “We grab ’em by the feet…”

He picks [Boy] up by his legs, at which point the boy begins screaming.

Coworker: “…and then we take ’em to the ’employees only’ part of the store and feed ’em to the hungry crocodiles!”

The boy is now really beginning to shriek, undoubtedly alerting the whole store to his presence. I, of course, have finally had my fill of [Coworker]’s d*****baggery, and I begin walking up to him to give him a piece of my mind.

Out of nowhere, a lady’s voice suddenly shouts.

Lady: “FREEZE!”

[Coworker] quickly turns his head around to his side, where he sees an armed officer pointing her gun in his direction.

Lady: “DROP THE BOY AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!”

[Coworker], of course, complied immediately and put the boy on the floor. The boy shouted, “Mommy!” The officer then put her gun back in its holster and hugged the boy tightly. I, of course, was absolutely stunned.

Of all the kids [Coworker] picked out to pick on, he chose a boy who just happened to be the son of a Dallas police officer. Honestly, I thought it was pretty incredible Karma that had taken place that day.

Long story short, while [Coworker] did manage to avoid getting arrested, the manager unsurprisingly found out about the incident and fired him from the gift shop the following day. I’m still in awe over the incident, and honestly, I think I may never be able to forget that day when the kindergarten bully in a grown man’s body got taken down by local law enforcement.