This story begins about ten to twelve years ago. I was in my late twenties and I had bought a secondhand car at a car dealership. For a while, everything seemed fine, but then the car started revealing some issues.

First, after about a year, there was a wheel bearing problem (they were worn out) that I had to pay to have fixed. I was a little annoyed that those got worn out so soon after buying the car, but worse was yet to come.

About three years after buying the car, alert lamps started going off on the dashboard. I brought the car into a local workshop, and they diagnosed it as an ABS module failure. Basically, the control unit for the ABS brakes had to be replaced.

At this point, I should explain that in my country, we have a very good Consumer Rights law. Among other things, it states that if a product has a longer life expectancy than two years, then you can automatically expect it to last at least five years. If it doesn’t, the seller (if it’s a business) will be obliged to either repair the item for you or give you your money back. This applies to most items that cost a certain amount of money, and cars are certainly on the list. Not everything is covered (for instance, normal wear and tear), but something that is expected to last the car’s lifetime is.

Knowing this, I decided to contact the dealership to arrange for them to repair the ABS module. I drove for three hours and entered their shop, found the seller, and explained the problem.

Salesperson: “Well, that’s not really our problem, sorry.”

Me: “But… it’s only been three years since I bought the car. I bought it from here, and you’re a business. That means issues like this one are covered for five years.”

Salesperson: “Sorry, we can’t take responsibility for that.”

And that was pretty much the end of the conversation. Talking the matter over with my dad, we were both sure that we were right and that the seller was trying to pull one over on me.

I went back home (another three-hour drive) and double-checked the law. Then I wrote a very lawyer-like email to the dealership, quoting the correct sections of applicable law, which also specified that the seller of a faulty item needed to repair it with little to no inconvenience or cost to the customer. Obviously, travelling for hours would be quite inconvenient and cost me a bit of money, too.

I ended the email by saying that since I had already been to see them and been dismissed, I could get the car fixed myself and send them the bill. This would be much more costly for them, but that wasn’t my problem. They’d had their chance.

The next day, I got a response — not from the salesperson but the company manager. It was a full retreat, claiming that there had been a misunderstanding; they thought I was talking about a different car. I suspected they were lying. There was no way they didn’t know which car I was talking about; I had only bought one car from that company and they have complete records of all the cars they buy and sell. Still, the manager offered to have the issue repaired post-haste, as soon as I could make my way back there. I decided not to press the issue, as I was essentially getting what I wanted (even though I should have been given it earlier).

I went back a while later and they fixed the issue without any cost to me. The car had several other problems later: the ESP module went, and the servo pump also needed changing… but the dealership never tried to argue with me again.

A few years later, I saw the salesperson on TV. It was one of those shows that help people who are struggling with legal issues. Apparently, this particular car dealership had been trying to cheat lots of customers for years using the same sort of tactics they had against me. They were telling customers who reported problems that it wasn’t their responsibility (despite the law saying otherwise), hoping to get away with it if the customers didn’t know their rights. The TV journalist tore the salesman a new one, listing case after case where they had broken the law, forcing the company reps to make a meek apology. They looked pathetic. On national TV.

I had already cut ties with the dealership at this point, never doing any sort of business with them again. My dad (who had previously bought four different cars from this dealership) also blacklisted them. The dealership is still in business, but from what I’m told, they made some changes to their personnel after that TV show’s visit.

Know your legal rights, people!

Anyone in my industry knows that the Sunday post-church crowd is the ABSOLUTE WORST. This family comes in, dressed in their Sunday best, and orders a round of drinks. I am quitting this job soon, so I have become a bit… sassier.

Me: “Certainly, ma’am. I’ll just go get those for you.”

Customer: “Uh, excuse me! We would like to order our food, too!”

Me: “Absolutely! What are you having?”

Customer: “I don’t quite like your tone. Patience is a virtue, my dear. You’d know that if you were in Church today.”

Me: “My job title is literally waiter, ma’am. I’m here waiting for you to give me your order.”

Customer: “How dare you?! Get me your manager!”

Me: “He’s busy taking orders, ma’am. Can you wait?”

Customer: “Get him here right this instant!“

Me: “Not possible, ma’am. Please be patient; it’s a virtue, remember?”

She waited while glaring. Her complaint was told to the manager who casually laughed it off once they were gone.

Around eight years ago, my wife and I were at a big box store buying the stuff to make a pizza. When I have time, I prefer to make the crust from scratch, but I buy premade when I’m in a hurry. We were hungry now, so we were looking at said premade crusts.

I went to grab our favorite type but noticed that they were all expired. I knew from having previously worked at a different location of this store that they would not be noticed by staff any time soon, so they wouldn’t be reordered, so I took the entire selection and sought out an employee.

Luckily, just as I left the aisle, I saw a manager speaking with someone. I stood nearby waiting to speak with him. He saw me with my armful of crusts.

Manager: “Yes? What?”

Me: “These crusts are all expired.”

Manager: *Angrily* “Then take them to claims!”

I looked at him for a second.

Me: “Are you sure?”

Manager: *Even louder* “TAKE THEM TO THE D*** CLAIMS AREA! AND PICK UP YOUR F****** VENDOR BADGE WHILE YOU’RE BACK THERE! Also, I don’t think that a band shirt is part of your company’s dress code!”

I was wearing my favorite Dead Kennedys shirt that day. I stared at him, just waiting to see how this would play out. He stared back for a moment, and then realization slowly dawned.

Manager: “You… you do work for the crust company, right?”

Me: “No, I just thought you’d like to know that you have expired product on the shelf so you can get it replaced.”

He apologized repeatedly and offered to comp a different crust option for me. I took it, but from then on, my wife and I shopped at another store.

I am on a long road trip and get hungry. As I’m in a rural area, there are not many options for food, and I end up stopping at a fast food place I typically try to avoid. Inside there is a sign that says that due to staff shortages, customers need to order from the kiosks. There is one employee working the front end, making the specialty drinks, calling out order numbers, and handling customer complaints.

Our order numbers are listed in order on a TV screen above the pick-up counter. Every number is being called out in order, without variation. I am order number seventeen, and until order number sixteen gets their food, there is no issue. I move up to the counter as I should be next, but a man shoves his way in front of me.

Man: “Where is my order? I’ve been waiting for five minutes!”

Employee: “Sir, you have order number nineteen. You need to wait until your number is called. There are customers ahead of you.”

Man: “I don’t care! I ordered four kids’ meals and four apple pies. Give them to me now!”

Employee: “Sir, I can’t do that. There are customers who have been waiting longer.”

Man: “I left my kids in the car alone! The oldest is only six! They’re probably crying with starvation by now. You are literally starving my babies! I won’t wait a minute longer. Give me my kids’ meals!”

The employee puts a rush on his order after that, and he is served next. The employee looks flustered but begins making a medium pineapple mango smoothie, which I ordered. A woman in a business suit pushes her way past me and begins drumming her nails on the counter. The employee sets the smoothie and a bag containing a chicken sandwich and apple slices on the counter. The woman immediately grabs the smoothie.

Employee: “Order number seventeen!”

Woman: “This is wrong! I ordered a salad.”

Employee: “No, number seventeen had a smoothie, sandwich, and apples.”

Woman: “Are you stupid? I had a smoothie and a salad!”

Me: “She’s not stupid. That’s my smoothie you took. We must have ordered the same one. That is my order.”

Woman: “Don’t defend her. She made my order wrong. Get me my f****** salad!”

Employee: “Yes, ma’am.”

The employee, now looking extremely confused and flustered, bags the woman’s salad and puts it on the counter.

Employee: “So sorry for the mix-up. I don’t know how I got the order numbers confused.”

Woman: “Whatever.”

The employee now starts making an iced coffee.

Me: “Ma’am, I still haven’t gotten my smoothie. Medium pineapple mango.”

Employee: “I already made that.”

Me: “And the lady with the salad took it. I ordered the same one, with the sandwich and apples.”

Employee: “Oh, my gosh! I am so sorry! I thought the smoothie went with that order! I didn’t realize two customers ordered the same one. I was so confused when she said she ordered a salad. I’ll make your smoothie now.”

She made my smoothie and then checked the order numbers. The woman with the salad was order number twenty, which is why the employee hadn’t seen her smoothie order yet. If the customers had just waited for their turns like they were supposed to, we wouldn’t have had an issue.

I worked as a travel agent for several years, and one story stands out in my mind. A middle-aged man walked in with a request.

Client: “Yeah, I wanna climb Ayers Rock before they close it. How much?”

Me: “Well, I can look up flight prices for you, but please bear in mind that it is extremely offensive to Indigenous peoples for you to climb Uluru. It is a sacred site in their culture.”

Client: “Yeah, but it’s not illegal yet, right?”

Me: *Stern but polite* “No, not illegal, just highly offensive.”

Client: “So, not illegal.”

Me: “Not. Yet.”

I then stared at him using my best judgy face until he got uncomfortable and left. Thankfully, climbing Uluru is now illegal.