I had a similar interaction to the one in this story with my senior-year English teacher. She hated me. She once pulled me aside after class to accuse me of doodling the entire time. We were reading “Hamlet” at the time, and even though her interpretations of everything were always way off, I knew that if my answers didn’t match hers, I’d be “wrong”. So, I made a point of taking copious notes that day.

This was in 2000 or 2001, so the days of black notebook paper, which I was using. She couldn’t read it, but she could tell she’d been wrong, and she looked like I’d made her eat s***. She very grudgingly let me off with:

Teacher: “Well… as long as you can read it.”

Me: *Happily* “I can!”

And I mentally flipped her off on my way out the door.

Related:
When You Wish They’d Cool Off A Bit

I work in the lingerie department at a department store. This guy comes in.

Customer: “I’m looking for something sexy for my girlfriend.”

Me: “What size is she?”

He looks me up and down in the creepiest possible way.

Customer: “About your size.”

Whenever a guy is creepy, I do my usual thing where I get them to spend way too much on lingerie, which both drains their bank account — thus getting me a good commission — and makes sure that whoever the creep is dating at least gets something good out of the relationship.

A week later, the same guy comes in with a woman — who is definitely not my size — and his two small children. I glance at the woman’s finger and realize that she is not in fact his “girlfriend” but his wife. He sort of sheepishly stands behind her, not making eye contact with me, while she returns the lingerie he bought (I think it was probably for the person he is having an affair with) because it obviously doesn’t fit her.

I don’t want to be the one to break it to her. I mean, it isn’t completely inconceivable that he just “accidentally” called her his girlfriend and completely estimated the wrong size for her. So instead, I happily take back the lingerie and then make sure the guy spends hours waiting while I find his wife multiple more expensive items in her size to replace them with.

While I’m ringing her up, she thanks me.

Wife: “I don’t know how he got my size so wrong; he’s always gotten it right before.”

In response, I sort of shrugged, but I shot the guy a look of absolute disgust, which I think she caught. I overheard her start to interrogate him about my reaction on the way out.

I never knew what happened after, but I hope that woman ran for the hills from that a**hole.

I used to be a manager in billing. A caller was screaming at one of my agents to the point that she was crying. The conversation went like this before they got to me.

Caller: “My services went out for half an hour, and I demand a credit!”

Agent: “Yes, ma’am, I can offer $25 as a courtesy credit.”

Caller: “Are you joking? That’s nowhere near enough to compensate me for my inconvenience! I know they hire idiots at your company, but you have to be the lowest of the low to think of even offering a figure that low! Put me through to your manager as it’s obvious I am just going to be wasting my time with you!”

She put the caller through to her supervisor.

Supervisor: “My agent was correct and following procedure by offering a $25 courtesy credit, ma’am. Since you have expressed that this outage has severely inconvenienced you, I can offer you $50.”

Caller: “You idiots aren’t getting it, are you?! I have been severely inconvenienced, and you think a measly $50 is going to cut it? Your company makes billions! Put me through to the manager; this is a waste of my time!”

The call got to me and irritated me to the point that I was grinding my teeth.

Me: “Well, ma’am, I have listened to the gist of the calls, and all I have heard is you hurling abuse at my agents for following correct and proper procedure. Therefore, I will not be offering the $50 that you should have taken from the supervisor, and I will not even be allowing the original $25 that was offered by my agent.”

Caller: “No! You have to give me the $50! You agreed!”

Me: “And you rejected it, so that offer is gone. But I am a fair man, and I am aware that your service was genuinely out for half an hour. At your current bill, that comes to four cents prorated, but I’ll make it eight cents and round it up to an hour since I’m a nice guy. You’ll see that credited in your next bill. Is there anything else I can help you with, ma’am?”

Caller: “You f******—”

Me: “Thank you for calling, and have a great day!” *Click*

Customer: “I need gas.”

Me: “How much, and what pump for you today?”

Customer: “I need to fill up out there! What the f*** do you think?!”

He just points at the window and makes no attempts to be specific.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but here at [Gas Station Chain], we need to start with an amount when you pay inside, and also, which one was it again?”

Customer: “I just need to f****** fill it, g**d*** it! It’s the white truck out there! F****** bulls*** town.”

Me: “We could start the number a little high; whatever you don’t use, it puts right back on the card when you hang it up. And which white truck is it?”

Customer: “It’s right f****** there. Are you r****ded? Fine, put eighty on there.”

At this point, through the process of elimination, I have figured out which truck is his, and I proceed so I can get him out of the way.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, it appears your card has been declined. We can set it up again in case it was just a wrong PIN.”

Customer: “You pieces of s***. I come here all the time!”

In four years, I’ve never seen him.

Customer: “I know the owner!”

The president of the large corporate company is over two thousand miles away; I think I’m in the clear.

Customer: “Here! Just put twenty in cash on there! Can you f****** do that?!”

Me: “Absolutely, sir. You have yourself a fine day now.”

At this point, I attempt to wash myself of this man, but the jacka** has other plans. He pushes past my other customers, physically almost slams into the door, angrily sets up the pump, and then proceeds to think he’s gonna smoke a f****** cigarette at the pump.

I immediately hit the hard stop, go to the intercom, look straight out at him, and begin shaking my head, waving my finger, going, “Ah, ah, ah,” just like the guy from “Jurassic Park”.

Fuming, he comes back to try and lay into me, but my boss is there, and she has witnessed the entire thing.

Boss: *To me* “Go in the back.”

Customer: “What the f*** is your guy’s problem?! That little piece of s*** needs to come out here! I’ll kick his f****** a**!”

Boss: “Did you just threaten my employee?! What gives you the nerve? Do I need to call the cops? Get the f*** out of my store!”

The customer was both fuming angry and white as a sheet as he pivoted and went straight out the door. My boss immediately went and saved the camera footage for the inevitable Human Resources call, but it never came.

A guy comes into the restaurant with about twenty little kids.

Me: “Do we have a reservation for a kid’s party?”

Manager: “We absolutely do not.” *Approaching the customer* “Sir, do you have a reservation?”

Customer: “No, but they’re having a party, and it doesn’t look too busy in here.”

Manager: “We require reservations for such a party as we normally ensure we are staffed adequately for—”

Customer: “We’ll just take these three empty tables here. Put them together for me.”

My manager is nice and gives him the back room.

Manager: “We will do our best, but we are understaffed for this, so be patient.”

The guy starts getting annoyed with us when the service and the food aren’t instant. Unsurprisingly, all the seven-or-so-year-olds start running around as they’re getting bored.

Customer: “This really is taking too long. I think all the kids should get a free dessert for making them wait.”

Manager: “Sir, your failure to plan a venue for a children’s party is not going to become our problem.”

Customer: “Ugh. You’re lucky I’m a nice guy.”

His bill came to around $300. I folded it in half as I gave it to him. He signed it, tipped $20, and wrote, “You deserve less, but I am a nice guy.”

He didn’t realize there was already an 18% tip added because of his group size, but I had folded this part of the receipt over so he hadn’t seen it. Thanks for the extra tip!

Related:
A Lack Of Planning On Your Part…, Part 3
A Lack Of Planning On Your Part…, Part 2
A Lack Of Planning On Your Part…