It’s about an hour before closing, and I’m behind the counter of our little coffee and pastry van. We have a regular end-of-day deal: all pastries go half price during the final thirty minutes before we shut.

A woman stomps up to the counter.

Customer: “I’ll take a pastry.”

Me: “That’s £2.50.”

Customer: “No, they’re half price.”

Me: “Sorry, the half-price deal starts half an hour before closing. That’s in another thirty minutes.”

Customer: *Huffs loudly.* “But I’m here now. Just give it to me for half price! No one else is going to come and buy your old-looking pastries now!”

Me: “You mean like you just wanted to?”

She crosses her arms and starts staring.

Customer: “How long have you been in this country? You need to show more respect to local Brits!”

I am about to explain to this woman that I was born and raised in the area, when an old man sitting nearby with a cappuccino (who I’d served about ten minutes earlier) strolls on over. He pulls out his wallet:

Other Customer: “I’ll take all six pastries that you have left there, thank you.”

The woman’s eyes nearly pop out of her head.

Customer: “You can’t do that! They’re reserved for me! You’re not allowed to sell them!”

Me: “…you haven’t bought them.”

Customer: “That’s my pastry!”

Other Customer: “Then you should have bought it.”

Customer: *Glaring at the old man, but talking to me.* “Fine! I don’t want anything that your kind made anyway!”

She stormed off and I hand the bag of six pastries to the guy.

Me: “That’s £7.50, please.”

Other Customer: “You mean £15?”

Me: “Oh, my phone conveniently ran out of battery. I’m just assuming it’s about half an hour before I close.”

Other Customer: *Happily tapping his card for £7.50.* “The wife will be pleased! Unlike whoever that was.”

Me: “She was a bit angry, wasn’t she?”

Other Customer: “And stupid! Going on about British this and that but flipping out about not getting a DANISH pastry?! Stupid person!”

Reading this story reminded me of a very similar encounter. I’m working at an electronics kiosk in a shopping centre, selling phone cases and screen protectors. A customer walks up holding a phone with a crack in the screen.

Customer: “My screen broke.”

Me: “Oh, we don’t offer screen repair, only screen protectors.”

Customer: “What do you mean? It says right there that your screen protectors prevent damage.”

Me: “Well, yes, it’s just preventative.”

Customer: “What’s that mean?”

Me: “The protector’s like car insurance; helpful only before the accident.”

Customer: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, like how there’s no point getting insurance after the accident. You need it before.”

Customer: “I’m not following. Insurance pays out if you get into an accident.”

Me: “Yes, but only if you have the insurance before the accident.”

Customer: *Eyes widen.* “Wait… really?”

Me: “Uh… yeah? No insurance company will insure you after the accident.”

Customer: “So wait… all these people are just around paying for insurance… for nothing?”

Me: “Hopefully, yeah!”

Customer: “That’s crazy!”

Me: “Wait, sir, are you driving around without insurance?”

Customer: “Of course I am! I haven’t had an accident yet!”

He stormed out, with me too shocked to do anything. Let’s hope that final ‘yet’ won’t be prophetic!

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I work in a mall kiosk offering passport photos and novelty photo booth prints. A couple in their 60s approaches the counter, holding a sheet of prints with cartoon sunglasses and sparkles edited onto their faces.

Customer (husband): “Hi, we were trying to get passport photos, but we got these instead.”

Me: “Oh no, that’s from the fun booth. The passport one is on the other side of the kiosk.”

Customer (wife): “We were wondering why the camera told us to ‘strike a pose.'”

Customer (husband): “And then put digital fireworks over our heads.”

After a little laugh, I directed them to the correct booth. They didn’t seem annoyed that they had to pay again, commenting that now they had something fun to put on their fridge door.

I was covering a break at one of our zoo’s snack carts yesterday, the kind that sells soft pretzels, sodas, and churros. The churros are simple: pop them in the toaster oven for six minutes and they’re ready to go.

It was decently busy, and someone had just cleared out the last of the ready churros. I hadn’t had a chance to start a new batch yet when the next family stepped up.

Customer: “Hi! Can we get six churros?”

Me: “Sorry, I’m out at the moment, but I’ve got more going in the oven. They’ll be ready in about six minutes.”

They were disappointed but understood. I told them they could come back later once they were ready. As I got the next batch started, I heard a new voice pipe up.

New Guy: *Irritated.* “Why isn’t there a sign saying you’re out?”

Me: “I’m making more right now. They’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

To be clear, I had not sold anyone churros yet. I figured that was that.

Spoiler: it wasn’t. 

This guy didn’t leave. He just sidled a few feet to the side and started muttering with the previous family. I didn’t notice at first because the visibility inside the cart is half blocked by a giant Dippin’ Dots poster. But after a couple of customers, I realized he was still standing off to the side… actively discouraging people from getting in my line.

New Guy: *To other guests.* “She’s out of churros. Don’t bother. Just order something else and wait with us. We’re first.”

Mind you, he never bought anything. Never asked to wait. Never got permission to linger in front of my cart like a snack goblin. 

Finally, the toaster oven dinged. I pull out a fresh batch, coat them in cinnamon sugar, and start loading the warmer. I was going to be nice and wave him and the earlier family over. But before I could, the actual next person in line walked up and ordered a churro.

I start serving her, and that’s when the guy completely loses it.

New Guy: *Storming up.* “NO! GIVE ME MY CHURROS NOW! I’VE BEEN WAITING OVER HERE!”

Me: *Calmly.* “I didn’t tell you that you could wait there, and I haven’t sold you anything. I have plenty of churros. Now, if it’s okay with the next person in line, you can go after her.”

He either misheard me or just didn’t like not getting his way, because he huffed, swore under his breath, and stormed off. I served the kind lady at the window and then offered the actual patient family the next shot at churros, which they appreciated. 

A few minutes later, my coworker returned from her break. I told her the story, and she said I was being way too nice. 

Fair.

I went off to take my own break and informed the MOD (Manager on Duty), just in case. Right as I’m opening my mouth to explain, the radio crackles:

Cashier: *Over radio.* “Uh, someone’s here asking for the name of the churro girl. He wants to file a complaint.”

The MOD gives me the classic “What did you do now?” look, and we head out together. As soon as I explain that I never denied him service, I just wouldn’t let him cut the line or commandeer my cart. The MOD nods and says:

MOD: “Sounds like you did exactly the right thing.”

I later found out the cashier refused to give him my name, and he left… still without buying a churro.

The cherry on top? She shared her tips with me that day and gave me an extra-big cut “for surviving The Churro Man.”

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I work in a watch repair kiosk inside a train station. An older gentleman approaches, holding a clearly cheap, plastic watch. It’s lost its wrist straps so it’s just the watch face by itself.

Customer: “This used to be my brother’s. Keeps stopping. Can you fix it?”

Me: “I can take a look, but sometimes it costs more to fix these than replace them.”

Customer: “No, I don’t want to replace it. I just want it to tick again. It’s sentimental.”

That part’s fair. I nod and open the back. There’s a corroded battery welded into the contacts like it’s fossilized. I show him.

Me: “This battery probably hasn’t been changed in over a decade. It’s leaked into the movement—”

Customer: “—Oh, don’t give me the sales pitch. I’m not stupid. Just put a new battery in.”

Me: “It’s not about the battery. The acid ruined the internals. It’s basically a paperweight now.”

Customer: “You people always say that so we’ll buy a new one. I know how this works. You just want a sale.”

He storms off. A few minutes later, I hear someone trying to jam something into the coin slot of the coffee machine behind me.

It’s the same man.

It’s his watch.

Me: “That machine might give you change, but it won’t change reality.”

He stops, shocked that I’ve been able to poke my head around and see what he’s doing.

Customer: “You’re f****** useless! This watch is f****** useless!” *Kicks the coffee machine.* “This is f****** useless! My brother is f****** useless! Everything is f****** useless!”

He throws the watch to floor, and storms off. I guess he’s going through a bad… time. (Sorry.)