(It’s been a very slow week at work. My manager tells me to go ahead and take a specific day off, since they don’t expect it to be suddenly busy. That day, I’m at home and get a call from work.)

Manager: “[My Name], is everything okay?”

Me: “Uh, yeah, why?”

Manager: “You didn’t come in on time. Did you write down the wrong time?”

Me: “You told me not to worry about coming in today.”

Manager: “You know what? I did. Sorry about that! Have a great day!”

(She apologized when I came in for my next shift. At least she was worried instead of upset!)

(My friend is at a grocery store that also has a pharmacy counter in it. He stops by the pharmacy, but as it’s fairly early in the morning, the counter isn’t open yet. He goes to find an employee:)

Friend: “Excuse me, could you tell me when the pharmacy will be open? I was just over there, but I didn’t see the hours posted anywhere.”

Employee: “Oh, yeah, the pharmacy’s right over there!” *points*

Friend: “No, sorry, I know where the pharmacy is. I was just there. I’d like to know when it will be open.”

Employee: “Yeah, so, the pharmacy is just right over there.” *points to it again*

Friend: “…”

(This repeats a few more times, until:)

Employee: *gives directions to pharmacy yet again*

Friend: “Right. Thanks.” *wanders off to find a different employee to ask*

(After telling me this story:)

Me: “Maybe if you had asked for directions instead, they would’ve told you when it opens!”

(I’m a manager at a pet store and we do allow people to bring their pets into the store. However, we do have stipulations.)

Me: *answering phone* “Hello, [Pet Store], how may I help you?”

Caller: “My puppy has fleas; can you help?”

Me: “I think we can; we have many items to help with fleas. Can I ask you about your puppy?”

(He goes on to explain about his puppy, and it’s obvious over the phone he’s got a bad flea problem.)

Me: “I can help you right away if you come to the store. Just ask for me.”

Caller: “Okay, I’ll be right there. Is it okay if I bring my puppy?”

Me: “Sir, while we do allow pets in the store, I’m going to ask that you do not bring your puppy, because we do not want our other guests to get infested.”

Caller: “Okay, I understand. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

(Sure enough, about ten minutes later a man shows up, but he does have his puppy with him and it is literally covered head to toe in fleas.)

Me: “Sir, aren’t you the man I just spoke with on the phone? Didn’t I ask you not to bring your puppy?”

Caller: “Yes, but I wanted you to see just how bad it was!”

(I managed to get him to take his puppy outside. He was actually a very nice customer and very happy to have me help him out, and eventually, he did see why he shouldn’t have brought his dog into the store.)

(I am working after school at my family’s pizza place during the winter of 2016. I am working at the counter and have just helped a few other students from my high school, one of whom is wearing a red hat with the text “Make Eorzea Great Again” on it. Eorzea is a fictional land from a popular online video game. The hat is essentially a meme, poking fun at the MAGA hats of the current presidential campaign. I smile at the kids from my school and tell them I’ll bring their slices over to them when they’re ready then begin helping my next customer.)

Me: “Hello! What can I get started for you?”

(Nothing but visible anger and grumbling.)

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t catch that.”

(She walks over to the booth the prior customers sat down in and grabs the red hat off of the one student’s head.)

Angry Customer: “How can you even serve these people here? It’s f****** disgusting!”

(I see where this is going. I’ve certainly got political beliefs of my own, especially for a sixteen-year-old, but I wouldn’t dream of bringing them to my family’s restaurant. I stifle a giggle and can’t quite suppress the accompanying smile as she cuts me off before I can point out her mistake.)

Angry Customer: “How can you be laughing about this? Trump wants to send you all back to Mexico!”

(I’m Italian; my entire family is Italian. We have perhaps slightly darker skin than your run-of-the-mill northern European along with dark hair and eyes. I can’t say I’m so much insulted by the idea that she thinks I’m Hispanic — since there’s nothing bad about being Hispanic — but more just perplexed by it since, after all, we are literally in my family’s pizza place. Can you get more Italian than that? My mom peeks at me from deeper in the kitchen; she’s a very shy person, though, and despite her willingness to step in I don’t want her to have to.)

Me: “I’m genuinely sorry that you’re upset. For what it’s worth, my family immigrated here more than ninety years ago from Italy, so we won’t be going anywhere and you don’t have to worry about us—”

(I see her face drop as she realizes her mistake but then she seems to refocus her anger on the hat. She interrupts me.)

Angry Customer: “That doesn’t matter! You still shouldn’t be serving these scum!”

(She takes the hat over to the soda pump and soaks it in cola. I mentally prepare for having to pay for this kid’s hat now.)

Me: “Ma’am, just look at the d*** hat.” *rubs the bridge of my nose, done with her, and grabs the slices that are ready for the students along with some drink cups* “What does it say?”

(I set down their stuff at their table. Thankfully, they’re good sports and are just cracking up at this rather than escalating the situation.)

Angry Customer: “I know what it says! So do you! It’s racist!”

(I take the hat from her and turn it around, dripping soda onto the floor in the process, and point out the entirely fictitious place listed instead of America.)

Me: “Do you know where that is? It’s in a video game. You ripped a hat off a student from [High School] and drenched it in soda all because you got angry at what you mistakenly thought it said. At this point, I don’t even want to serve you. I think it’s best if you leave.”

Angry Customer: “That’s not the point! Why are you defending them?! It’s still furthering his agenda! Are you people here racists, too?”

(My mom has apparently gone to grab my dad who is… certainly not shy. He’s also not thrilled that he’s overheard someone calling his daughter a racist.)

Dad: “You need to leave. Now.”

(He comes around the counter and the lady yells, yanks the students’ pizza off the table and onto the floor, and takes off out the door. Dad shakes his head, smiles at me, and goes back into the restaurant, presumably to grab something to clean up the mess.)

Me: “I’m sorry about your hat and the wait, guys. I’m sure I’ll be able to comp your meal and we can pay for a new hat or something.”

Customer With The Hat: *still laughing to the point of crying* “Don’t worry about any of that! It’s all good; we don’t mind waiting as long as I can rinse this out somewhere… but did it occur to you to tell her you’re the president of the Young Conservatives at school?”

(We all shared a good laugh at that and I made some friends. I still play that online game with those guys!)

(For a short while, the shop I work at has four workers — including me — who have similar distinguishing features. This kind of interaction happens often, but only once when all of us are working at the same time.)

Customer: “Hi. I’m here to proof an order. I can’t remember the person who helped me, but she wears glasses and has long brown hair.”

Me: “Well, that could be any of us. If you let me know what name your order is under, I could complete it for you.”

Customer: “Umm, I’d rather continue working with the person I placed the order with. There are some details I wanted to make sure were done correctly and we had already started talking about that.”

Me: “Okay. Was there anything else that would help let me know who it was?”

Customer: “I think she had tattoos.”

Me: “Well, that eliminates one of us. It can’t be [Coworker #1].”

([Coworker #2] walks by with a stack of paper in their arms.)

Me: “[Coworker #2], did you happen to help this gentleman with his order?”

Coworker #2: *takes a moment to jog her memory* “I’m sorry, but I don’t think so. Did you check with [Coworker #1]? She was working yesterday.”

Me: “No, he says it was a woman wearing glasses with long brown hair and tattoos.” *addressing the customer* “Excuse me for a moment and let me check with [Coworker #3].”

(I head into the back and ask [Coworker #3] to take a glance and see if this was their customer. They, too, do not recognize the customer and I’m starting to be at a loss. As a last resort, I go into the break room where [Coworker #1] is eating their lunch and ask them to take a glance at the customer through the break room’s door.)

Coworker #1: *sighs* “Yeah, that’s him. I can take care of it now.”

Me: “Don’t worry. I’ll let him know that you’re on break and that if it’s absolutely necessary that he can either wait for you or I can complete the order.” *whispering* “He seems dense enough that I could convince him that I’m you.”

(I head back to the front where the customer has been waiting while mentally face-palming about this whole interaction. I show them the proof, and he reviews the spelling, for which I have to point to each item and ask if it is correct because he only seems to be glancing at the text and saying it looks fine. He also becomes very dismissive of the details he was fretting over previously. I mark down the corrections and complete the transaction.)

Me: “I’ll have [Coworker #1] finish up your order, but—” *out of morbid curiosity* “—do you mind me asking why you said that the person who started your order has tattoos? She actually abhors them.”

Customer: “All of your coworkers, and yourself, have tattoos, so I just assumed she did.”

Me: *pause* “Okay, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

(When my coworker came back from break and I told her about the interaction, we joked about having to do a police line-up for future customers like that.)