I work out at a private gym with a personal trainer twice a week. I had a baby this year, so I bring her with me and she just plays on the floor while I exercise. Because of this, the trainers usually leave the parking spot closest to the gym open for me so I don’t have to walk as far with all my stuff.

I’m in the middle of my workout. The door to the gym opens and in walks a man, probably in his mid-forties. He’s wearing a business suit, so he’s clearly not here to work out. Again, it’s a private gym, so we don’t really get walk-ins.

Trainer: “Can I help you?”

Man: “Yeah, she’s parked in the closest spot.” *Points at me*

My trainer looks at me.

Trainer: “Did you park in one of our parking spots?”

Me: “Yes, I parked in the same spot I always do.”

Man: “Yeah, I’ve seen you park there before. That’s why I followed you in here. I wanted to park there!”

Me: “…”

Trainer: “Sorry, sir, just to clarify… she’s parked in a gym parking lot. You parked somewhere else just to follow her in here and ask her to move?!”

Man: “Yes! She’s younger and I don’t want my car to get scratched. She should move so I can park there.”

This went in circles for a while until finally one of the other trainers had to come out and force the man to leave. He was shouting that the closest spots should be left for those with the nicest vehicles. Honestly, some people!

I work at a call center where we are required to verify certain pieces of security information with the customer. If the customer does everything online, and this security information is wrong, we have to contact the customer and verify the correct information. One of these pieces of information is the billing address as it reads on the customer’s account.

Near the beginning of the global health crisis, I had to call one of these customers who had provided incorrect information. This tends to happen a lot because people will put an address on file and then forget to update it as their life changes. It’s completely understandable; however, we still have to follow the security protocol.

The customer was unable to verify the address multiple times, even when I suggested he log into his account to find the address and read it off to me. It’s frustrating, but I can’t do anything about it besides make suggestions about where he can look.

We do have a workaround, though; if you’re unable to verify this information, we can run you through a different program where you have to answer questions based on what the government knows about you — things like, “What color was this make and model of car you had?” or, “Which of the following streets did you live on?” You are asked three questions, but you only have to get two of them correct. I can do this twice before the system locks you out.

The customer failed both times.

At this point, after we’ve exhausted the other options, we no longer can assist you over the phone; you have to go to your account and download a specific piece of paperwork that you can only get if you have account access and then upload it to us so we have proof you’re legitimate and not a scammer.

When I informed the customer that I would need this document, after he was unable to provide the billing address multiple times, and after he was unable to answer any of the security questions, he decided this was a perfectly valid response:

Customer: “I hope you get [contagious illness] and die!”

When I later reviewed the call with my supervisor, we found that the customer had managed to upload the document in question, so they weren’t even a scammer, just an a**hole.

Some years ago, I worked in a small pub in Paris. I was a regular before I was hired, and the owner and I came to the conclusion that we kind of looked the same: we are both redheads (but she was a real redhead with curly red hair while I only had the skin type and freckles — I dye my hair), we both have a nose ring, and we both have big tattoos on our right forearms (they don’t look alike at all, but for some people, it’s the same). We really don’t share the same clothing style, but we even share the same facial type: long jaw, small nose, etc. We had some laughs about me being a gothic version of herself.

I was working alone one night. A big table of regulars started to leave after being in there for a long time. One of the guys came up to me.

Customer: “Oh, I really have to tell you this. I’m sorry, but I hate what you did to your hair. It’s ugly.”

Me: “Well… you think I’m [Owner], right?

Customer: “Huh?”

Me: “You are amazing. First of all, you can’t tell two people apart. But second, you think you have a right to say how one of them has to dress or style her hair, anyway? And third, if you only have bad things to say, why say it? [Owner] doesn’t owe you any style. You obviously don’t even know who she really is. Please don’t make rude comments, even to the wrong person. Have a nice evening.”

He went back pretty sheepishly to his friends, who were laughing at him.

Why would you even comment on your favorite bartender’s hairstyle?

After recovering from a mild illness, I need to head out for groceries, but I’m still feeling a bit dehydrated. I head to an open, manned cash register, grab a couple of bottles of Gatorade out of the cooler, and approach the cashier.

Cashier: “Just these for you today?”

Me: “Well, so far. I’m a little bit dehydrated, so I’m going to pay for these now and drink them while I shop.”

Cashier: “Oh, that’s smart! Here’s your change and receipt. See you later, maybe!”

I thank her, grab a cart, and start shopping. I keep the receipt for my bottles of Gatorade in my pocket in case anyone stops me, but nobody seems to notice or care until I come across an employee stocking shelves. This employee sees me taking a drink of my Gatorade, immediately drops what he’s doing, and makes a beeline for me.

Employee: “Sir, you can’t drink that until after you pay for it! That’s theft.”

Me: “I already paid for it before I started doing any other shopping. Here’s my receipt right here.”

I start to pull the receipt from my pocket.

Employee: “I’m not falling for that one. Give me the Gatorade, leave your cart here, and leave the store!”

Me: “Could you call a manager for me? I think we’re having a big misunderstanding here.”

Employee: “I’m not misunderstanding anything. You’re stealing from [Store], I caught you, and now you need to leave. If I need to call anyone, it’s going to be the cops.”

Me: “You know what? If it’s that important to you, go ahead and call the cops. We’ll see what they have to say.”

The employee immediately starts to back down.

Employee: “Well… I…”

Me: “Please call your manager for me now, or I can go up to Customer Service and call for a manager there.”

The employee doesn’t respond, so I take my cart (with my bottles of Gatorade) up to the Customer Service desk and ask for a manager, who arrives a few minutes later. The employee has taken the opportunity to disappear.

Manager: “How can I help you, sir?”

Me: “There seemed to be a misunderstanding with one of your stock employees. I purchased a few bottles of Gatorade to drink while I shop. I have the receipt right here, and you could probably check with the cashier on register four or your security camera footage to verify it. Your employee saw me drinking one of the bottles, accused me of stealing it, and threatened to call the cops after I asked him to call for you to clear things up.”

Manager: “I see. Do you know which employee it was?”

Me: “I didn’t see a name, but…”

I give a physical description of the employee.

Manager: “Okay, I believe I know who you’re talking about. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. You’re free to finish your shopping, sir. I’ll find my employee and have a word with him.”

I realize that paying for something before you shop to eat or drink while you shop probably isn’t all that common, but I have no clue why that employee was so intent on playing the hero for “stopping me from stealing”. I continued using that grocery store pretty regularly and never did see that particular employee again, so I have an educated guess on how his manager’s talk with him went.

It’s a busy Friday night. I am working near the entrance and I hear our host tell a small group:

Host: “It’s going to be a twenty-minute wait for a table.”

While the host is seating people who were there first, this group sees a dirty table and I overhear them mumbling:

Customer: “They’re obviously terrible at their job; there are tables free!”

They go sit at the dirty table, and as I am the first person they see, they address me.

Customer: “We’re ready to order drinks!”

Me: “Thanks for eating with us today. Your bill will be along shortly.”

Customer: “Uh… No, we just sat down. Can you clear the table?”

Me: “No, you must have been here already. We don’t seat people until the tables have been cleared. I’ll bring you the bill…”

I went to fetch the imaginary bill. When I came back, they were back in the waiting area.

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