A customer is watching a video while waiting for his order. My coworker tries three times to get his attention to ask if he wants it for here or to go, but to no avail.

I walk over to him and tap him on his right shoulder, hoping that he will look up and see that my coworker has been trying to get his attention. Instead, he looks over to the left where I have abruptly stopped after I realize it would be more appropriate for me to ask myself, since I am the one who tapped him.

Me: “Would you like your sandwich for here to go, sir?”

Customer: *Clearly irritated* “To go, please.”

At the counter, as he is paying:

Customer: “I’m curious why you tapped me on my right shoulder and then walked over to my left. Were you trying to play a joke on me?”

Me: “No, sir, I was not. I was only trying to get your attention for [Coworker], and I realized after tapping your shoulder that I should have waited there and asked you myself. Sorry if I scared you.”

Customer: “I’m not scared; I’m irritated at you.”

Me: “Oh. Again, I apologize; I really was only trying to get your attention.”

He then spent the next minute ranting to my coworker that I shouldn’t have played that “joke” on him. At that point, I, too, became extremely irritated but I distracted myself with cleaning to avoid any further contact with him. My coworker simply smiled and told him to have a nice day.

I work in a higher-end department store and am constantly surprised by questions customers ask and how they behave but to this day this interaction takes the cake for me. 

A woman comes in wanting to get some new pillows. She specifically asks for down pillows. I show her the selection and she finds a type she likes the feel of.

Customer: “What is it made out of?”

Me: “It’s 100% down fill with a polyester blend cover.”

She gives me a look like I’m stupid.

Customer: “Well, I know that, but what is it filled with?”

I am a little confused, but I show her the tag on the pillow.

Me: “It’s filled with 100% down.”

Customer: *Exasperated* “But where is the down from?”

I understand what she’s asking now and double-check the tag.

Me: “Oh! I’m not exactly sure which type of bird they are from.”

Customer: “I can’t just buy it without knowing!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, I would be happy to check with my manager, but if they don’t list it on the tag there’s no way to know for sure.”

The customer looks horrified, and then stomps away.

Customer: “Well, I can’t just buy it without knowing! It could be anything! What if it’s from a dog?!” 

I didn’t fully process what she had said before she left but my manager, who was maybe ten feet away, caught it before I did and had to physically turn around so she didn’t laugh in the customer’s face. I got on a second later, blinked from confusion thinking, “Did that really just happen?” and then headed to the back to laugh out loud. 

I had assumed she wanted to know if it was duck or goose, but apparently, no one told her that dogs don’t have feathers.

Some of the customers at our store have the misconception that they can exit or enter through the back door, which leads directly into our parking lot. Since the back of the store contains our work area, the manager’s office and safe, and hundreds of dollars of merchandise waiting to be stocked, and is sometimes cluttered with boxes of donations, we have a strict policy about not letting customers walk through there unless they are making a donation or transporting heavy furniture, in which case we would clear the pathway.

An elderly couple who have been in declining health for the last year have made repeated attempts to use that door, despite our persistent reminders not to do so. 

The husband knocks on the back door, while the wife makes a quick trip to the grocery store next door.

Me: “Hi, sir, the entrance is at the front door. We can’t let customers through here for insurance and safety reasons.”

He happily obliges and uses the front entrance. About ten minutes later, the wife walks in and they spend the next half hour shopping. After making their purchase, they get ready to leave.

The wife tells her husband:

Wife: “Let’s use the back door.”

The husband, who has difficulty speaking due to radiation for throat cancer, lightly tugs his wife’s shirt towards the front door. He strains to reply to his wife.

Husband: “We have to use the front.”

After having a brief, indistinct argument with her husband, the wife begins walking toward the back of the store. At this point, I step in.

Me: “I’m sorry, but we had an incident last week and we cannot allow customers to use the back door. Please use the front door to exit.”

We really did have an incident last week, which prompted me to print a sign near the back of the sales floor noting, “This is not an exit! Please use the front door.” On top of that, we have a lot of boxes in the back. Given their fragile health, letting them use the back would be a bigger risk than usual.

Wife: “You don’t understand; this is a man who belongs in the hospital. Now let us through the back!”

Me: “Ma’am, I understand your situation, but this has been our store’s policy for eighteen years. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but you will need to use the front door.”

At this point, she flipped the middle finger with about half the store watching and, as fast as she could, walked out of the store with her seemingly unfazed husband in tow. We have not seen them in the store since.

I was working as a cashier in a recreation room for kids, the ones with ball pools, jungle gyms, etc., where kids can have some fun while the parents watch over them or leave them there under supervision.

It was a summer job, and I was a junior. I dealt with so many entitled parents who were rude, but one woman stands out.

She was a high-profile celebrity.

There was a really long line and she was in the far back. I was alone on the register — my supervisor left to buy cleaning supplies — and I managed it pretty well, and I made sure to stay polite and helpful. While I was helping a customer out with a coupon she had trouble finding on her phone, said celebrity just passed the whole line with her kids and asked if I could let her kids in and she would pay me when it was her turn.

I told her no, that it was against my orders; I couldn’t let anyone in if their parents hadn’t paid. 

She countered by saying how dare I suggest she might run away and leave her kids without paying, and I said that some people did it, so I was ordered not to let anyone in before they pay. 

She asked it a few more times, and each time I tried to explain it as nice as I could. I told her she was holding back the line and that I needed to resume my job, because the lady with the coupon was trying to pay.

She took out her wallet and handed me a huge bill. “Keep the change, but get my kids in, now.” 

Never thought she could be that entitled. It was the last straw, but I didn’t snap. I calmly said that if she thought she could cut the line and bribe me, she was wrong. As she was staring at me, dumbfounded, I asked her to go to the end of the line and wait for her turn. 

She stayed there for a few minutes in silence before leaving. The lady with the coupon came back as soon as [Celebrity] left and told me she was really impressed and asked for my name. I pointed at my tag, and she smiled and left.

My supervisor came back, said I did good, and told me to take a break. As soon as he got there, [Celebrity] dashed to the front of the line again, asking if he was the manager. He said yes, and she asked to report me. She told him the story, while lying and saying I was rude and that I refused to let her in when it was her turn.

I turned purple. [Supervisor] looked at me and said it didn’t suit me. The guy next in line said that I was nothing but polite to every single customer, and that I was really helpful and efficient. 

[Celebrity] blushed, mumbled, and went back to the end of line. I proceeded to take my break right outside and watched. 

[Celebrity]’s turn finally arrived. She asked for three kids, and [Supervisor] asked for their age. One of them was at the age we don’t allow inside — older than ten, younger than sixteen. They just do a lot of damage and we need an ID for someone to count as adult supervision. So, she was told she couldn’t bring him in.

She yelled that she had waited all this time just to learn this, and so came my moment to shine. I got up and pointed at a sign that said the exact thing, big, red, and eye-catching.

She paid for two kids and left with the other.

[Coupon Lady] called to praise me, and I got a promotion to shift manager.

I’m travelling for business and making a connection in Los Angeles International Airport. I’ve just come off a thirteen-hour flight across the Pacific and I’m exhausted. I collect my bag from the carousel and head on through. They have an area where they check baggage for international arrivals making a connection, which is nice.

Employee: “Place your bag on the belt. Can I see your ticket, please?”

I hand my ticket over and lift my bag onto the belt. He works for a moment, then frowns.

Employee: “I’m sorry, but our printer isn’t working so I can’t print a tag for your bag. Since you’ve already paid, I’ll give you a receipt. You need to go to the service desk and they’ll check your bag.”

Me: “No worries. How do I get there from here?”

The directions he gives me seem solid and I follow them to the best of my ability. I arrive at another desk which is completely deserted, and a bored-looking lady is there to see me. I try to explain the situation to her.

Me: “Hi. I tried to check my bag at the international connection area but they couldn’t print my bag tag and told me to come to the service desk to get my bag checked. They gave me this.” 

I hold out the receipt. [Employee #2] ignores the receipt and looks at my bag.

Employee #2: “You need to go through security.”

Me: “I… can’t. I have things in there which means this bag needs to be checked, not taken as carry-on. I was directed here to get it checked?”

Employee #2: *Suddenly* “What have you got in it?”

I don’t understand why she would want to know.

Me: “Makeup, body wash…”

Employee #2: “They’re going to take it off you.”

We get the attention of another employee who comes over.

Employee #3: “What does she want?”

Employee #2: “She wants to take her makeup through security.”

Me: “No. If you’d just liste—”

Employee #3: “They’re gonna take it off you, honey.”

They’re not listening to me at all, just standing there and repeating over and over that I need to get rid of my stuff. This goes on for a while. I look past the employees to the other side of the room and see body scanners, tubs, and conveyor belts for taking bags through scanners. It looks like security screening is behind this “service desk.”

Me: “I think I’m in the wrong place. Is this the service desk?”

Employee #2: *Still ignoring me* “You need to throw your makeup out.”

Me: “I’m just going to go back.”

I left. When I found the actual service desk, my issue is resolved quickly. I get that I was in the wrong place, but all they needed to say was, “This isn’t the service desk,” or, “We can’t do that here,” and I might have realised a lot sooner and saved us all twenty minutes.