I’m a thirty-year-old guy, traveling with my family to Miami to shopping and stuff. It’s my first time in the USA. There is a nice mall in front of our hotel. The shopping mall is big and very exciting. It is pretty fun to see different people at the same time and place from all over the world. I go into a clothing store to buy something for myself.

Suddenly, a female customer approaches me.

Customer: “Excuse me, do you have this in a larger size?”

At first, I think something like, “You know what? I want to help this lady!” I look around and find the same shirt in what appears to be a larger size.

Me: “I found this one. Take a look.”

She takes it from me, looks it over, and then gives it back to me.

Customer: “Okay, I’ll buy it.”

Me: “Um… okay.”

I try to hand the shirt back. When she stares back at me, I realize what is going on.

Me: “Oh, I don’t work here. I’m sorry!”

She takes her glasses off.

Customer: “Okay. Can you call the manager, please?”

I know this is probably the wrong decision, but it is my first time out of my country. At the time, I really think that the best thing to do is try to help and then leave. I go to a guy at a register and tell him what is going on.

Me: “That lady thought I worked here. Now she wants to talk with the manager. I just tried to help, I’m sorry.”

The guy gives me a smile, trying not to laugh.

Guy: “A wild [Nickname For An Entitled Woman] appears, huh?”

I get the Pokémon reference, but at the time, I think she is a well-known customer with a normal woman’s name. The guy goes upstairs to find the manager.

Since I am trying soooo hard to help, I make the most unforgettable/unforgivable mistake of my life. I approach the woman and say:

Me: “Ms. [Nickname], the guy on the register was—”

Customer: “HOW DARE YOU?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TALKING TO?!”

I go pale. I just freeze while the entire store is looking and lift up my hands the exact way I’d do if I was getting robbed. For five minutes, the woman rants, saying all sorts of rude things. Slowly, I approach the register, as if I were a little deer scared by a wolf or a wild boar. The woman is following me, of course, step by step.

I see the manager approaching as my great white horse knight ready to protect me from that dragon.

Customer: “I demand you fire this… this lazy [profanity]!”

The manager takes a look at me and I slowly drop my hands down.

Manager: “Okay, lady. This guy tried to help you, from what I was told, but he doesn’t work here.”

The woman does not seem to be satisfied.

Customer: “You Latinos are just lazy, aren’t you?”

Manager: “If you don’t back off and leave this store, I will call the police, and I and this guy—” *points to me* “—are going to press charges for your racism.”

The woman left. I was like, “WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED?!”

The guy on the register then explained to me what a [Nickname] was.

I work as a screener at a hospital. Since the beginning of the health crisis, patients and visitors have been instructed to stay in their rooms, limit going out of the unit, and avoid spending time in general areas such as entrances, the cafeteria, and the atrium. This has left hospital staff the space to safely distance while taking breaks and fewer places for people to be unmonitored for things like removing their masks.

One day, a visitor comes in to spend time with a parent who has been admitted. After their visit, they come downstairs to the foyer area of the building and settle on a chair. By the time I begin my shift, they have already been there for over half an hour. I deal with a couple of other visitors while they continue to sit there. Finally, I turn to the visitor.

Me: “How much longer will you be waiting?”

Visitor: *A little angry* “I’ve seen staff sitting in chairs here!”

Me: “Yes. They were taking their breaks.”

Visitor: “If visitors aren’t allowed to wait inside the hospital, staff shouldn’t be allowed anywhere, either. They should take their breaks in cubbies instead!”

Not only do we not have cubbies, but there are some departments (like mine!) that don’t even have specific break rooms! On top of that, break room capacity has obviously been limited to fewer people due to the health crisis.

The visitor says they don’t want to cause a problem, but they continue to complain.

Visitor: “What if it was -40? Would you go out there and wait in that weather?!”

It was spring at this point and a lovely day, not to mention that they could have easily gone to their vehicle since they did drive that day.

We’re not unreasonable. If someone wants to wait for their ride for ten minutes inside, I’m not going to kick them out. But you also can’t wait for an hour inside a hospital during a global health crisis. It sucks for everyone, but don’t shoot the messenger!

In my former life, I was the floor manager of a large computer retailer. We were generally a premium-priced store, but various “buy now, pay later” promotions coupled with aggressive sale pricing with “loss leader” products tended to attract customers who simply couldn’t really afford to otherwise be in our store.

One day, a middle-aged chap pops in. He’s shorter than me but quite agitated. He starts screaming about being ripped off and blabbering whilst waving around a copy of a finance contract.

Trying to calm him down and defuse the scene occurring during our Saturday morning peak time, I take a look at the contract to see if I can work out what was sold to him and by whom (mostly hoping that if they’re about, they’ll disappear for a while).

I notice quickly that the contract isn’t in his name but instead in the name of a woman, who turns out to be his mother. He quickly points out that she is a senior citizen on a pension and cannot afford a monthly surcharge on this contract.

I should point out that this is a $2-per-month surcharge that doesn’t actually need to be paid any time soon; it will accrue until the interest-free period ends and will start to be due then.

Customer: “My mother took out this finance on my behalf because I’m unemployed and my attempts to obtain finance myself failed.”

Oh, dear.

Looking at the contract, I note who the salesperson was: our own franchisee, someone who is a stickler for going through the fine print, and who I know would not have missed details about surcharges on finance contracts.

Me: “Sir, all surcharges were made clear before the contract was signed.

Seriously, we bled this stuff, we did it so often.

At this point, my efforts at calming him down had gone out the window and I saw his arm rise with a fist…

…just in time for him to be pinned from behind by one of the sales guys — one who had recently moved from being a nightclub bouncer to retail, so he was fairly attuned to when things were going down and knew how to react.

This sales guy promptly marched the chap from the store to his car and suggested in no uncertain terms that he think twice about returning.

I worked at one of the most expensive computer retailers in the country, and the first time a customer almost dropped me was over a $2-a-month surcharge on financing the chap couldn’t even afford to compensate his mother for.

Working in the meat department, I was stocking our processed section — hot dogs, bacon, prepackaged cold cuts, etc.

Customer: “Can you help me? I’m looking for [Bologna].”

I gladly pointed him to our admittedly limited selection of that brand. He angrily commented as he looked at the four items we carried:

Customer: “That’s it?”

Then, he pointed at some beef bologna.

Customer: “You don’t have any smaller packages of that?”

Me: *Politely* “No, I’m afraid we don’t.”

He then pointed to some salami, even angrier.

Customer: “I don’t like hard salami. Don’t you have any Cotto salami?”

Still remaining calm and polite, I responded:

Me: “No, sorry. This is all we have.”

Customer: *Loudly* “Why don’t you have more? They have a lot more stuff than this!”

Me: “I know, but I’m afraid this is all corporate will authorize us to carry. Maybe one of our other stores in the area has what you want.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! You don’t have anything I want!”

He scowled and then yelled:

Customer: “THIS IS WHY I STOPPED SHOPPING HERE FORTY YEARS AGO!”

He stormed off, but not before a woman nearby chimed in.

Customer #2: “This store’s only been here for twenty years.”

We have not seen or heard from the man since. Perhaps in another forty years, he will return and we will have his precious Cotto salami.

On days with clear weather, I usually like to take my breaks outside with a cold drink. One day, a customer comes up to me while I’m on break.

Customer: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Meaning what?”

Customer: “What are you doing out here?”

I’m told I have an unusual tolerance for cold; being the fool I am, I assume he’s concerned that my uniform — which is, admittedly, not built to preserve body heat — means being out here is unsafe.

Me: “I don’t find it that cold—”

Customer: “No, what are you doing out here? You should be in there!”

Me: “Huh? Oh, I’m on break.”

Customer: “Why?”

I am completely blindsided by that question.

Me: “…What?”

Customer: “Why are you on break?”

Me: “…Because I’m allotted a break?”

Customer: “Well, you shouldn’t be!”

I was sorely tempted to take a big swig of my drink just so I could spit-take all over this man.