I recently read this story, and I’ve had this exact thing happen to me.

I went to the airport to pick someone up, and I pulled up to the designated pickup spot. I saw the person I was picking up walking toward me, and I got out to help them load their luggage.

Someone the airport had hired — not even an actual officer — came up to berate me.

Employee: “You cannot park here! This area is only for loading and unloading!”

Me: “I’m trying to load — if you would just get out of the way.”

She continued to stand blocking the passenger door so the person I was picking up couldn’t get in as I was loading her luggage in the trunk. Finally:

Me: “Ma’am, I would’ve already been gone if you just hadn’t said anything at all.”

I stepped up to order her away from my car, and she backed up a few paces. My passenger was able to get in as the parking jerk went to go find an actual officer, and we drove away.

Related:
Glad He’s Doing This And Not Flying A Plane

I work in a large pet store, and naturally, pets are welcome. While we do expect that some pets will make a mess, most owners are responsible enough to be sorry and try to clean it up themselves.

A woman and her dog approach me at the checkout counter.

Customer: “You really should clean up that mess. It’s very unhygienic.”

Me: “You mean the mess that your own dog made?”

Customer: “And? It saves me having to pick it up in the park if I know you’re all paid to do it for me.”

She just struts out with her little dog, leaving me shocked at her brazenness. My manager comes over.

Manager: “Something tells me she’s the type of pet owner who doesn’t pick up after her dog no matter where she is.”

Me: “I agree.”

Manager: “Still, what she said amounts to a confession, so she’s earned herself a ban.”

Me: “Really?”

Manager: “She thinks she can just use our store as her dog’s personal restroom? F*** that! She’s banned.”

Sadly, I was not there when she came back and was told the news, but I did hear that she did not take it well. My manager gave her a roll of poop bags on the house as a “goodbye gift”.

One time, my cousin was quietly reading the rules for some game he had bought.

Cousin: *Suddenly* “[My Name] goes first!”

Me: “What? Why?”

Cousin: “The rules say the player most likely to commit murder goes first!”

I was lowkey offended by him not hesitating for a second before declaring me that person, but I was more offended by the fact that everyone else at the table readily agreed to it.

I’m a soft, anxiety-riddled potato of a human! I’m very likely to cry if you raise your voice at me. How am I supposed to commit murder?

One morning, I decided that I really should go to the urgent care centre. It was a Thursday, I’d been feeling rough since Tuesday, and over the course of Wednesday, I’d almost completely lost my ability to swallow or speak due to pain. As I knew I couldn’t speak, I pre-typed a note on my phone with pertinent details: my name, my date of birth, the first line of address, information about my doctor’s surgery, a request for a vomit bowl (I was getting steadily more drooly), and a summary of my symptoms.

Silly me, I thought the receptionist would appreciate not having to interpret one or two words squeaks to get my information.

She did not. She huffed and puffed when she realised I wasn’t going to even try to speak in an understandable manner. Slowly, like she was speaking to a child, she informed me that a “sore throat” wasn’t a priority. And she tried to ignore me pointing to the stack of vomit bowls kept annoyingly out of reach of patients.

I was vindicated when I was seen by a nurse practitioner within five minutes of being triaged, and again when the receptionist had to pay for my taxi to Accident & Emergency out of petty cash because my “sore throat” needed treatment — and medications — that urgent care couldn’t offer.

Related:
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 20
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 19
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 18
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 17
A Most Unreceptive Receptionist, Part 16

A customer has ordered a typical burger-and-fries meal at our fast food place. She’s talking down to the staff, and she has a general air of contempt about the whole place like she’s degrading herself by actually being here.

I hand over the food, and the customer actually snaps her fingers at me.

Customer: “What about the ketchup?”

Me: “The ketchup is in the sachets in the pile next to you.” 

Customer: “You mean you expect me to pick them up myself?”

Me: “Well, they’re self-serve, ma’am.”

Customer: “And you think that’s acceptable, do you?”

Me: “More acceptable than snapping fingers in someone’s face, yes, ma’am.”

Customer: “You don’t get to speak to me that way!”

Me: “And you no longer get to speak to me at all. Bye!”

And off I went! I’m too busy to deal with that level of snobbery, and while I hear she complained to my manager, he also laughed her out of the store.