(I work in the service department of a car dealership. Despite the fact that I’m a girl and in my mid-20s, I know a lot about cars. A grumpy old guy in his 70s comes in.)

Me: “Hi! How can I help you?”

Customer: “The car told me to get my brakes fixed.” *refers to automated message in the car*

Me: “Sure. Let’s make an appointment, then.”

Customer: “No. You have to do it now!”

Me: “Sorry, sir, but that’s not possible. We are fully booked for the next couple of days. However, if you could leave the car here, I could get someone to drive you home, and we could possibly manage to get it done by tomorrow evening.”

Customer: “No! I’m going on holiday tomorrow morning, with the car! Can I drive to [Place about 600 miles away] with the brakes being in this condition?”

Me: “No, sir, I don’t think you will make it there. When did the car start to show you this warning?”

Customer: “Two weeks ago.”

Me: “…”

Customer: “Can you tell me what the new brakes are going to cost?”

Me: “Sure. It will take just a few minutes.”

(One of our mechanics takes a look at the brakes, and then prints the offer for the customer. We have hardly any influence on the prices, as they are given by the brand. I hand the offer to the customer, and he tells me he will be driving home to think about it. I then give him some information on how to make the brakes last a little longer, like avoid using the speed limiter.)

Customer: “No! You are wrong! That’s not true! You don’t know anything about cars! Why do you say something like that when you don’t even know how brakes work!?”

(I try to keep calm but tell him I know what I’m saying, as I was trained to know things like that. He insists I don’t know anything and leaves, refusing to make an appointment. About three weeks later, the same guy approaches our store. I recognize him immediately, and I tell my coworker I’m going to take this. He comes in and pretends we have never met, obviously hoping I have forgotten him. He tells me the exact same story — that he needs his brakes fixed — and asks for the price.)

Me: “Oh, what happened to the offer that [Mechanic] printed for you? You took it with you when you were here three weeks ago.”

Customer: *shocked that I recognized him* “Um, I, eh… I guess I lost it.”

Me: “Well, okay, then. We can just print it again. The price will be the same.”

Customer: “Oh… The price is going to be the same?!”

Me: “Yes, and we still need to make that appointment.”

Customer: “But I can’t make an appointment! Why can’t you do it now?”

Me: “For the same reason I told you three weeks ago. We can’t let other people who have made appointments weeks ago wait, just because you don’t want to make an appointment.”

Customer: “Now that’s ridiculous. Let me talk to a mechanic.”

(I call one of the mechanics on duty and tell him the whole story. He then tells the customer the exact same things that I told him, but the guy continues to ask really stupid questions.)

Mechanic: “Look. I really don’t have time to talk to you about things that you could have easily asked [My Name]. I have work to do. Now, if you have any more questions, please go talk to [My Name]. She is great at her job and knows what she’s talking about.”

(I can’t help but smile and wave slowly at him. He comes back to me, obviously pretty unhappy with what he has just been told.)

Customer: “I’d like to make an appointment.”

Me: *with big smile* “Sure. The next appointment will be available next Thursday.”

Customer: “Okay, I’ll take that.”

(When he came to pick up his car after his appointment, he told me he did some research and it turned out I was right with everything I said. He used to be a mechanic himself and said things had just changed so much since he retired. Apparently, he was just extremely sad to find out that his knowledge from twenty years ago wasn’t going to help him anymore.)

(My boutique store has a couple of locations, and our inventory system is fairly rudimentary, so we often have to text photos of products to each other to show customers. The owner also likes to give out assignments and miscellaneous chores via text, so we always have our cell phones nearby in case we need them. I am helping a lady who is looking for a specific color vase.)

Me: “Hmm, it looks like we only have the light blue and the burgundy, but I do remember seeing a green or teal one at the other location last week. Would you like me to check on it for you?”

Customer: “Yes, please.”

(I call the other store and confirm they have it, and the customer asks if she can see what it looks like, so I ask my coworker to text me some photos. I pull my phone out and show the photos to the customer.)

Customer: “Yes, okay, I like that one. Can you have it sent here and call me when I can pick it up?”

Me: “Of course!”

(I begin to text my coworker to set it aside.)

Customer: “You know, you really shouldn’t be on your cell phone during work.”

Me: *pause* “Beg your pardon?”

Customer: “It’s very unprofessional; it makes you look like a millennial, like you aren’t present.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I was letting my coworker know to set the vase aside for transfer. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Customer: “Well, you shouldn’t even have your phone with you.”

Me: “I was only able to show you photos of the product because of my phone. It’s one of the ways my coworkers and I communicate between stores, since our inventory system is pretty old-fashioned.”

Customer: “Whatever. You should just keep in mind that it’s rude, okay?”

Me: *another pause* “I will bear that in mind. Let’s get you rung up for that vase.”

(A wealthy-looking, middle-aged woman comes into the nail salon while I’m waiting for my appointment.)

Customer: “Hello. I’m here for my one o’clock appointment with [Nail Tech].”

Receptionist: “Okay, if I could just get your name, please?”

Customer: “It’s [Customer].”

Receptionist: “Oh, no, it looks like you’re late for your appointment.”

Customer: *laughs, thinking the receptionist is joking* “I know it’s 1:10 right now, but you know how it can just get so busy!”

Receptionist: “No, I mean your appointment was booked for noon.”

Customer: “No, it isn’t. I know for a fact that it was one o’clock.”

Manager: *takes over* “Ma’am, it’s written right here as being booked for 12:00 pm.”

Customer: “No, look.” *pulls out smartphone* “I have it written down here as… Oh. Oh, well. I guess the appointment was for noon. But I still need [Nail Tech] to do my mani-pedi now.”

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m very sorry but [Nail Tech] is booked up all day. However, we can have another employee help you at this time.”

Customer: “No, that won’t do. I must have [Nail Tech]. Anyone else is a waste of my time and money!”

Manager: “Well, we can book a new appointment with [Nail Tech] for another day.”

Customer: “No. I have a party tonight and I need my nails done before then! Can’t you just… give me someone else’s appointment with [Nail Tech], and schedule them with someone else?”

Manager: *starting to get impatient* “No, ma’am, we can’t do that.”

Customer: “You should have called me, then! I live only a couple blocks away! If you’d have called me when I missed my appointment, then I would have been here on time!”

Manager: “Well, we would have called you, ma’am, but you never gave us your phone number.”

Customer: “Well, I never! I guess I just won’t have my nails done for my dinner, then! I hope you feel bad about this!” *storms off in a huff*

(I am working on a fairly busy night, while my coworker is on their last break. Though we are a gas station, we serve pizza, and since it’s a small town, we are the best place to even get pizza. Someone calls in an order and I give them an estimated time of thirty-five minutes, based on customer flow. My partner comes back, and I am able to start early. Ten minutes after the call was placed, a customer comes in.)

Customer: “Hey! I’m here for my pizza!”

Me: *laughing* “Man, you’re super early! But, you’re in luck, it’s not going to be thirty-five after all, it’ll be done in about ten.”

Customer: “What are you talking about? I called in an order like forty minutes ago.”

(I am now very confused. We have two phones in the store, and each is a separate number. I’ve had only the one call all night for pizza.)

Me: “No… You called in about ten minutes ago. Remember? You ordered [pizza].”

Customer: “What? No! I ordered [completely different pizza]!”

(He’s getting agitated, and I’m not sure if I should continue the pizza. I ask my coworker and the shift manager if either of them had gotten busy and forgotten to tell me about another pizza order. Neither had.)

Me: “I’m sorry, we’ve only had one call today. Did you call the other side of the store?”

Customer: “Oh, my God! No! I called here and spoke directly to your kitchen!”

(Our “kitchen” is the other end of the cash register counter. I look back at it and motion to it.)

Me: “That’s our kitchen. We only have the one phone, and I would have taken the call.”

Customer: “I don’t believe this! LOOK! THIS IS YOUR NUMBER! THIS IS THE NUMBER I CALLED!”

(He shoves his phone in my face, and I don’t recognize the number he called. I don’t even recognize the area code.)

Me: “Hey, [Shift Manager]? Which town has the area code [code]?”

Shift Manager: “[Town thirty minutes away].”

Customer: “Okay, you know what? I’m calling, and I’m going to get an apology, and my pizza for free for this bulls***!”

(He dials the number.)

Customer: “Hello! I called in for [Pizza]… Yes, that’s me. Hey, where is your store located?” *gives me a smug look, then his face just falls* “Oh. No, I’ll be there, sorry. Thank you.” *hangs up and leaves without another word*

(My father and I are coming back home from church. We are speaking English because we attend an American church and just didn’t bother going back to speaking French. We’re both fluent and speak English with no accent at all. We take seats in the underground and go on with our conversation for a few minutes until I notice that the lady in the seat next to mine is glaring at us. Keep in mind that we’re in Paris, one of the cities with the most tourists in the world.)

Lady: *in French, to her friend, obviously thinking my father and I don’t understand* “These foreigners are way too loud! Why are they here? If they want to speak English, they should go back to their country. They should make an effort to speak French.”

(She keeps going on like that for quite some time. I tell my father, who was politely going to tell her to shut up that it’s not worth it, but her rant is starting to annoy me. At that point she’s speaking very loudly, and the other people around are looking at us.)

Lady: “Ils croivent qu’ils peuvent venir ici et nous envahir avec leur culture!” *They think they can come here and invade us with their culture!*

(There is an enormous grammar mistake in that sentence. Our stop is next, and my father is fuming by that time. I stand up and start towards the doors, but I can’t resist turning around to face her.)

Me: *in French* “Ma’am, you have been incredibly rude, and you’ve been disturbing the other passengers. If you don’t want to see foreigners, don’t live in Paris. Oh, and by the way, ‘croivent’ is not correct French, so maybe you should think twice before telling people to speak French, given that you are obviously unable to speak it correctly yourself.”

(She turned red, and some of the other passengers started laughing, including her own friend. I got off the underground with a huge grin on my face. My dad was laughing his a** off and ended up buying me a cookie on our way back.)