I work as a volunteer for a charity shop that helps people in other parts of the world. During lockdown due to the health crisis, we had a new till system put into our building. We’re all still trying to get the hang of the receipt printing options and the new till in general. This morning, I’m working on till for a bit while we wait for another volunteer to be available. A woman approaches with a dress.

Customer: “I’d like to return this, please. I just bought it yesterday and it doesn’t fit.”

Me: “Can I see your receipt?”

Customer: “I wasn’t given one. They said I could return it anyway.”

I internally groan.

Me: “Without a receipt, I can only do an exchange, I’m afraid. Sorry that the till didn’t give you one. We’re still getting used to the till.”

Customer: “Well, that’s not my fault. I won’t be accepting an exchange. I want a refund.”

I repeat what I said again and offer the exchange.

Customer: “You’re breaking your promise. I know my rights. I deserve a refund as it was your fault I didn’t have a receipt!”

She is starting to get angrier. I’m not good with confrontation, so I try again to respond nicely.

Me: “Again, I’m sorry that you weren’t given a receipt, but as I’ve explained, we have a new till and are having a few learning difficulties with the first few runs of a day while we figure the printing out.”

The lady begins to tell me off as she believes I am in the wrong. At the end of her rant…

Customer: “I am the customer and the customer is always right. Give me my refund.”

By this point, there was a small queue forming with the other four customers that had been allowed in and a queue growing longer outside to come in. My boss was at the door that morning, so she suggested that we switch places as she could tell I was starting to get a bit worried with the woman yelling at me.

My boss ended up giving her a refund to get her out of the shop, and as she walked past, she smiled at me and was as sweet as possible, as if nothing had just happened!

After I graduated high school, I decided to go to study in another city, so I had to rent an apartment. My parents — especially my step-mother — refused to pay for my apartment, even though they were wealthy enough to do so. I had no money whatsoever, so my grandparents intervened and decided to pay for the rent each month. The only money I was getting from my parents was my mother’s alimony paid to my dad because I was still a student

I’m a gamer and a nerd, and I played “World of Warcraft,” but I was playing with a crappy laptop that was getting slower and slower. An in-game friend in my guild bought me a computer and surprised me with it when I invited him for a LAN with other friends from the same guild. I was ecstatic and so grateful!

Two years passed, and I graduated with a two-year diploma. I decided to go to engineering school, and the one I got into was in another city so I had to move out. As I had two months before starting school again, I moved all my belonging into my parents’ garage, included said computer. The next day, I went to have some holiday weeks at my grandparents’ holiday house.

While on the train, I received a message from both my dad and my step-mother.

Dad & Step-Mother: “What the h*** is that computer in the garage?”

Me: “It’s my computer?”

Dad & Step-Mother: “How did you get it? With what money?”

Me: “A friend gifted it to me. I already told you about it, Dad.”

Dad & Step-Mother: “That’s a bulls*** story!”

Me: *Frustrated* “You can call me when I get home.”

A few hours after, I’m at my grandparents’ and they call me. The exact same conversation ensues, and they do not believe how I got that computer, so my dad has the bright idea to ask that friend to give me the invoice for the computer — it was a prebuilt tower — so he could trust me.

I contacted my friend to ask if it was possible to have the invoice, and I was so embarrassed to ask him because I told him the exact reason I needed it. He said it was no problem and sent it to me, and I sent it to my dad.

I thought they were convinced, but they still kept scolding me for having that computer.

Fast forward a few weeks. I’m back at my parents’ house because I need to move for engineering school. I try to pack my things, but they refuse to let me have my computer.

Me: “You can’t possibly tell me to leave it here; you didn’t even pay for it.”

Dad & Step-Mother: “We don’t care; you’re not taking your gaming computer for school.”

There was no point in arguing, so I left without it. Unfortunately for them, I try hard to get the things I want. I knew they were going away for vacation in December, so before they left, I ordered a new computer case and asked a friend of mine if she could send me her old spare parts.

While my parents were away, I went to their house, brought the new case and the old parts, installed the old parts in the old case, and transferred my computer parts into the new case. I left the old case in the garage and took my computer back to my place.

It has been a few years now and I have been authorized to have my “computer” back. They still don’t know.

I have a reservation through an online travel agency, under the name [Customer]. An older lady walks in and asks to check in to that reservation.

Me: “Okay, is [Customer] here?”

Lady: “He’s in the car, but we have the same last name so you can just check me in.”

Me: “Hotel policy says that the full name has to match.”

Lady: “You’ll see him when he walks through the lobby. Just check me in.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I need [Customer] to be here to check anyone into the room.”

She gets angry, goes outside, and comes back a minute later with [Customer]’s ID and credit card.

Me: “I need to have [Customer] actually here.”

She leans in to read my nametag.

Lady: “Okay, [My Name], front desk supervisor.”

And she storms off. She comes back in with a gentleman who is obviously [Customer]. I thank him for coming in and apologize, explaining the hotel policy. He is super nice and gracious. His wife, though, pulls out her phone.

Lady: “I’m going to photograph you and—”

I cut her off before she could finish threatening me and made it very clear that she did not have my permission to photograph me. Her husband told her to calm down, and she finally relented.

When I was in high school in the late 1970s, it was relatively common for other students to toss change on the floor and wait to laugh at the person who picked it up. I had no problem with that. I’d make a little over a dollar a day for stopping, bending over, and picking up change around six times a day.

It took maybe a total of one minute per day. Minimum wage was $3.15 an hour. So, in a week, I’d earn about two hours of minimum wage take-home income for five minutes of bending over and picking up the money that morons were willing to throw away.

My fifth-grade teacher gave the whole class a dollar each once, and kids still complained about the amount they received. It was so disgusting to know she took money from her paycheck which isn’t even a lot, and they didn’t appreciate the money. They would have been satisfied with around three to five dollars; it’s messed up to expect that much. Not only that, but she bought happy new year cards for all of us. That is such an expense for children that age and she probably knew we wouldn’t remember.

That’s not even all she did. She made us pies, we had pizza parties, and we had dessert parties. She wasn’t making a lot of money and she would do stuff like this a lot. Just the fact that she went through that financial struggle to make our day is so selfless. She was such an amazing teacher and continued to make special events for us, even when some kids didn’t appreciate it.

We were only in her class for a year, and it was her starting year, but she handled the negativity so well. It’s just such a messed-up situation to give that much and get nothing in return.

She was uncomfortable with her name, and at the end of the year we asked her for her name and she said that she would tell the class, but she asked us not to make fun of it. We agreed and she said her first name was Phone. Then, of course, the class clown and the “popular” girls and boys made fun of it. She kindly asked them not to, but they continued.

She didn’t continue the conversation after that, and she went to another school after a while when she was offered the same job at better pay. I feel so bad for her, knowing what she did for us. It was when we were so young that we didn’t know how to appreciate something verbally.

She was just such an amazing teacher and I plan on visiting her later on to try to help her out.