Me: “I hope you’ve found everything to your liking!”

Customer: “Oh, thank you, I have! It’s so nice to meet a polite Christian girl nowadays! You know, it’s always best to love thy neighbor.”

Me: “Oh, actually, I’m not Christian. But yes, I agree.”

Customer: “Oh. Well, as long as you love Jesus, our savior!”

Me: “Actually, I’m Muslim and Jewish.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “Well, my mother is Jewish and my father is Muslim.”

Customer: “Oh. When I said ‘love thy neighbor,’ I didn’t mean you!”

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(My husband and I inherited a dance studio from his mother and we’re both full-time teachers there. Naturally, our five-year-old spends a lot of time with us at the studio. Her father and I were playing “Swan Lake” with her one day in one of the dance studios after all the classes were over when a mother and her daughter came in.)

Customer: “Excuse me!”

Me: “Can I help you? Classes are over for the day.”

Customer: “I would like to organize one-on-one private lessons with you for my daughter.”

Me: “I’m sorry, we don’t do private lessons.”

Customer: “So why is he teaching that little girl how to do a lift?”

Me: “That’s our daughter. He’s not teaching her anything; he’s just picking her up. We were playing a game.”

Customer: “I demand you give my child private lessons!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve just told you, we don’t do that here.”

Customer: “She’s been in your class for two years!”

Me: “Yes, I know.”

Customer: “That little girl isn’t even old enough to be in your class.”

Me: “No, she’s not, but she’s my daughter. She’s been exposed to ballet since she was a baby.”

Customer: “So has my child! She knows culture!”

Me: “I understand, ma’am, but I just can’t give her private lessons.”

Customer: “Why are you letting her do it, then?”

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve told you already, she’s my daughter. She gets private lessons with me whether she likes it or not. We live together.”

Customer: “So, if I send my daughter to live with you, will you teach her?”

Me: “Ma’am, you can’t send your daughter to live with us.”

My Daughter: “Mommy! Look at me!”

Customer: “Oh, she really is your daughter? I thought you were lying. See you tomorrow for class!”

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(I am shopping at a retail store where employees don’t wear uniforms, but encourage their sales associates to wear clothes purchased from their store. I’ve picked up a shirt from a stack of folded clothes, looked at it, and folded it again. A woman comes up to me holding a scarf.)

Customer: “Do you have this in blue? I saw it in blue last week but now I can’t find it.”

Me: “Oh, I don’t work here. But I think I just saw a salesperson over there.”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me! I know you work here. I just saw you fold that shirt! If you can’t be bothered to help me, call someone else on your little radio or something. But don’t lie to me; I’m not stupid! Use your radio and find me a blue scarf!”

Me: “Listen, I don’t know what else I can tell you. I don’t have a radio to call someone as I do not work here.”

Customer: “Just stop it already! Someone needs to teach you how to treat customers with respect. Of course you work here; you are wearing clothes from the d*** store! I’m not stupid! Where is your manager?”

(I decide to ignore her and continue about my business. A couple of minutes later I hear a now familiar voice.)

Customer: “That girl right there. She didn’t want to help me, so she just pretended she didn’t work here.”

(I turn around and see the woman standing behind me with the store manager.)

Manager: “Ma’am, this lady doesn’t work here. She is just a shopper like you.”

Customer: “But… she is wearing clothes from this store!”

Manager: *looking at me apologetically as I’m trying hard not to laugh* “A lot of people wear clothes from this store, ma’am. That’s the whole point of buying them. Our employees all wear a name tag; that’s how you can tell them apart from customers.”

Customer: “I think you are just covering for your employee because you know she messed up. This is unbelievable! I just wanted this scarf in blue! I am never shopping here again!”

(She turns around to leave. As she storms out, she spots another customer and yells at her.)

Customer: “I suppose you don’t work here either, huh?!”

Other Customer: *without batting an eye* “Nope. But I have that scarf in blue, and let me tell you; it’s gorgeous!”

Customer: “Hi, can I check your lost and found? I think I left my phone here the other night.”

Me: “Sure.” *gets out box* “Here you go.”

Customer: *rummages through the box* “Whoa!”

(She finds a very expensive MP3 player and begins to pocket it.)

Me: “Ma’am, you said you left your phone here.”

Customer: “Yeah, so? I still want this.”

Me: “But it’s not yours. Someone else lost it and will probably be looking for it.”

Customer: “Well, if they were stupid enough to lose something so expensive they don’t deserve to have it! Oh, here’s my phone!”

(She walks away with her brand new iPhone.)

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(I don’t work in tourism though I must seem like a friendly person since I do get a lot of people stopping me to ask questions of where things are.)

Tourist: “Are you familiar with the area? Do you live around here?”

Me: “Yes, I do. What can I help you with?”

Tourist: “I’m looking for a cathedral in this area somewhere.”

Me: “Okay, which one in particular? There’s about four around here.”

Tourist: “I’m looking for a Catholic cathedral.”

Me: “Okay, let me think… The Anglican church is that way; there’s one near but I don’t know what it is, one over up the street a ways–”

Tourist: “I don’t want no Anglican church! Bloody Anglican wh*res! I want Catholic!”

Me: “I think it’s that one right over there.” *I point at the church*

Tourist: “Yes, that’s a cathedral. It had better not be Anglican or I’ll hunt you down!”