At our store, we have a lot of employee turnover because of younger, college-aged people leaving. I’m trying to do my best to cover for areas that are understaffed, so I’m in the backroom unpacking boxes, leaving the door open to let air circulate in. Later, my manager walks close by with a customer.

Manager:
“Is that all you needed, then?”

Customer:
“Is that a girl in your backroom?”

Manager:
“Oh, her? Yes, she’s just taking some shifts to help unpack all the new stock.”

Customer:
“You shouldn’t have little girls doing that kind of work in the back. She’ll hurt herself and sue you!”

Manager:
“I’m pretty confident in her ability to get this done.”

Customer:
“She’ll hurt herself!”

Manager:
“She’s the only associate I have trained to do this kind of work on staff right now. She’s perfectly fine.”

The customer walks away, seething.

Customer:
*While leaving* “She’ll hurt herself and sue you!”

I go to a local game store. It’s just me and the cashier at first. I’m there to make a return, but I notice some new merchandise and start browsing before completing my return. During this, two men walk in, both absolutely reeking of marijuana, which is illegal in this state. They approach the cashier before me.

Customer #1:
*Sounding frustrated* “Listen, I keep getting your stupid magazine. I don’t want this s***! But every time I come here it’s like you’re just making me pay for it. Is this a f****** joke to you?”

The cashier responds in a perfectly polite customer service voice.

Cashier:
“I’m sorry that it’s upsetting you, sir. You get it free with the [rewards membership]. We don’t take orders for the magazine otherwise, so it isn’t costing you anything.”

Customer #1:
*Raising his voice* “And just what the f*** am I supposed to do with this bulls***?!”

Cashier:
“That’s up to you, sir. It’s a free magazine. I can make a note in your account that you don’t want the magazine, but beyond that, I have no control.”

Customer #1:
*Aggressive* “And what would you say if I said I’d cancel my [rewards membership] if you punks sent me another magazine?”

Cashier:
“What’s your membership number?”

Customer #2:
“You’re not even going to try to keep him as a member?”

Cashier:
“I’m truly sorry this has been so upsetting, but I have no control over national magazine distribution. I’m only a cashier in a tiny location, in a tiny town. If you’d like, I can give you a copy of corporate’s number and you can try asking them for further help.”

Customer #1:
“Well, f*** you, f*** this store, and f*** this town!”

They both stormed out, cussing. I was honestly worried I’d have to call the police for a minute. After they left, I did my transaction and chatted with the cashier and let him vent about how stupid the whole confrontation was.

(I work as a hostess at a local pizza joint in my hometown. It is a really busy night, the house is packed, and I am pretty tired from working a double today and yesterday. I am stretching my back out behind the hostess’ counter when an elderly gentleman comes up to pay for his family’s dinner.)

Older Guy: “You know, I could probably fix that for you.”

Me: “Oh, my back? Are you a chiropractor or something?”

Older Guy: *just as his wife walks up behind him* “No… just a really good lover.”

(Cue me laughing awkwardly and then taking a pile of dirty dishes from a coworker so I could scurry off to the back.)

(I am craving Rangoon, which is cream cheese and sometimes spices or meat, wrapped in a thin dough and fried. I go to a locally-owned restaurant I’ve never been to before. It could be Chinese-themed, but I am not sure. The menu says, “cream cheese wontons plate,” which is a very similar dish. Good enough, I figure. When I receive the order, instead of the delicious little treat I wanted, I’m given a plate of flat, fried dough, like a plate of homemade potato chips basically.)

Me: “Excuse me, I didn’t order chips. I ordered the wontons.”

Server: *walks away without answering or saying anything*

(A manager is sent over.)

Manager: *surprisingly aggressive* “What do you want?!”

Me: *startled, gesturing to the plate* “Uh, I ordered wontons, not chips.”

Manager: *raises his voice* “Well, too bad! Those are our wontons!” 

Me: *confused but getting tired of his attitude* “Uh, well, no, they’re not wontons. These are chips. Wontons have filling.”

Manager: *still unusually aggressive, and leaning over me as though to threaten or intimidate me* “Well, that’s how we do wontons! What now?!”

Me: *blunt, but speaking calmly and quietly* “You can’t sell fried duck made from chicken. This is the same. The menu said, ‘cream cheese wontons.’ Where is the cream cheese?”

Manager: *grabs the plate and slams it violently onto the ground, shattering it, then shrieks* “Well, now it’s not a problem!”

(He stormed into the kitchen and started shouting in another language. The lady at the cash register was apologetic and told me to leave without paying for either the “wontons” or my soda. A friend said that they used to make proper wontons and they didn’t know what the reason for the change could be. I haven’t been back since. The business is still there, shockingly, despite never having customers inside.)

(Since my wife takes the car to work, I take the bus to school. There is a bus stop right next to the house so it’s no trouble. Normally, there’s no problem with this arrangement as the majority of bus drivers are relatively attentive and will stop if they see people. Then, there’s this time. He flies right past me, leaving me screaming and chasing the bus. A passenger yells at the bus driver which forces him to stop after a couple of blocks. I decide to be cool about it, even though it seriously irritates me.)

Bus Driver: *passive, not even looking towards me* “Sorry ’bout that.”

Me: “I guess we all have off days.”

(I pay for my ride and sit. During the ride, he stops for people who start talking to him; clearly they know each other. They don’t even pay but he lets them sit and keeps talking. They don’t even ask for a stop but he does stop where they need to go. Right as I’m starting to think it was just a one-off moment, he blows past the next bus stop, where an old, thin man with a walking cast is holding his cane up to ask to get on the bus. I shout at the bus driver to stop. He backs up the bus about 200 feet back to the stop, incredibly dangerous. The old man gets on the bus, and the driver doesn’t apologize. Now my stop is coming up, so I pull the stop-request lever, naively assuming that the bus driver knows this means the next bus stop is where I want to go. I am mistaken and he blows by my stop.)

Me: “Excuse me! I pulled the lever! Stop the bus!”

Bus Driver: “This isn’t one of my stops! I don’t have to!”

Me: *standing up, which means if he keeps driving he is knowingly endangering passengers so he’s forced to stop if he doesn’t want to get fired* “Actually, you do. The official stops are to denote expected timing. You have to stop whenever people are at bus stops, and at the next stop when someone pulls the lever!”

(He stops the bus in the middle of a busy intersection, a couple of blocks away from my stop.)

Bus Driver: *aggressive and angry* “GET OFF MY BUS!”

Me: *mocking and snarky* “WITH PLEASURE! Have a NICE. DAY.”

(I got off the bus and immediately called the bus dispatch and complained about him, both about what happened to me and to the old man. It turns out he had just barely gotten out of mandatory retraining, and this was his first day back after having been forced off the job for a legal infraction. I don’t know if he’s still working for the bus company, but he was taken off my route and one of the good bus drivers returned!)