Our espresso machine requires maintenance and we have done everything in our power to alert customers to our inability to provide hot coffee drinks; we’ve posted several brightly-colored signs on the one and only entrance to the shop.

A man holds the door open for a loud female customer, complete with attached cell phone accessory. Her call must be very important as she is talking so loudly we all know the results of her last lady doctor appointment.

As she approaches the counter I attempt to deliver the bad news in as polite a fashion as I am able.

Me: “Welcome to [Coffee Shop]! I just wanted to make you aware that our espresso machine is undergoing maintenance and—”

She shoves her finger in my face, index finger up in a classic “Shut Up!” gesture. I swallow my anger and continue to wait for her to fish her credit card out of her purse while still yakking away on the phone.

Once she locates it, she pulls the phone far enough away from her face to bark two words before going back to her call.

Customer: “Non-fat latte.”

She throws the credit card on the counter.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but as I was saying, our espresso machine is down and I cannot make any hot drinks or any espresso drinks.”

She ignores me completely and continues her conversation until long enough has passed that she believes her drink should be done, at which point she storms up to the counter.

Customer: “Where’s my drink? You’ve had more than long enough to finish a simple latte. What are you, stupid?”

Me: “I tried to explain to you that our espresso machine was down when you entered the store, but you were so engrossed in your conversation that you must not have heard me.”

Customer: “Well, most competent employees would put a sign up so people don’t waste half their lunch break waiting for a drink that you weren’t even making.”

Me: “Actually, if you’ll direct your attention to the door, you’ll notice that there was not only one sign, but several, explaining the situation.”

I’ve had many unpleasant encounters with customers over the years, but I think this response takes the prize for the most entitled comment I’ve ever heard because, rather than apologize for being on her phone or even acknowledging her part in the kerfuffle, she doubles down.

Customer: “Well, if that man hadn’t opened a door I was clearly capable of opening myself, maybe I would have seen the sign.”

Me: “So, let me see if I understand you correctly. You’re upset that someone opened a door for you because they were trying to be polite?”

Customer: “Exactly! I certainly hope you’ll do something about it the next time he comes in here; that kind of thing is not acceptable!”

Me: “Oh, you can rest assured that I will make sure that man gets what’s coming to him.”

The next time he came in, I paid for his drink; I think he got what he deserved.

Related:
My, Aren’t We Feeling Entitled Today?, Part 2
My, Aren’t We Feeling Entitled Today?

When I am first figuring out how to do nice makeup — more than slapping on some concealer and mascara every morning like I did in high school — I go to a popular, fairly high-end makeup store. I have watched many tutorials on YouTube before even setting foot in a store, but the sheer variety of products and tools is overwhelming so I want someone to give me a hand picking out the right items. I’m greeted by an employee when I walk in, so I decide to ask her for help.

Me: “Could you help me pick out a foundation and a couple other things, please? I’ve never worn liquid foundation before, so I’m not sure what will suit me.”

Employee: “Sure thing. Well, first of all, you’re really pale, so there’s probably only a couple of brands that make a shade light enough for you in the right undertones.”

I brush off the pale comment, which is true but doesn’t need pointing out.

Me: “Right, that makes sense. Could you show me which brands you think would work?”

We do manage to find a shade match, though I note that it doesn’t seem like I’m a particularly rare shade, though I defer to her and her greater knowledge of skin undertones. I need something to apply the foundation, and I know that brushes and sponges are the two most popular products for that at the moment, so I decide to ask for help with that, too.

Me: “This looks great. So, what would you recommend to apply it with?”

The employee looks at me like I have three heads.

Employee: “Um… a brush.”

I’m concerned now because she seems confused now by what I thought was a simple question.

Me: “Right, so a brush rather than a sponge? Can you show me the foundation brushes, then?”

She walked me over to the brush section and handed me the store’s own brand foundation brush without even talking about why it was the better choice or how it would compare to a sponge, which she never acknowledged as an option. In the end, I bought the foundation and the brush, anyway, because I figured I have to start somewhere. Within a week, I realized I hated the brush and ended up going to a big box retail store to buy a blending sponge, instead, making a note not to shop at that particular location of the makeup store again.

I work in a small shop. The owner is pretty casual about the dress code for employees and lets us wear whatever we want to. I don’t take my piercings out for work and in the year I’ve worked here, no customer has ever said anything about it. Until now.

Customer: “You know that those piercings you have in your lips make you very unattractive, do you?”

Me: “Um, what?”

Customer: “Yes, they draw the attention to your mouth and not to your beautiful eyes.”

I assume he’s joking, so I take my glasses off.

Me: “That’s why I have another one in my eyebrow to remedy that problem.”

Customer: *Horrified* “And you have another one in your nose!”

I finish ringing him up. He puts his books in a bag with a date written on the inside.

Customer: “You see that? I write the date of purchase on everything I buy, so I always know how long the item lasts. I’ve done it since I was a boy.”

He’s over seventy years old.

Customer: “I write it on my furniture, on bags, on my clothes…”

He pulls up his shirt to show me the date written on the inside.

Customer: “…even on my underwear!”

He reaches for his trousers.

Me: “Sir! I believe you even without seeing the proof!”

Two months later, the same customer comes back.

Customer: “Hey, you still have those piercings in your face!”

Me: *Thinking* “Great, here we go again!”

Customer: “Would it be indecent for me to ask you if you have piercings in more intimate places?”

Me: “Yes, that would be very indecent.”

Customer: “Well, you could always refuse to answer.”

Me: “Well, you could just not ask that question!”

Seriously, some people!

Related: 
Piercing Observation, Part 7
Piercing Observation, Part 6
Piercing Observation, Part 5
Piercing Observation, Part 4
Piercing Observation, Part 3

My town goes into curfew at 6:00 pm because of the health crisis, and our station decides that this is a good time to cut back on trains. In my job, only [Coworker #1] lives far enough away to have to take the train every night, and when he gets out at 5:00 pm, there is no train for him.

I can hear his supervisor talking to the boss.

Supervisor: “But he leaves at 4:30?”

Boss: “Yes! Temporarily; we are trying to find solutions.”

Supervisor: “Everyone is grumbling because he’s leaving early!”

Boss: “It’s taken off of his days off.”

Supervisor: “But even so, it’s not normal for someone to leave early.”

Boss: “If he goes out on time, he doesn’t have any more trains, and I wouldn’t make him sleep outside, and if we leave him in the offices, we have to have someone to watch over him. Do you agree to stay here tonight?”

The supervisor left and agreed to let him go at 4:30 pm.

Our grocery store has its own brand line of bulk goods, and I manage that department. We get a notice that the coconut flakes have been held and placed on recall due to salmonella contamination, so we have to pull all our stock on hand, and we have no estimation of when we can reorder.

We put up a health advisory notice on the shelf to notify customers that they shouldn’t consume any they’ve purchased and that they should bring it back for a refund.

One of the cashiers calls for the bulk manager on the overhead, and I go up to find a very huffy customer waiting.

Customer: “Are you the bulk manager?”

Me: “How can I help you?”

Customer: “No, I want to speak to the manager. I expected a man.”

Me: “Well, you’re speaking to me.”

Customer: *Speaking slowly in a condescending tone* “Are you. Or are you not. The. Bulk. Man-a-ger?”

Me: “I am… the specific person you asked for, yes. And here I am. Now that we’ve established that, how can I help you?”

Customer: “You need to do your job better because you’re out of my coconut flakes.”

Me: “They were recalled due to salmonella. There’s a sign. We have other coconut flakes in another brand that is unaffected by the recall.”

Customer: “I don’t want those flakes; I want the bulk ones.”

Me: “Well, they’re not available.”

Customer: “So, when are you going to reorder?”

Me: “When they have been cleared as safe for consumption, they will be available again. But the recall was just announced, so we have no estimation yet of when that will be.”

Customer: “Have you ever even tried these coconut flakes? Do you even know what they taste like?” 

Me: “I know what coconut tastes like.”

Customer: “But do you know what this coconut tastes like? Because if you ever tried it, you would understand why I’m so upset, and why you shouldn’t try to pawn off that inferior crap on me.”

My soul leaves my body and goes to lie on a beach somewhere.

Me: “Okay.”

Customer: “Well, if they paid you enough to try your own product, you might be knowledgeable enough about them to do your job.”

I’ve already decided that trying to reason with this person is going nowhere, so I’m just focused on cutting the conversation off so I can get back to my tasks.

Me: “Well, unfortunately, doing this right now is my job. So, if there isn’t anything else I can do—”

Customer: “I don’t know, is there?! What am I supposed to do?”

Me: “I can only offer you the other coconut flakes we carry.”

Customer: “But I don’t want those. You don’t have the ones I want.”

Me: “No, we don’t. All right, then, have a good evening.”

Customer: “You don’t have what I want! What are you going to do about it?”

Me: “I’m afraid there’s nothing else I can do.”

Customer: “Nothing?! You’re not going to help me?”

Me: “The CDC issued a recall. We pulled all of our product from the shelves and are prohibited from selling it. Let me be clear. No one has the power to help you.”

Customer: “Well, if you still have some in the back and you can’t sell it, why can’t you just give it to me?”

Me: “Absolutely not. It’s going to be destroyed for safety reasons.”

Customer: “What do you mean, no?!“

Me: “It means request denied. We’re done here. Goodbye!”

The customer gasps, obviously shocked that some of his sass got thrown back at him, and storms out tearfully.

Customer: “This is the worst service ever!“

Cashier: *Rolling her eyes* “It could have been worse. You could have been hospitalized with salmonella.”

Me: “That could have easily been arranged out the back door. Lord knows I was tempted.”