(We only have two bathrooms. We have signs posted that say, “Customers only; ask attendant for key,” and we are very strict on this rule. People come in a lot while we are in the middle of helping actual customers, and ask us to use the bathroom. Today a woman comes in and interrupts me as I am ringing up a customer.)

Woman: “May I have the key to the bathroom?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to purchase something before I can give you the key.”

Woman: *gets very snotty* “Well, I was going to buy something, but now I am going to take my business elsewhere!”

Me: “I apologize, but these are the rules.”

Woman: “Whatever. You’re going to lose a lot of business for this stupid f****** rule!”

Customer: *gets annoyed because I still haven’t been able to ring them up* “You have no right to speak to her like that. You’re the one who is interrupting her as she is trying to help a real customer. And you weren’t going to buy s***, just use this place as a rest stop. No wonder they have these rule: because of people like you!”

Woman: “It’s still a stupid rule!” *now embarrassed, storms out to her car*

(My mother goes to church with a woman who no one can stand. This includes me, even though I don’t go to church with my mom. This woman has been banned from her previous churches, various restaurants, and a few stores for being either very rude or assaulting or threatening to assault other people and employees. One day, she happens to come through the drive-thru where I work. I am in charge since my manager is at a meeting. I am in the kitchen listening to the speaker as my cashier takes her order. I recognize her voice. Everyone I work with has years of history together, so we treat each other like close family; mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.)

Cashier: “[Restaurant], how can I help you?”

Customer: “I want your [two burger promotion].”

Cashier: “Okay, which ones?”

Customer: “The [two burger promotion].”

Cashier: “The promotion includes [five different hamburgers].”

Customer: “I want the two burgers!”

(This goes on for a while before the cashier finally gets her to specify which two burgers she wants. She goes up to the window before the cashier gives her total, as I make the burgers.)

Cashier: “Just the [burgers], right? It was [total].”

Customer: “Why didn’t you tell me back there?”

Cashier: “You drove off before I could. Your total was [total].”

Customer: “No, they were [promotion price]!”

Cashier: “Yeah, that’s before tax.”

Customer: “But the sign says it’s [price]!”

Cashier: “The fine print of the sign also says, ‘plus tax where applicable.’ Everything sold in this state is taxed.”

Customer: “So, you think you Mexicans can take my money because California feels sorry for you being brown?”

Cashier: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I bet there’s not a d*** person with a decent education in here!”

(I finish the burgers and overhear the conversation; my fryer guy is becoming livid about her racism. I tell him to go calm down in the freezer, then come around the corner to the front and ask the cashier to step back. I lean against the window counter and smile.)

Me: “Hey, [Customer]. Remember me, [Mom]’s daughter?”

Customer: “Oh, yes. I didn’t think you worked here. How are you?”

Me: “Zip it.”

(She looks at me, mortified. I hear the cashier gasp a bit.)

Me: “I’ve listened to this whole thing. You have no right to come here and berate my friend about a price she has no control over. If you were any other customer, we’d deal with it and let it go. But this time I’ve had enough. I will be informing [Pastor] and [Mom] about this. None of us will serve you here again, since 95% of the staff is Latino. Get out.”

(I close and lock the window as she screams and drives off. I go back into the kitchen to find the fryer guy listening in.)

Cashier: “Holy crap, dude!”

Fryer Guy: “Did you just tell her you’re going to tell your mom?”

Me: “She goes to her church; everyone hates her because she acts like that everywhere.”

Fryer Guy: “That b**** goes to church? For what, being the body to send exorcised demons to?”

(An hour later the phone rings and the cashier answers. She hands it to me, smiling.)

Cashier: “It’s church lady.”

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “Are you the manager?”

Me: “At the moment.”

Customer: “One of your employees yelled at me!”

Me: “Really? I bet she was fed up. Did you happen to call and rant to [Mom] about it yet? If you haven’t, tell her I said hi and I’ll be home late.”

(She gasped and hung up. I got home and explained to my mom what happened. She laughed and promptly told the pastor. He scheduled a meeting with her about her behavior. Not very Christian of her to act like that.)

(I am the customer in this story, watching the cashier interact with another customer getting samples. We are at a very popular frozen yogurt chain with the word “yogurt” clearly in the title.)

Customer: “This is very good. Is it ice cream or yogurt?”

Cashier: *pause* “Yogurt.”

Customer: “Really? It tastes like ice cream.”

Cashier: “Well, it’s supposed to. It has all the rich creaminess of ice cream but less calories.”

Customer: “No, this is ice cream! You’re lying to me!”

Cashier: “Ma’am, I promise you that this is frozen yogurt. It’s very similar to ice cream, but it’s not ice cream.”

Customer: “But—”

Me: “Look, the cashier already told you it was frozen yogurt. The word yogurt is in the name of this restaurant. If you want ice cream, then go somewhere else. If you want yogurt, then get a bowl full of one of the ten samples you’ve already tried for free. But stop making this poor cashier’s job harder.”

(The customer turned red and stormed out, and I got my fro-yo for free!)

(I have asked my partner to try to keep the peace when visiting my parents. To their credit, they have managed to be completely neutral this entire week. We’re supposed to be heading to dinner. My partner is already in the car, but my parents keep me in the house to lecture me. They go on for a while about how worthless I am, until my partner comes in to check on me.)

Partner: “[My Name]?! Why are you crying?”

Dad: “It’s nothing.”

Mom: “See, she’s coming in to help you now, but how can you expect her to do that forever? You can’t do anything on your own! Eventually, she’s going to leave you and—”

Partner: “F*** YOU!”

Parents: *startled*

Partner: “How dare you say I would leave? How dare you say [My Name] isn’t worth the whole world?! F*** YOU!”

Dad: “Don’t you dare curse at my wife!”

Partner: “Don’t you dare treat [My Name] like this!”

(There’s a staredown, and things are tense. My partner breaks the tension by taking me out of the house. We call a cab and leave. A week later, my grandmother calls me.)

Grandma: “I heard she cursed at your mother! I cannot believe you would be with someone like that!”

Me: “Mom told me I was useless and that [Partner] would leave me!”

Grandma: *pause* “Well, it was still rude of her to curse. That girl has no manners.”

(Joke’s on them. We’ve moved away, and are financially stable and happy together. Despite their claims, I don’t need them anymore.)

(A customer storms in with a pair of boots and slams them down on the counter.)

Customer #1: “Feet wet, boots Gore-Tex, money back, NOW!”

Me: *looking the boots over* “How long have you had them?”

Customer #1: “A year, but that doesn’t matter… Money back, NOW!”

Me: “Actually, it does.”

(I ask him to follow me to the footwear wall where all our boots are displayed, and I begin explaining to him that Gore-Tex is a one-way valve material in between layers of the footwear. It allows your perspiration to escape in the form of water vapor, but Gore-Tex is not what keeps the outer materials dry. That is a repellent called DWR, and it needs to be renewed at least once a year.)

Customer #1: “You have no idea what you’re talking about, and if you don’t give me my money back right now, I’ll have no choice but to talk with your manager.”

(Just then, another customer looking at footwear chimes in. He is older, with grey hair and glasses.)

Customer #2: “Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt… but he’s absolutely spot on with his simplified definition.”

Customer #1: “This isn’t any of your business!”

Customer #2: “Actually, it is. You see… I am one of the scientists who originally developed Gore-Tex. Perhaps you should listen to this gentleman; you might learn how to take care of your boots properly.”

Customer #1: “When I bought these boots, no one told me I had to maintain them.”

Me: “That may be so, and if it is, you have my apologies. Other than the DWR having worn off the outer of the boots, it looks like they still have plenty of life in them.”

(I hand him a can of water repellent from the shelf.)

Me: “By the way, I am the manager… and this one’s on me.”