I work at a hotel front desk and dealing with entitled high-rollers is usually fairly easy. It gets hard some days being talked down to and treated like crap; usually, I can brush it off and keep my attitude up.

A guest comes up to me.

Guest: “I’d like to give my high-roller room to my friends here; my host already said it was fine.”

Hosts take care of the high-rollers, giving them free rooms, free food and drink, extra play cash, and all that to encourage them to spend even more money here and not at our competitors.

Me: “Okay! Not a problem. Let me take a look at the notes and make sure they have updated everything properly.”

I get both their IDs and I find — with no surprise — that there are no notes. I hunt through emails but find nothing. I call the host and they have no idea what I’m talking about. Cue the guest getting mad, and she drops the name of her host who, of course, isn’t here today.

Me: “I’m sorry, but the only way we can get this figured out is for you to stop by the host office and talk to them. Per policy, I cannot make your room hosted and free.”

She grouches and grumbles and heads off. Her guest stays with me.

Me: “Would you mind moving to the side so I can help the guest behind you?”

While checking in, I hear her guests talking, and the husband just doesn’t want to bother with the free room and wants to just pay to get in. They go to check in with my coworker, and just as she goes to make keys, the system kicks her out because the host went into it.

By now, it’s too late; the card has already been run. I don’t know if the host fixed it afterward so the amount paid would be refunded after checkout or what.

Not more than three minutes later, the high-roller comes back and starts yelling at me about “letting” them check in without waiting.

Me: “I can’t control when people make a decision. I can only do my job.”

Guest: “This was taken care of and you just ruined it!”

Me: “No, ma’am, I can only go by policy and communication from the host. Since I had nothing here to refer to, I did the only thing I could.”

Guest: “I don’t care! We had figured this out and you ruined it! Rude!”

She starts walking away. I look to my right, thinking about getting my stress reliever out of my bag. This is also in her direction and she takes my look the wrong way.

Guest: “Don’t you look at me in that tone!”

I don’t say anything at this point, just trying to keep my fight or flight response in check.

Guest: “I spend thousands of dollars here—”

I finally lose my cool.

Me: “I DON’T FLIPPING CARE HOW MUCH YOU SPEND! THAT DOESN’T GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO TREAT ME LIKE CRAP!”

I hear my coworker say my name and I realize what I just did.

Guest: “You don’t f****** care, huh? We will see about that!”

She heads off to the host office. My coworker tells me to go take a break.

Me: “Nope, I’m going to go talk to [Hotel Manager].”

I speed-walked to her office, trying to hold back tears, and when I got there, my coworker had already called her and the host office had demanded a meeting. My manager is amazing and listened to my side before going to the meeting. She told me to go eat some lunch and come back.

After getting calming help from my mother-in-law, who works in another department, I went and ate and then went to wait for my manager in her office. She didn’t write me up or suspend me like I was expecting. She sent me home for the day and said I could come in early the next day. My coworker backed me up saying that I didn’t cuss, just got loud.

The next day, all my coworkers told me how much they wished they could have told a high-roller what I told her. I discovered my husband thinks it’s hot when I stand up for myself. Even that high-roller’s host told me she’s done it, too.

She couldn’t even place that guest’s name in her own head. How much do you want to bet the guest was dropping names to get her way?

I used to work the swing shift — 4:00 pm to 12:00 am — at a gas station. One time, we were scheduled to have corporate people come by in the morning. I was asked to stay later and help get the store “up to standards” so the graveyard shift wouldn’t have to do it all.

So, finally, at 2:00 am, I started home. I came to a stop sign near a railroad crossing and waited for it to turn green. And waited. And waited. After about seven minutes, I realized it was a stop sign, not a light. It doesn’t change. I proceeded home, feeling more than a little stupid.

I’m a security guard at the local market. I see a regular customer come in with his teenage daughter. Most employees and some other regulars know that the daughter has autism, and she always wears earmuffs when out in public due to her sensitive hearing.

Me: “Good morning, [Regular]. Morning, [Daughter].”

Regular: “Morning.”

The daughter just smiles and gives a small wave. They go about their shopping and I think nothing more of it.

About twenty minutes later, a loud crash comes from the back of the store. I rush over and find the regular holding his daughter, who’s currently holding her earmuffs tightly and rocking in place. Another customer is yelling his head off at the daughter. Several wine bottles are shattered on the floor.

Angry Customer: “You stupid b****! If you had taken off those f****** headphones, you’d have heard me coming around the corner!”

The regular is gently trying to soothe his daughter while talking in an even tone to the customer.

Regular: “Sir, I apologize on my daughter’s behalf for getting in your way, but I must ask that you tone it down. She’s very sensitive to loud noises, and we don’t need—”

Angry Customer: “It’s not my fault your daughter’s a [ableist slur]! Look at this f****** mess!”

I can see the regular struggling to keep his composure, and I know the only thing keeping him from decking the other customer is that he doesn’t want to aggravate his daughter any further. I quickly step in.

Me: “Okay, that’s enough. Nobody’s hurt. Sir, I suggest you continue with your shopping and please leave these two alone.”

Angry Customer: “Stay out of this, rent-a-cop! I make three times your salary! Who are you to order me around?!”

The owner arrives and sees the commotion.

Owner: “What’s going on?”

I quickly recap the situation while the angry customer continues to curse and scream, and at one point, I even have to stop him from trying to reach over and rip off her earmuffs.

Owner: *To me* “Kick his a** out now. I’m calling the police.” *Walks away*

Me: “All right, sir, time to go. You’re causing a disturbance and you’re no longer welcome here.”

Angry Customer: “Shut the f*** up! This is public property! I have a right to be wherever the f*** I want!”

Me: “Actually, this store is private property, and you’re now considered trespassing, so I suggest you leave your groceries and leave, as the police are on the way.”

Angry Customer: “F*** this place! I hope it burns down with all of you inside, especially that [ableist slur]!” *Storms away*

I check on the regular and his daughter while the janitor shows up to clean the mess.

Me: “Are you two all right? Sorry about this.”

The daughter is still rocking violently despite her father’s soothing.

Regular: “She’ll be fine, but I’d better take her home. I’m sorry. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

The police arrived fifteen minutes later and took information on the incident. They said to call again if the customer came back; fortunately, he never did.

The regular and his daughter came back the next day like he said, and thankfully, she seemed to be back to normal!

My mom and I are at the store and head into the cosmetics section so she can get a few things. I don’t wear makeup and am not interested in doing so, so I poke about while she looks over makeup shades… until something fun catches my eye.

Me: “Hey, Mom, look! Planet-themed bath bombs!”

Mom: “That’s cool.” *Goes back to browsing*

Me: “And the different planets have different scents. Venus is citrus-scented.”

Mom: “That’s cool.”

Me: “Earth is ocean-scented. And the moon is vanilla.”

Mom: “That’s cool.”

Me: *Pauses* “I would hate to find out what the Uranus bath bomb smells like.”

I am a white-passing femme-presenting person. It’s winter and it’s snowing, so I’m wearing a matching knit set of gloves, beanie, and scarf. Since my hair is kind of short, I like to make sure my neck is 100% protected from the cold wind by wrapping the scarf and tucking it against the lower edge of the hat firmly, leading to it vaguely looking like one long piece of knitwear.

Some old guy is standing in the middle of campus whining about democrats, Obamacare — which isn’t even available in this state at the time — and tuition, face as red as a toddler throwing a tantrum. He’s yelling at some very disinterested-looking young people who are unfortunately waiting for the bus and are thus a captive audience.

Man: “I don’t want to pay for your college! That’s your problem! It’s not fair to make me pay for your liberal arts degree! You need to pay me!”

I glance back at the sign for the dental school’s building, not twenty feet from him, which is very much not considered a liberal arts program

Me: “Sir, you’re disrupting anyone taking their pre-dental classes in that room. Please quiet down. No one cares what you think.”

Man: *Yelling* “AND WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU [ARABIC SLUR]?”

Me: “I’m a Native American. And I’m also paler than you. Maybe you should go back to your own country.”

He loses steam; he is clearly not used to being challenged by people half his size.

Man: “Uh, well! Well! The f*** do you call that dumb thing on your head?!”

I unwrap the scarf a little bit, speaking slowly to mock his intelligence.

Me: “This part is called a ‘scarf.’ The other part is a ‘hat.’”

The people waiting for the bus started laughing, causing this gigantic toddler to kick the pole for the bus sign in rage, then cuss in pain and limp away. Whenever I saw him harassing my fellow students after that, he’d put his tail between his legs and hurriedly leave like I was Satan himself.