I was working at the service desk. A man in a hoodie with the hood up came up and got behind the guy I was helping. Then, an old black woman came in. She walked right past the man waiting and plopped her things down as soon the man who was being helped was done.

I looked at the man in the hoodie and called him forward.

The lady immediately began to yell and accused me of being racist for helping the “white” man before her.

The man pulled his hood down. He was also black. The lady then went quiet.

I had just moved to the city and had just started working at a bank. I didn’t have the company apparel yet but had a good amount of business clothes, plus I like dressing nice. I was done early that day, so I figured I’d stop to do some clothes shopping.

I was shopping around the store in the business attire section — in my business attire, so one could guess why there would be confusion. This lady who only spoke Spanish asked if I spoke Spanish and if I could help her. I said yes and asked what she needed.

Lady #1: “¿Sabes donde están las maletas?” *Do you know where the suitcases are?*

Me: “Perdón, señora, yo no trabajo aquí, pero creo que están en el primer piso.” *Sorry, ma’am, I don’t work here, but I think they’re on the first floor.*

We both laughed and she commented on how nice my clothes looked. It made me blush a little bit — I’m self-conscious and she thanked me for helping her.

Less than a minute later, another lady came up to me and demanded in a not-so-nice way that I get her another coat with matching pants in a particular size, asked why we had suits mixed up, and insisted specifically that I get her a f****** dressing room since she had no idea why we only had two open in the middle of the health crisis.

I explained to her that, 1) we were in a health crisis, 2) I didn’t know s**** about suits; I just wear them, and 3) I didn’t f****** work there.

Lady #2: “Of course, you f****** work here. Why else would you be dressed like that?”

Me: “Because I like dressing nice, and frankly, it’s none of your business.”

Lady #2: “Well, I saw you helping the other lady! Stop lying!”

Me: “Because she was nice. Maybe you should try it every once in a while.”

At this point, one of the actual workers saw what was going on and intervened. We both happened to be in the changing room later (different stalls), and she started going off on the phone about how a “rude employee” refused to help her.

When I was done trying on new suits, she was talking to the manager about me, and she exclaimed, “That short one!” when I walked by! The manager was like, “Who is that dude?”

I just laughed and paid for my clothes.

I have a coworker who is neurodivergent. He essentially takes most spoken phrases literally and has difficulty understanding some societal nuances. Funnily enough, he talks at length about his love for “Star Trek: The Next Generation” and how he relates to the character Data.

Customer: “I need to return this iPhone.”

Coworker: “What is the reason for the return?”

Customer: “It broke.”

The customer presents a phone with a cracked screen. The receipt puts it outside our return window.

Coworker: “Did you purchase a warranty with us or Apple?”

Customer: “I shouldn’t have to! It shouldn’t break so easily! I need this refunded!”

Coworker: “I’m afraid that if you’ve not purchased a warranty, there is nothing we can do.”

Customer: “Look! The customer is always right! I need—”

Coworker: “That’s not true.”

Customer: “What?”

Coworker: “You’re not right in this instance. And you’re a customer. Therefore, the customer cannot always be right.”

The customer is dumbfounded for a moment, as calling out the obviousness of the biggest fallacy in retail isn’t expected in our field.

Customer: “No… I mean, you have to do as I say! I need you to—”

Coworker: “That’s not true. I am here to service our customers within the store policies. Outside store policies, there is nothing I can do.”

Customer: “Then I need to speak to a manager!”

A manager is called, and the return is denied. As the customer storms out, she passes my coworker.

Customer: “And you! You… it’s like talking to a robot!”

Coworker: *Beaming* “Thank you!”

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On a busy Friday night, we have a line of customers at the pickup window at my family’s pizzeria where I am the manager. I usually take care of the customers because I know most people’s names and orders so I can get them out quickly.

A man in his fifties is the last in line at the moment. He waits his turn, looking annoyed the whole time. Then, he comes up to pick up his order. He tells me it’s under “Theresa.”

We have two ticket rails for orders that are currently being prepared, and we have completed orders on top of the pizza oven to keep them hot.

The rest of the staff are busy either on the phone or preparing other orders, so I squeeze through and start looking for his order on top of the oven (ten to fifteen orders). After not finding it on top of the oven, I begin to look through the tickets that are currently cooking (twenty to thirty orders).

It’s a small place where you can see our entire kitchen, and the whole time I am looking, he keeps repeating:

Customer: “It’s under Theresa! Theresa! It’s a large [pizza] with a side of wings!”

Me: *Politely* “I am working on it, as you can see.”

I get through all the orders and there is no Theresa.

Me: “May I ask for your name to see if maybe she put it under that?”

Customer: *Agitated* “No chance! It’s definitely under Theresa! We order from you all the time!”

This happens a lot; one person will call the order in and put it under the name of the person picking it up. Usually, we get it figured out pretty fast, although some people have a hard time believing their food could be under a different name if their family/friend put it in. Weird.

I tell him we don’t have an order for Theresa and ask him again for his name. 

Customer: *Almost screaming at this point* “ROBERT!”

Me: “I don’t have an order for Robert. Is it possible you called another restaurant? That happens sometimes. There is another place across town with a similar—”

Customer: “No! We called you! We always call you! Are you an idiot?! How hard is it to find our order?!”

He pulls out his phone, calls the number he used to order the pizza, shoves the phone in my face, and says, “Look!” Then, he points to our phone, expecting it to ring. 

Not. Our. Number.

The phone doesn’t ring. 

Me: “Who’s the idiot now, Bobby?”

Got in his car and sped off. Haven’t seen him since.

I’m having a coffee in a mostly empty ice cream shop when I need to use the restroom. A woman is leaning against the wall next to the restroom door, doing something on her phone. I don’t want to try the door in case she was waiting for it, so I approach her.

Me: “Excuse me, but are you in line for the restroom?”

Woman: “I don’t work here.”

Me: *Genuinely confused* “I didn’t ask if you worked here. I’m asking if you’re wai—”

Woman: “I SAID I DON’T WORK HERE!”

With that, she stormed off, so I tried the restroom door. It was vacant.