My best guy friend and I have made plans to see the Avengers premiere. We have our seats and our posters and I have my popcorn when this guy approaches us.

Guy: “Excuse me.”

I think he wants to move past so I tuck in my legs.

Guy: “No, you’re in my seat.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Guy: “Get out of my seat.”

I’m getting flustered as my friend preordered the tickets and has the confirmation on his phone but his phone is turned off. My friend, who is very protective of me, notices I’m getting flustered.

Friend: “Is something wrong?”

Guy: “Yes. This girl is in my seat.”

Friend: “No, it’s her seat. See?”

He turns on his phone and shows it to the guy, who still isn’t convinced and keeps insisting I need to get out. Eventually, my friend’s tone turns icy. He’s built like a security guard.

Friend: “All right. Let’s see your ticket.”

Guy: “Pardon?”

Friend: “I proved my friend is supposed to be here. Show me your ticket.”

The guy smugly pulls out his phone and shows it to my friend who has a flat expression.

Friend: “First of all… that is for Captain Marvel. This is Avengers. Second of all, this is the 7:00 showing and your ticket is for the 8:00, and thirdly, she’s in Row M seat 4, and yours says Row N seat 14.”

The guy goes pale and starts flipping through his phone to find his Avengers ticket before, defeated, slinking out.

Me: “Thanks, man.”

Friend: “No problem.”

We enjoyed the movie and my friend shared his pop tarts with me.

In our office, we have two models of desk phones: the older model has a series of buttons up and down each side and the newer model has just a touch screen. All of the functions are similar, except — as I find out — one of them.

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name], why don’t you blind-transfer calls?”

Me: “Uh… because I didn’t get shown how to do that. Also, what is that?”

Coworker: “It’s where you transfer, but it shows the number of the person you’re transferring instead of yours.”

Me: “Oh! How do you do that?!”

Coworker: “You hit the transfer button twice before typing in the extension.”

Me: “Ah, that’ll be a problem.”

Coworker: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I’ve got the touch screen phone. Once you hit ‘transfer,’ the only options are ‘dial’ and ‘cancel.’”

Coworker: “Well, just hit it twice.”

Me: “There’s nothing to hit twice; you hit it the first time and it goes away.”

Coworker: “No, just hit the button twice.”

Me: “I don’t have a button. It’s a touch screen.”

Coworker: “Look, if you just don’t want to do it, then say so. You don’t have to—”

Me: “Would you just come to my desk and look?!”

She did. I pointed it out. She at least admitted she hadn’t realized, although I didn’t get an actual “sorry” out of her!

My wife and I have some checks to deposit so we drive to our bank’s drive-thru. I haven’t signed the checks yet so I stop just short of the drive-thru and sign them. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice some guy run past the front of the car just as I am finishing.

I pull up and hit the request button and… nothing. There aren’t any tellers visible in the window but the lights are on. We are confused and think maybe the bank has closed, but some other cars pull in then. Still no tellers.

A guy in the car closest to the building gets out and peers in the window.

Guy: “Everyone inside is lying on the floor!”

Just then police cars — over a dozen! — came zooming in from every direction with lights but no sirens. The bank had been robbed.  

After getting some money, the robber told everyone to get down and stay down and then ran right past the front of our car after exiting the emergency exit right by the drive-thru. Unfortunately, I couldn’t describe him, though it turned out he’d been caught on camera. No one was actually hurt.

My cashier shift is ending soon so I begin to clean up my area. A customer approaches me while I have my back turned to my register.

Customer: “You open?”

Me: “I can be.”

I turn around as my customer leaves some clothes on my counter and says he’s going to go look at the sunglasses.

Me: “Please take your items with you, since I am about to leave and won’t be about to watch them!”

The customer gives me a “yeah, yeah” response. I get annoyed and put his clothes on our go-back rack.

Ten minutes later:

Customer: “What happened to my clothes?”

Me: “I told you to take them with you because I am not responsible if another customer picks them up.”

Customer: “Well, that is ridiculous. How was I supposed to know?”

Me: “I have them here, but for future reference, please take them with you. We don’t hold items since the registers are so busy.”

I check him out and he leaves the store only to come back a few minutes later while I am checking out a young customer.

Customer: “I lost some s***. I think my keys.”

I look at my younger customer and ask for a few moments because someone brought some keys and a cellphone up the customer service because they found them on the floor.

Me: “Did you lose just your keys, or something else?”

Customer: “Just my keys. Wait, do you have money too?”

Me: “No, I have keys and something else you usually keep on you. Anything else you’ve lost?”

Customer: “No, you think I’m stupid?”

Me: “Do you have your cell phone on you?”

Customer: *Checks his pockets* “NO! I don’t!”

Me: “What does your cell phone look like?”

Customer: “Umm… uh… Samsung and cracked screen.”

It matches, so I give him his items. He leaves the store and my young customer looks at me.

Young Customer: “Is that what people on drugs act like?”

Me: “Possibly, always be aware of your surroundings. Always.”

Young Customer: “Oh, no! He’s coming back.”

After the guy had retrieved his cell phone and his keys, he forgot he’d left his purchase on the ledge next to the exit doors. My customer was so scared.

I’m working in a fast food restaurant as a cashier, and a woman comes in. All of our kids’ meals are preset so you automatically get fries and a drink with them.

Me: “Hi, ho—”

Customer: “Yeah, I want the [Kids’ Meal] burger.”

Me: “Okay.”

Customer: “What comes on that?”

Me: “For the kids’ one, we have only pickles and mustard on it, and for the regular one we—”

Customer: “I didn’t ask you about the regular, did I?!”

Me: “I just thought I’d be helpful, ma’am.”

Customer: “Whatever.”

Me: “So, pickles and mustard is good, ma’am?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “…”

This woman is staring at me like I know what the h*** she wants.

Me: *Fed up* “Ma’am, if you don’t know what you want on your burger, maybe you should order something else.” 

Customer: “I’m not ordering anything else. I know what I want on it.”

Me: “And that is?”

Customer: “Everything that [Item #1] has.”

I enter lettuce, tomatoes, onions.

Customer: “Ew, I don’t want tomatoes.”

Me: “Okay.”

She then does this with the onions and lettuce, too.

Me: “So, then, just pickles and mustard like it was before?”

Customer: “Um, no, I said just like [Item #1].”

I’m pretty much over being polite at this point and I just want this idiot out of my line that’s growing.

Me: “Yes, ma’am, but with only mustard and pickles.”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, the—” 

Customer: “Why does it say, ‘kids’ meal’?”

Me: “All of our kids’ meals are preset to have fries and a drink.”

Customer: “Take it off.”

Me: “Take what off?”

Customer: “The meal.”

Me: “I just told you they come preset. I can’t change that.”

Customer: “This is f****** stupid.”

Me: “I’m sorry you feel that way, ma’am.”

Customer: “Yeah, I’m sure you—”

Me: “What’s the treat?”

Customer: “What? Treat?”

Me: “It’s the dessert for the meal. Which one would you like? We have fruit chews, chocolate chunk cookie, or a sugar cookie.”

Customer: “Bleh. Are those the only options? I don’t want any of those.”

I press the “no treat” button.

Customer: “I didn’t say that I wanted no treat!”

Me: *Done* “Ma’am, pick one or I’m putting no treat. You have been here for around ten minutes holding up my line and my customers are getting annoyed.”

She did eventually pick one before trying to exchange it, and then she got offended when I said we couldn’t take it back but I would get a new one for her.

She ate her meal in the restaurant, much to my dismay, and glared holes into the side of my head every time I walked past her. When she left, she didn’t throw away any of her crap and left two pennies on the table on top of a napkin that read, “Tip, b****.” We can’t accept tips, so her little act of revenge didn’t do anything. 

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