(I am a regular customer at a locally-owned game store. It’s a really nice store, with an in-house arcade and snack bar. We also have weekly gaming and card game tournaments, one of which is going on during the time of this story. I’m browsing a bit, when I overhear this conversation between an employee, who is also my friend, and a customer.)

Employee: “Hi, welcome to [Store]. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Customer: “Yeah, my money back!”

Employee: “I’ll be happy to help you with a return. What item are—”

(The customer slams a copy of Sonic the Hedgehog 2006—a notoriously bad game—onto the counter.)

Customer: “How dare you sell me this piece of s***?!”

Employee: “Sir, please don’t swear at me. Now, would you like cash or store credit?”

Customer: “Give me f***ing cash! This s***hole of a store doesn’t deserve a quality gamer like me to shop here!”

Employee: “Okay, I can give you $5 for this.”

Customer: “FIVE DOLLARS? FIVE F***ING DOLLARS? THAT’S OUTRAGEOUS!”

Employee: “Sir, please calm down.”

Customer: “I PAID FULL PRICE FOR THIS GAME!”

Employee: “Sir, the price sticker is still on here. You paid $10, which is nowhere near the full price.”

Customer: “YOU’RE TRYING TO F***ING RIP ME OFF!”

(The employee motions towards the kids playing a popular trading card game nearby.)

Employee: “Sir, there are children in this store. If you can’t calm down and properly behave, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

(Suddenly, the customer flings the game to the side. He then goes on a rampage throughout the store, flings merchandise off of the shelves and flips over one of the claw machines in the arcade in his rage. The employee called security and the customer was dragged out, still thrashing and swearing!)

(My mother and I are on a drive to Florida when we stop at a small gas station. A customer and her six- or seven-year-old daughter walk away from the restrooms to the counter.)

Cashier: “May I help you?”

Customer: “Your bathrooms are DISGUSTING! Let me talk to a manager! They make me SICK!”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the manager isn’t in right now. Would you like me to file a complaint?”

Customer: “No! I want you to clean the GOD-D*** BATHROOMS!

(At this point, the little girl is trying to drag her mother away and is telling her to calm down. The cashier is clearly shaken and on the verge of tears.)

Cashier: *tearing up* “I’m sorry, but that’s not my position, and the janitors aren’t in right now. Is there anything else I can do?”

Customer: “NO, GOD-D*** IT! JUST GO CLEAN THE D*** TOIL—”

(At this point, my mother has had enough and speaks up in defense of the cashier.)

My Mother: “Look. She has told you she can’t clean it. She has offered solutions. Now use the dirty toilets or you can leave! You don’t have to be such a b****!”

Customer: *taken aback* “Well, I…I…HMPH!”

(She storms out, dragging her kid by the arm. After we leave a second later, we see the woman and her little daughter in the parking lot.)

Customer’s Daughter: “Goodness, Mommy! you didn’t have to be so mean to that lady. She was crying!”

(I’m taking orders at a coffee shop.)

Me: “What can I get you today?”

Customer: “Strawberry banana smoothie.”

Me: “What size would you like?”

Customer: “Strawberry banana.”

Me: “Yep, and what size?”

Customer: “Strawberry banana.”

Me: “But what size would you like?”

Customer: “STRAWBERRY BANANA.”

Me: *trying another approach* “Would you like a large or a small?”

Customer: “Medium!”

(I’m a waiter in a very authentic, very small Japanese restaurant. I’m filling drinks at a table of four people in their mid-twenties—two guys and two girls.)

Customer: “Um, yeah… so, I have a question.”

Me: “Sure. What would you like to know?”

Customer: “Yeah… so, like… um… Japanese… uh… Asians… do Asian people like dessert?”

Me: “Well, of course they enjoy dessert. Doesn’t everyone?”

Customer: “So, like… what do they eat, then?”

Me: “Sweet things. Cake, ice cream, candy, and all kinds of sweets.”

Customer: “Oh. So just like us?”

Me: “Yes… just like us.”

(She stares at me, unable to understand why I’m grinning in disbelief. No words are exchanged, so I walk away. As I’m walking, I hear her friend say, “Wow, he hates you.” At the end of her meal she asks for a fortune cookie.)

(I’m about 5′ tall. A customer and her husband are debating about sitting at a tall table or a regular table. Finally, they decide on a regular table.)

Me: “Hey, guys! So you decided on this one?”

Customer: “Yeah, I just don’t like the tall tables. It’s weird when my feet don’t touch the ground.”

Me: “I definitely understand that. Sometimes I like the tall tables just because it’s the only time I get to be tall.”

Customer: “Hey, yeah! You’re kind of a shrimp, aren’t you?”

Me: “Yeah, I guess.”

Customer: “No, but really. You’re really short!”