My awesome manager is leaving, and it’s his last week. We are chatting about it when a customer asks about a product. My manager checks the system.

Manager: “It looks like that’s out of stock, I’m afraid, but we can order it in—”

Customer: “Check the back.”

Manager: “Well, we don’t really have much back there that—”

Customer: “Check the back! I want you to check!”

Me: *To my manager* “It’s okay, I will have a quick look.”

I do this to appease the customer, as we both know she won’t back down otherwise. I make a quick visual scan of the room and come back out to inform the customer that we don’t have it.

Customer: “You were too quick! You possibly couldn’t have checked the entire back!”

I open the door to “the back.”

Me: “Ma’am, that is the entirety of our ‘back’. It’s twenty square feet. All stock we receive goes straight to the shelves.”

And then this woman, who doesn’t work here, suggests something to me, who has worked here for over two years.

Customer: “Are you sure it doesn’t go around the corner?”

Manager: “Ma’am, it’s not the warehouse from Indiana Jones! Your size six Crocs are not hiding behind the ark of the covenant! Now, either let us order it in for you or leave!” 

She left, and I was reminded once again how much I am going to miss that manager.

I have already put in my two-week notice, and it’s my last night working. It’s 8:50 pm, and we close at 9:00. There is a phone call.

Me: “Thanks for calling [Technology Company]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “Hi. I just bought one of your netbooks and I have a problem with it.”

Me: “What is the problem, ma’am?”

Caller: “It won’t open.”

Me: “You mean, it won’t turn on?”

Caller: “No, it won’t open.”

I realize the customer does not know how to open a netbook. I proceed to tell her in the simplest way how to do so.

Me: “Take both your hands, put them between the little crack in the middle of the laptop, and pull your hands away from each other.”

Caller: “I know how to open a laptop; I am not stupid. Is there a button or something I need to press? There seems to be a big large bar in the front of the laptop; do I have to press it?”

I now understand that the “big large bar” is a battery.

Me: “That is the battery, ma’am. Please turn your laptop around and do what I told you before.”

Caller: “Oh wow, now it is open. Thank you. Now how do I turn it on?”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but we are closed now. Come back tomorrow.”

So sue me, but I had had enough. I’m so happy I left that job.

I used to be a shift leader in a pizza place. We had this regular who was very rude. The first time I helped him, he ignored me when I read his order back to him, so he didn’t know that there was one part of his order I didn’t hear. When it came time for him to collect his pizzas, he gave me an earful about how bad I was at my job to screw that up, and how he wasn’t going to tip as a result. Most people didn’t tip, so that didn’t bother me half as much as he thought it did.

Fast forward three years. It’s my last day. This guy has come in on a regular basis. He calls me “girly” even though I’m a fully grown middle-aged woman, and he is just generally rude and condescending. Today is no exception. 

As I’m finishing taking his order, he makes a remark about how I’d “better get everything right, or no tip”. Normally, I’d just say, “Yes, sir,” and continue on my way. But it is my last day. So, I stop and look him straight in the eyes.

Me: “[Customer], I don’t give a s*** about the tip.”

He is taken aback for a moment by my language because I never, ever swear in front of customers.

Customer: “Sure, you do! You people all care about that!”

Me: “No, I don’t. If that was all I cared about, I’d be disappointed, because only maybe one in four customers actually tips. If how hard I worked depended on that, I’d never work hard. It’s my last day, so I’m being honest with you: I’d rather have a nice customer who thanks me but doesn’t leave a tip than have one like you who is rude but tips if we’re perfect. I usually don’t keep any tips you give me anyway, so you can keep your money. I just want to know that your pizzas are hot, fresh, accurate, and beautifully made. Oh, and stop calling me ‘girly’; I’m a fully grown woman, thank you, not a girl. Your order will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

He was stunned into silence, surprisingly, and didn’t speak to me again until I called out his name and showed him his pizzas. He was very humble and thanked me as he handed me a ten-dollar bill, the most he’d ever given me.

I’ve heard that, since then, he no longer berates the cashiers, he has stopped calling the employees “girlies”, and he is generally one of our best-behaved customers. I’d like to think it’s because I got brave on my last day and told him some hard truths. I just wish I’d done it sooner.

Related:
Warning: Do Not Give Retail Workers Your Attitude When It’s Their Last Day

This is one of those “last day” stories where I can say something without real consequences for my job. I’ve had some remarkably well-behaved customers all day, so I think I might be able to get away without needing to say something.

And then, she turns up.

Customer: “I want a six-top by the window, and don’t tell me you can’t do it because I used to be a waitress and I know that you can.”

Wow, straight away, she’s looking for a fight. However, the table she wants is actually available, albeit having just been cleaned so there are no glasses or menus set up yet. I get her group seated there with no issues.

Customer: “You know, hun, it’s bad form of you not to give us waters when we sit.”

Me: “I was just about to get those for you, along with some menus.”

I get the menus and a large jug of water and place them in the middle of the table. As soon as I am about to leave to get the glasses, the woman says to me:

Customer: *Condescending* “You know, hun, I’ll be needing a glass for that water.”

Me: “Oh, man! And here I was hoping you’d be absorbing it via osmosis.”

Customer: *Now angry* “What did you say to me?!”

Me: “Whatever I want, ma’am. You know, hun, I have been a waitress here for over ten years, and today is my last day. Do you want to test me?”

The customer stared me straight in the eyes and saw that I was not offering her a fight she could win today. She sat there and ate her meal in aggravated silence.

I used to be a barista at a popular coffee chain. We had a woman who would come in every morning and order, I kid you not, a double-tall vanilla latte with three-eighths of a pump of vanilla. Not half of a pump. Three-eighths of a pump. She even made one of the baristas mark our bottle pump with a Sharpie. This lady was universally disliked by employees and customers alike.

Every single day, the first cup we would make for this woman, no matter who made it, was always wrong; it was either too sweet or not sweet enough. So, after a while, I began to just pretend to make another drink. I’d pull the steam wand and wave my hands about like a fool behind the machine. I would hand her back the same drink we made her the first time, and it was ALWAYS perfect the second time, even though it was the same drink.

On my last day of work, this woman decided to come in twice that day. She was being overly obnoxious and talking on her cell phone about “deals” and “her assistant” and essentially just announcing her importance to everyone in the room.

It was 3:00 in the afternoon, in the spring, and the place was filled with teenagers ordering frappuccinos. I had both blenders going and both steam wands going when this woman decided to yell at me.

Customer: “GOD, I CAN BARELY HEAR MYSELF THINK!”

Me: “Funny, I can still hear you complaining.”

If you knew me, you’d know I had the perfect facial expressions to go with it; I looked like a snarky little s***. I told her that I’d been handing her back the same drink every morning for over a year, too. I said, verbatim:

Me: “It’s kind of embarrassing now that you know, right? Three-eighths is half a pump for all intents and purposes here, ma’am.”

She LOST IT.

She demanded that my manager fire me on the spot or she’d call corporate and we’d lose her business, blah, blah, blah.

I HATED my manager. He was the opposite of a “spirit of the rules/law” kind of person and really enjoyed making our lives more difficult than they needed to be. I knew that firing me would actually reflect quite negatively on his quarterly reviews, and I knew he wouldn’t do it.

My manager came out to talk to the woman.

Manager: “Ma’am, it’s [My Name]’s last day. The best I can do is send her home early, which would be a reward rather than a punishment since we’re so busy.”

I think my manager also offered her a gift card, but she was still upset. She proceeded to spend the next two hours on hold with corporate outside. Then, when corporate either accidentally hung up on her or told her to shove it, she threw her glasses, called me a “little b****” in front of a ton of kids, and ran to her car.