The house next door to me has been converted into luxury apartments, all of which are let via a popular lodging rental app. It’s a large, three-story Georgian house.

Access is via a key code on the door, which often causes problems for people who have not bothered to read their confirmation emails and assume that a human being will be there to greet them! On more than a few occasions, I’ve had to explain this to bewildered tourists. They are usually very polite. On one occasion, I even gave a weary traveler — just off the plane from South Africa — a hotspot so he could retrieve the code from the app.

Yesterday evening, I was leaving my house, and the second I got out the door, I was verbally accosted by a woman standing outside the house next door, with what I assume was her husband. She was in her mid-fifties, I’d say.

Before I even closed my door:

Woman: “Finally!”

Me: *Looking surprised* “Sorry?”

Woman: “We’ve been waiting here for over an hour!”

That was a lie, as they hadn’t been there when I’d come home only thirty minutes earlier.

Woman: “I’ve been ringing the doorbell and nobody’s answering!”

Me: *Trying to be polite* “Oh. Are you trying to get into the [Rental]?”

Woman: “Well, obviously! I need you to let me in immediately. This is not good enough!”

Me: “Eh, I can’t do that; you need to enter the code on the keypad.”

Woman: “What code? I don’t have time for that. Just let me in!”

Me: “I don’t have anything to do with the [Rental]; I just live next door to it. You need to enter the code on the keypad.”

Woman: “What nonsense! You’re just being lazy.”

The husband blurted out the woman’s name, and she acknowledged his existence for the first time but quickly shushed him.

Me: *Losing my patience* “Look, lady, I don’t work for the [Rental]. There is nobody there to let you in. You need to get the code they sent you and enter it on the keypad. Bye-bye.”

Then, I started to walk away quickly as I saw my bus approaching. The last thing I heard was:

Woman: “Get back here, young man! I pay your wages! I’ll have you fired for this!”

As I was regaling my friends with this tale in the pub, I wondered whether the couple would still be standing there hours later, but when I got home, they were nowhere to be seen.

I guess I should expect a write-up from my (nonexistent) manager in the morning!

It had been a long week and a long day at work, so I decided to stop at my favorite store for some decent, moderately-priced Cabernet and some bubble bath stuff. Your girl likes to be bougie on a budget.

A woman stormed up to me.

Woman: “That teenage employee over there wouldn’t get [item] for me! He claims you don’t have it! He needs to be disciplined. You should cut his pay and his hours! Or just fire him! He has zero work ethic!”

It was starting to hurt my ears.

The poor kid wasn’t far off, and he came up because HE realized that I was not employed by this store.

Woman: “I want him fired!”

Me: “I can’t do that, ma’am, and if I could, I wouldn’t.”

Woman: “What do you mean, you can’t? Aren’t you a manager here?”

Me: “No.”

Woman: “But you have a name tag. It even says ‘Manager’ on it!”

Me: “Yeah, it says ‘Property Manager’ and the name of the company I work for.”

Woman: “So, you’re still a manager, right?”

I was fed up there.

Me: “Ma’am, what does the logo on my tag say? Is there a little [logo]? Am I wearing red or whatever color managers wear here?”

Woman: “But you’re a manager! You have to help me! You have to punish him!”

Now I was fed up, baffled, and befuddled. I just wanted to get my bubbles and my Cabernet and go get in my giant tub.

I walked past her, careful not to brush against her at all so she couldn’t claim assault.

Once past her, I sped up and grabbed whatever booze and bubbles were on display so I could get to the checkout. She followed me, but I luckily made it through the checkout with my two things, escaped to my car, and drove home.

I work in a shop within a shopping centre in Australia. A part of the employee uniform is an apron with the store name embroidered on the front IN BOLD, so it’s not hard to guess where I work if I’m walking around the shops on my break. As well as the apron, we also have a name badge with the company name on it.

I’m on my lunch break, and I go into a supermarket where they wear green shirts as a uniform and NO apron. I’m minding my own business with my earphones in as I generally don’t like conversing with people, and my break is the time when I get to avoid that momentarily.

As I am filling my basket with some stuff for my lunch, as well as fruit and vegetables for my bird, this lady approaches me and asks where something is. I take out my earphone because I can’t hear her properly. I guess that’s when she realises I have earphones in?

She loses her s*** yelling at me.

Customer #1: “Employees shouldn’t be listening to music on the job! Customers come first!”

And on and on. Mind you, she’s yelling LOUDLY. I try to cut in to explain to her I don’t work there, and she begins to cry crocodile tears because:

Customer #1: “I have never been so disrespected in my whole life!”

At this point, there are few people in the aisle, and they’re looking at me with sympathy as they can clearly see I don’t work here. My brain is still in customer service mode, so by default, I kind of just stand there awkwardly and wait for her to finish her tantrum. However, there is no sign of her stopping.

Finally, another customer walks over.

Customer #2: “Look at her apron! She doesn’t work here!”

The lady huffs and replies in a very condescending tone.

Customer #1: “Well, she should’ve just told me that! It’s her fault!”

I TRIED TO TELL HER!

A five-minute shopping trip ended up taking ten minutes, but luckily, my manager is nice and let me restart my break.

I worked twelve hours today. This is the fifth day in a row, and I am exhausted. I have just clocked out and grabbed my coat and purse from the break room. I open the door and nearly run into a woman and her cart.

Woman: “Can you fetch me [paper cat litter]?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I—”

Woman: “It won’t take a minute. Just go in the back there.”

Me: “Ma’am—”

Woman: “I’m asking quite nicely!”

She slaps her hand on the handle of the cart and gives me a glare.

Me: “No.”

A moment of silence passes.

Woman: “No? You do not say no to your customers.”

I gesture to my coat and purse.

Me: “Do I look like I’m working?!”

The woman turned her cart and walked away without another word. If she reported me to management, I never heard anything about it. If she had asked nicely, I would have told her it had been discontinued and we simply didn’t have it anymore.

I love books, so I take my kids to bookstores all the time. I am in the kids’ section helping my youngest look at different books when another little boy comes up to me.

Little Boy: “Do you know where the Bad Kitty books are?”

Since I am here, I show him, he thanks me, and then I go back to what I was doing. All fine, right?

Then, a little while later, I am looking at books for myself when the little boy’s mother comes up to me.

Lady: “Where are the mystery and thriller books?”

Me: “I don’t read that genre, so I’m not sure.”

Lady: “You must be new; this is the part where you help me find them.”

Me: “I don’t work here; I’m just a customer.”

Lady: “If you don’t help me, I’ll tell your manager!”

Me: “Go ahead, ma’am. I don’t have a manager.”

I walk away, and she starts following me.

Lady: “You’re a horrible employee! You helped my son but you won’t help me?! I’m going to get you written up!”

My son comes up to me, ready to leave. I think that will make it clear to this woman that I don’t work here. Nope, she gets even angrier.

Lady: “I can’t believe you brought your child to work with you! This is ridiculous!”

She follows me all the way to the register.

Lady: *To the cashier* “Get a manager! This is the rudest employee I have ever encountered!”

The woman at the register is confused but calls a manager.

Manager: “Ma’am, this person doesn’t work here.”

Lady: *To me* “If you had just taken the time to help me find my book, this wouldn’t have happened.”

My son, who always has something to say to escalate a situation, tells her:

Son: “That’s not how you say sorry. Mom says you say it without making an excuse.”

I hustled him out of there quickly, but I couldn’t tell him he was wrong; he had a point.

I ended up taking him and his sibling out to [Coffee Shop] for a treat.