(My husband and I have just come from a local pet store which asks you at the checkout to donate to an animal rescue charity, and I gave a small amount of cash. I give to the pet charity because I know exactly where the money goes, but in general, I’m hesitant to donate at checkouts otherwise, as they generally provide little to no information about the charity or where the money goes. After the pet store, we go to a well-known chain grocery store.)

Grocery Cashier: “Your total comes to [total]. Would you like to donate to prostate cancer today?”

Me: “No, thank you.”

Husband: “Wait, you’ll donate to a pet charity but you won’t donate to cancer research? You care more about cute animals than my balls!”

Me: *death stare*

Bagger: “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight, buddy…”

(And, for the record, he did sleep on the couch that night!)

(I’m playing an online pirate game with three friends; only four people can fit in a crew. One of my friends finds a girl on an empty ship and is about to leave the game for the night. This is good news. Room for all of us and a fully-stocked ship? H*** yeah! She invites three of my crew to her ship but refuses to invite the fourth, me. I am also a girl.)

Me: “Send me an invite? I can’t join until you invite me.”

Girl: “My friend is actually going to play.”

Me: “Uh…”

Crewmate: “She’s part of our crew. Can’t your friend play with someone else?”

Girl: “No, I want my friend to play on this ship.”

Crewmate: “Why does it matter? We’ll be strangers to her anyway. It would be no different than any other crew she will join. Let our crewmate join, please.”

Girl: “No. I’m the captain and what I say goes.”

(While the game has natural leaders that shine through during the game, nobody has more authority than another. Everyone is on an equal level.) 

Crewmate: “Wow. That’s pretty rude.”

Girl: “I don’t care. This is my ship and I get to decide who plays.”

(At this point, we all could leave and find our own ship, but we don’t feel like being friendly anymore.)

Crewmates: “MUTINY! B****! LOCK HER IN THE BRIG!”

Girl: “Don’t you dare! I invited you to this ship. It’s mine!”

Crewmate: “It’s three against one; this is our ship now.”

(They lock her in the brig.)

Girl: “You motherf*****s! I’m going to make sure I’m on as long as possible so your fourth can’t get on!”

(She presumably put a rubber band on her controller as her character spun in circles for ten minutes and then got kicked from the game for inactivity. Never saw her again.)

(My workplace is one of those businesses that allows Canadians to order stuff, have it shipped to us, and then come pick it up. We deal with a lot of packages every day, but this Black Friday/Cyber Monday broke our systems; the office is a sea of packages and everyone is working nonstop to handle the load. A man comes in to pick up, so I put my other tasks on hold to wait on him. I look in his file and see that he has fifteen packages currently processed and stored. Normally, we’d ask our customers — especially anyone expecting a lot of things — to notify us when they’re coming so we can be ready, but okay: all stations are behind, so maybe he did notify and we just couldn’t get to his stuff in time. I slog through the piles of boxes to find his items, some of which are tiny and hard to find, but I manage. When I count his items out to him, he tells me he’s expecting one more thing.)

Me: “Was it something coming in today? Because, for the rest of the season, we won’t be able to do same-day pickups; if it comes in today, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Customer: “No, no, it was from last week.”

(His records show fifteen, and he has fifteen parcels on the counter.)

Me: “Do you have a tracking number?”

(We sort all parcels by the name of the addressee, but since shippers sometimes botch the task of writing someone’s name, we sometimes have to look up the tracking number and follow the paper trail.)

Customer: “No, no tracking number! Just go find it!”

Me: “Sir, if it had your name on it, it would be in this stack–” *waves files* “–and if it was in this stack, it would be in this pile.” *points at packages on counter* “If it does not have your name on it, then the only way I can find it is with the tracking number!”

Customer: “No tracking number! Just go find it!”

Me: *considers the giant sea of packages behind me for precisely 0.5 seconds* “I can’t.”

Customer: “No? Should I call [Boss]?”

Me: “If you think she can help you better than I can, then sure. But I can’t do anything without a tracking number.”

Customer: “Fine! Also, one more package; today’s FedEx.”

(FedEx only dropped off their load a few minutes ago. Under normal circumstances, we would need about an hour or so to make sure everything was counted and entered into the system, but today: no. It isn’t going to happen, and there is nothing I can do to make it happen, and I explain as much. He finally leaves, and I spend the rest of the day thinking that if he were any more of a butt, he could crap through both ears. But then later, he comes back, and lo, the crap: the records note that he shipped something out through us. I mentioned this offhand while sorting through his list of items to be picked up. Now:)

Customer: “I want my outgoing!”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “My outgoing! I will take it to UPS!”

(I figured he was being petty because of the earlier snafu, but whatever. He keeps money on account with us, meaning he had technically already paid his shipping costs, so my boss would have to go in and adjust his balance after this. In the meantime, I went to where our outgoing packages were stored and was confronted with another massive stack of boxes in various shapes and sizes. My work was falling further and further behind with every moment spent sifting through them, but sift I did, and consoled myself by taking this opportunity to at least sort the out-bound FedEx onto a cart for that night’s pickup. Finally, a coworker came up and asked what I was doing, so I explained and showed him the invoice. When I did, it came up that the date on the invoice was from a few days ago, meaning that the package was already long gone. I explained this to the customer, who finally left. But at least that fellow can hold his head high, knowing that he personally disproves every last stereotype about Canadians. “Always polite,” my foot!)

Customer: “I want to return this item. The guy who sold it to me said I could return it if I didn’t end up needing it.”

Me: “Okay, do you have your receipt?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Unfortunately, without a receipt, I can only give you store credit for the lowest price it’s ever been sold at.”

Customer: “No, that’s ridiculous. The guy said I could return it!”

Me: “Did we email you the receipt, maybe?”

Customer: “NO! You have to return this; you can look it up with my debit card!”

(In the past, we could look up all debit and credit transactions with the number from a card, going back one year. Since getting new debit/credit machines, we can no longer do that. I can, however, look up receipt information in our inventory system, so I try to do that. I ask him what date he purchased it, and I find two transactions from that date: one paid with cash and one paid on debit. However, it does not show me the last four digits of the card, so I can’t be sure it’s his card.)

Me: “Did you purchase anything else with it?”

Customer: “Yes, I purchased [item] with it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, the only receipt I can find on a debit card doesn’t have anything else purchased with it.”

Customer: “But it says it was on my debit card so it’s proof that I bought it!”

Me: “No, it’s proof that someone bought it, not you.”

Customer: “But it says it’s my debit card!”

Me: “No, it says it was bought on a debit card. I can give you the full amount back if you like, but I have to put it on store credit.”

Customer: “No way. I can’t believe you’re not returning it!”

Me: “I just said I would, for the full amount, even though we don’t know if this is your receipt. But I can’t put it back on your card because I don’t even know what card was used, or if this was yours.”

Customer: “The guys said I could return it!”

Me: “You can, but if you want to return it to your card, you need a receipt.”

Customer: “He never said anything about my receipt!”

Me: “Well, everyone generally needs a receipt to return something. But I can return it for you, just not to your debit card.”

Customer: “No, that guy will remember me; he said I could return it!”

Me: “You certainly can return it. But without a proper receipt, I can only give you store credit.”

Customer: “Fine, I’ll just come back another day when someone else is working!”

(He then went and yelled at my manager about me, who ended up returning it to his card. BUT he did tell the customer that this was a one-time thing and that I was correct in saying we had to give him store credit. I like that he at least told the customer I wasn’t wrong, so I didn’t look or feel like an idiot.)

(I work the night shift alone at the hotel. Shortly after my shift starts, a guest comes up and asks about breakfast the next day. Checking his reservation, I see it’s Room Only, meaning he’s only paying to stay in the hotel and breakfast is not included. I even show him the Room Only rate he reserved through a third-party company.)

Guest: “Why would I have to pay extra for breakfast? My friend, [Friend], is staying here and says he’s getting breakfast for free.”

Me: *checking his friend’s reservation* “Well, your friend has the same rate as you, Room Only, so breakfast isn’t included for him, either.”

Guest: “So he’s just not being charged for it?”

Me: “I don’t know. I only work the night shift; breakfast is not part of my duties.”

Guest: “Well, I am staying in [City] for several months and chose your hotel, and if you won’t accommodate me on this matter, I can just go to a different hotel. There are dozens of them around here.”

(At this point, I give him a look that I hope conveys my thoughts of, “Your little ‘threat’ is not going to make me bend over backward.” The hotel is located in an area that is filled with other hotels, so it really would be simple for him to go to a different hotel. I wouldn’t care.)

Me: “As I said, your rate pays only for the room, and eating breakfast would require the charge to be added to your invoice.”

Guest: “Look, I know you are just doing your job, but…” *repeats his spiel of staying here for months and potential to leave for another hotel*

(I got him to agree to come down in the morning and talk it over with the early shift employees. Had he “threatened” to go to a different hotel one more time, I would’ve told him to please pack his luggage, then, as I would be preparing the invoice for check-out. Would have been in my power, and not have any consequences for me. We were fully-booked that night, after all.)