(My mother gave me just enough money to get an ice-cream from the beach kiosk. Plain cones and cups were £1.50, waffle cones were £2.10.)

Me: “Can I have one scoop of mint-chocolate chip in a plain cone please.”

Sales Girl: *placing a filled waffle cone on top of the counter* “That’s £2.10.”

Me: “Um, no, I asked for a plain cone.”

Sales Girl: “We’ve run out of plain cones. We’ve only got waffle left. That’s £2.10.”

Me: “You didn’t tell me that. I’ve only got £1.50.”

Sales Girl: *shouting* “Well, I’m not going to waste this cone! Come on, £2.10, now!”

Me: *near tears* “I haven’t got it!”

(The girl scraped the ice cream out of the cone into a paper cup, then hurled the waffle cone into the bin.)

Sales Girl: *grabbing my money* “Take that, and don’t ever come here trying to cheat me again! You kids, trying to get a free waffle cone! Push off!”

(I work at a sno-cone stand for my uncle, and as it is usually very hot, my stand almost always has a line. Customer #1 is sitting at a picnic table off to the side, not in line.)

Customer #1: “Excuse me, can I get a water?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, in just a moment, after I help this girl with her cone.”

Customer #1: “I don’t care! I’m thirsty and it’s hot. Do you want me to become dehydrated and die?!”

Me: *getting sick of people not waiting in line and expecting service* “Frankly, sir, I don’t care. There is a line, that you can see is quite long, and you are currently at the end of it.”

Customer #1: “WOW! I should tell your boss about how terrible your service is. You’re being a b***!”

Customer #2: *a regular* “Go ahead, dude. It doesn’t matter; that’s her uncle.”

(I help man several booths in downtown Anchorage during the summer that sell various jewelry, wood carvings, and ulu knives, all handmade by native Alaskans. Today I’m with one of the jewelry makers who is explaining the history behind each stone she uses while demonstrating how she crafts each piece.)

Customer: “So all of this is made by you? Made by a native Alaskan?”

Jewelry Lady: “Yep, every one.”

Customer: “So you’re, like, an actual Eskimo?”

Jewelry Lady: *laughs* “I’m Inupiat actually but otherwise yes, I’m as native as you can get around here.”

(The customer cocks his head as if confused.)

Customer: “Man, you talk really eloquently for a druggie! I mean aren’t you all supposed to be stoned out of your heads all the time?”

(I stare at the man incredulously. My jewelry lady gets a very smug smile on her face.)

Jewelry Lady: “Oh, give me time. The idea sounds better and better with every customer I get like yourself.”

(I work in a small coffee kiosk located in a shopping mall. A customer comes up, and the transaction is fairly normal right up until the end.)

Customer: “This coffee is so hot! Could you please get me some ice to cool it down?”

Me: “Of course!”

(I proceed to grab a paper cup and put a reasonable amount of ice in it, which I then hand to the customer.)

Customer: “Oh, this isn’t enough! Can I have more?”

Me: “Sure, sorry about that!” *I do exactly as she asks*

Customer: “Now this is just too much ice. Can you pour a little out?”

Me: “Uh-huh.”

(I’m a little annoyed, but do my best to be as polite as possible as I pour a little bit of ice out.)

Customer: “That’s still too much ice! I really wish I could just do this myself…”

(The customer then proceeds to pour about half of the ice into her hand, and then holds out her hand full of ice, clearly expecting me to do the same.)

Me: “Uh….”

(I grab a nearby cup for her to pour it in. She ignores this, dumps the ice on the credit card reader and containers of sugar packets, and walks away happily as can be with her coffee filled with what she apparently considered to be the perfect amount of ice.)

(I work at an engraving kiosk in a mall. Most of our products are engraved and not returnable.)

Customer: “What’s your return policy?”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not completely sure, but it’s stated on this sign right here.” *points to sign right in front of her*

Customer: “You don’t know your return policy? Do you even work here?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I assure you I work here.”

Customer: “What does this mean, that engraved items can’t be returned? Why?”

Me: “…Once an item has been engraved with something like, ‘Love, Jim,’ it’s highly unlikely that anyone else would want that particular message.”

Customer: “Oh. I’ll buy this clock.”

Me: “Would you like anything engraved in it?”

Customer: “No.”

(Half an hour later, she was back to return the clock. I figure a. she was lonely and needed an object to accompany her through the mall, and b. she had a burning desire to test our return policy!)