(I just clocked out for my meal and I’m making my way to the back room when a customer stops me.)

Customer: “Excuse me, I have a question.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m actually on my meal right now. Customer service can help you, though.”

Customer: *scoffs* “Well, then!”

(I quickly walk to the back and eat in peace. After my thirty-minute meal is up, I clock back in and get back to work. An hour later, the same customer comes back up to me.)

Customer: *rudely* “Are you still on your meal?”

(After I finish checking out a customer, I realize that she’s forgotten to take her credit card with her. She’s already walked out the door and it’s been a couple of minutes. I tell my manager, “BE RIGHT BACK!” and dash out of the store. Luckily, she is not a far jog away. I catch up with her easily, but I’m out of breath.)

Me: “Ma’am! You forgot this!”

Customer: “Oh, my God, thank you! I need this!”

Me: “No problem! Have a nice day!”

(I jog back to the store. The whole process takes less than a minute. My manager has been standing at the counter behind mine, doing absolutely nothing.)

Manager: “Next time you run out like that, you need to tell me exactly why!”

(That’s right, no thank-you for the person who just saved a paying customer a lot of stress.)

(For my grandma’s 80th birthday, her kids all host a big party for her. My youngest uncle has just had a new house built, so that’s where it’s hosted. I’m the oldest grandkid; I am 17, while my uncle’s son is two years old. After spending the morning running around preparing and cleaning up the house, my two-year-old cousin — now very bored — begs me to play trains with him. It will keep him quiet and occupied in the back room until the party begins, so I agree. The next thing I know, I’m suddenly aware that there are four other kids in the back room with us, and there’s music and talking in the rest of the house. I’m about to go join the party when two little girls take over my cousin’s train set.)

Cousin: “No! No, no, no, no, no!” *begins to cry*

Me: “Hey, buddy, it’s all right. Look; they’ve got the red train and the blue train, and you can have the green train! That’s your favourite one!”

Cousin: “No!”

Me: “Okay, which train did you want?”

Cousin: “My trains.”

Me: “Yes, they’re your trains. The girls are just borrowing them for a little while. It’s important to share so that you can all play together.”

Cousin: “NOOO!” *throws himself on the ground, about to go full meltdown*

Me: “Right. I’m going to pick you up, and we’ll go find Mummy, okay?”

Cousin: “Nooo… ‘kay.”

(I wander out into the party, my cousin goes to cuddle with his mum until he feels better, and I go on my way to eat cake and talk to people I know.)

Lady: *grabbing my shoulder* “YOU!”

Me: “Uh, hello? I’m sorry, I don’t think I recognise you–”

Lady: “What are you doing outside the playroom?”

Me: “Sorry?”

Lady: “You’re going to be sorry. I went to check on my dears and found you missing.” 

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Lady: “How dare you?! You’re getting paid good money to watch those kids, and you fob it off to steal party food?”

Me: “Paid?”

Lady: “When I checked, there was no one watching the kids. My girls were even about to get into a fight with each other. You’re going to get back there and do your job, and when I find [Aunt], I’ll see that she never hires you again.”

Me: “Can you let go of me now?”

Lady: “You need to learn some responsibility and–”

Dad: “[My Name], there you are. Come here; it’s time for the speeches. Oh, hello, Mrs. [Lady].”

Lady: *suddenly sickeningly pleasant* “Oh, hello, [Dad]. I haven’t seen you in years! How have you been? How’s [Mum] doing?”

Dad: “She’s fine. [My Name], this is [Lady]. She’s a part of Grandma’s congregation. I used to babysit her when I was your age.”

Lady: “You should have said you were related to [Grandma]. I thought you were the hired help.”

(I turn to look at the projector, showing photographs of Grandma through her life, right next to us. The current image is one of Grandma in her wedding dress; I have listened to twelve people today already marvel over how it looks just like me, before I’ve even introduced myself)

Me: “Sure. If you say so.”

(I am a manager for a large, well-known Canadian furniture and appliance retailer that stocks many items in-store. Like any modern business, we have terminals to take debit and credit cards. The financial institution that provides these terminals and services to us is based out of the province of Quebec, as many financial institutions in Canada are, especially ones involved with the furniture, appliance, and electronic retail industry. I am at the front desk when one of our sales associates comes up with a customer to put through a sale for a freezer. The customer has several pounds of meat arriving to him tomorrow and needs a freezer in-stock to preserve it. Everything goes normally up until right after the sale is paid for and completed, and then this happens:)

Customer: “I need to cancel this order.”

Associate: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “I’M CANCELLING THIS AND GETTING MY F****** MONEY BACK!!”

Associate: “Whoa, we can do that, but what’s the problem?”

Customer: “I see on your terminal that [Our Company] banks with [Quebec Financial Institution]!”

Me: “Well, yes, they provide us with terminals and things like our financing plans…”

Customer: “That’s bulls***! We don’t want [Our Company] here in the west if you do business with Quebec!”

Me: “Sir, I’m not sure I understand the issue here. You don’t want to do business with us because we have terminals from [Quebec Financial Institution]?”

Customer: “Obviously! Quebec doesn’t want a pipeline for our oil but has no problem leeching off our economy to fund their government!”

(The customer proceeds to rant about the oil, the Quebec government, and French people for a minute. To clarify, in recent news, Quebec shot down a plan to have a pipeline built across Canada between our provinces for Alberta’s oil industry. Pipelines can be a controversial topic to some, but apparently, some more than others.)

Me: “Sir, you do understand that [Quebec Financial Institution] is a private business and has nothing to do with the Quebec Government?

Customer: “I don’t care! Quebec and the French won’t be getting any of my money! Now hurry up with my refund so I can take my business elsewhere!”

Me: “All right, but there’s no need for that kind of talk.”

(At this point, my general manager, who is partially French himself, must have overheard part of the conversation, and walks over to the till.)

General Manager: *slightly annoyed* “What’s this about the French? I’m French.”

Customer: *sarcastically* “Good for you.”

(My associate and I get nervous and urge our GM to step away, assuring him we’ll handle this so nothing escalates, which thankfully it doesn’t, even though I’m getting fed up with this customer at this point. I finish up the paperwork and refund the customer.)

Customer: “Make sure you write down the real reason I’m cancelling this, not something made-up!”

Me: “Oh, yes, it’s already written here; no one would believe me if it wasn’t.”

Customer: “I’ll be getting a hold of your home office, telling them we don’t want your company here if this is who you do business with!”

Me: “Yeah, good luck with that.”

(The customer finishes up with our associate, and then proceeds to storm towards the doors.)

Associate: “There you go, sir. Good luck finding a freezer!”

Customer: “Oh, I will! There are better companies here that don’t deal with the French! I’ll be going to [Competitor]!”

Me: *yelling over to ensure he can hear* “We own them!”

Customer: *yelling back* “Then I won’t be going there! I’ll just go to [Different Competitor]!”

Me: “They deal with [Quebec Financial Institution], as well, and they don’t stock appliances!”

Customer: “F*** YOU!”

(I work for a place that serves coffee. I just clocked into my shift and am feeling pretty good, just in a go-with-the-flow, peppy mood. I’ve got my smile on and I’m just gonna do my best. A customer comes in and asks for a medium coffee and a cup of water. The following goes down after he asks for water.)

Me: “Sure thing! Would you like ice in that?”

Customer: “No ice, please.”

Me: “All righty. Just to let you know, the water will be room temperature, then. Is that okay?”

(We just say that because it’s true and some people usually expect the water to just immediately be cold.)

Customer: “What? Is the water going to be boiling?”

Me: “No. Just room temperature.”

Customer: “A little bit of ice, then.”

(I charge him for his coffee and tell him the price.)

Customer: “WHAT?! ARE YOU CHARGING ME FOR WATER?!”

Me: “Oh, no. We don’t charge for water here. That’s just the price of coffee.”

(He tells me how he went to buy coffee last month and that he paid a cheaper price. I listen and I know the whole pricing thing. Unfortunately, I know that I can’t control the price. I do inquire if it was from this location. He tells me that it was from another location. I apologize and say that prices do change from place to place. I ring him up and he remarks how he could have gone to the convenience store to get a cheaper coffee.)

Me: “You could have!”

(I’m just trying to agree with him because what else was I supposed to say? I think at this point he is fed up with my so-said “attitude” because the next ensues:)

Customer: “I think I will. Give me my return.”

Me: “Sure thing!”

(I start the return process.)

Customer: “What’s your name?”

Me: “[My Name]. Let me see if I can do your refund via card, seeing that you paid with a card.” *still keeping a happy attitude even though I’m dying inside a little*

Customer: “[My Name Pronounced Incorrectly]. Can. I. Swipe. Now?”

Me: *corrects him with the right pronunciation* “Go ahead, sir.”

(It doesn’t work, so I will have to refund him via cash.)

Customer: “[My Name Pronounced Incorrectly]. Can. I. Swipe. Now?”

(He had already swiped so I’m not sure why he is asking again.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll have to refund you with cash.”

(He agrees with it and as I’m giving him the money…)

Customer: “I don’t come to places like this often because of your attitude.”

Me: “Oh, okay. I’m sorry about that.” *gives him his money back* “Have a good one!” *still a smile and just allowing that to come at me*

(We still served him water. I ended up crying not because I felt as though I’d done something wrong, but because I was confused by it all. My coworker told me to go take a break. However, I didn’t want to because I felt like some weird sense of pride. If I left, I felt like it was allowing this guy to win. But I guess me tearing up a bit was me losing, huh? Funny thing: we saw him sitting at one of the tables with who I assumed to be his son. Said son wasn’t at the cash register so probably was wandering around. When the man left, he felt some need to point at me to his son. Was he trying to be the evil monkey from “Family Guy”? Maybe?)