(I work as a barista. One day, a woman I’ve never seen before enters the café.)

Me: “Hi. What can I get for you?”

Customer: “I’d like to try some of your coffee.”

Me: “Sure, will that be a drip coffee, or–“

Customer: “I want coffee, but I don’t want to buy it. I just want a sample.”

Me: “If you’d just like a taste, I can give you a sample of our drip coffee in our two-ounce cup.”

(I hold up the cup so the customer can see.)

Customer: “No, I want a sample but in that size cup!” *points to our regular-size paper cups*

Me: “I’m sorry, but we only do free samples in the two-ounce cups. Did you still want the sample?”

(The customer huffs and puffs but finally agrees, and I pour the sample for her. She takes the cup and then makes her way to the self-serve area where the cream and sugar are kept. I watch with curiosity — which soon turns into dumbfoundedness — as this woman takes a sip of her tiny sample of coffee to make room, and then pours half-and-half into it, then another sip, and then pouring some more half-and-half, etc. After drinking her coffee in this fashion for at least twenty repetitions of sipping and diluting her sample, she marches back to the register, face flushed with anger.)

Customer: *slamming the cup down on the counter* “I demand you remake me a free cup of coffee! This one was disgusting!”

Me: “That can happen when you pour twenty creamers into a two-ounce cup of coffee.”

Customer: *storms out, shouting profanities*

I’m at a bus stop with several other people waiting for a bus that’s a couple of minutes late. Our bus tickets cost $1.25, and we can pay by a variety of passes, student cards, or cash. Cash is the most troublesome due to coin rejections and dollar bills having to be smooth enough to actually go in the machine’s pay slot.

One of the waiting women keeps looking down the road impatiently, sighing, glaring around, and muttering about the bus being late, etc.

After a few more minutes of waiting, the bus finally arrives. The impatient woman makes sure she gets on first, with me and a line of other passengers behind her waiting to board. 

Then, only after getting on, the impatient woman proceeds to pull out a super-extra crumpled-up dollar bill from somewhere on her person and to slowly and carefully uncrumple and straighten it out so she can put it in the machine. 

I, and all the people in line behind me, stare at her in disbelief while we’re all forced to wait to get on. It takes her at minimum three minutes to uncrumple that miserable dollar bill and manage to successfully put it in the machine, along with her multiple coins. She won’t move aside to let anyone else board the bus while she is doing this.

Unsurprisingly, the bus is significantly late to all our destinations.

(My daughter, around three or four years old, is acting increasingly lethargic, so I take her to urgent care. As always, there is a long wait and she steadily gets more and more bored and restless until the doctor finally comes in. The doctor looks at her and then at me.)

Doctor: “Okay, what brings you here tonight?”

Me: “My daughter has become really lethargic.”

(My daughter can’t sit still anymore and gets up.)

Doctor: “Hi, honey. Can you jump around a little for me?”

(My daughter goes wild, pogo-ing around the room.)

Me: “She wasn’t like this at home! I am so sorry I’ve wasted your time.”

Doctor: “Eh, that’s okay. To be honest, I’m a pediatric specialist. I’m just working here to make a little extra money. Most of my patients die. It’s really nice for me to see a healthy kid.”  

(We shook hands and he walked out. This was almost 20 years ago, and I’ve never forgotten how quickly my embarrassment was replaced with sadness.)

(This story was told to me by my coworker. I witness the interaction happening but don’t understand what is going on at the time. A customer purchases two light bulbs at a discount and comes back the next day to return them.)

Coworker: “You’ll have $14.50 credited back to your card.”

Customer: “No, the bulbs cost $10 each; it should be $20.”

Coworker: “Yes, but it shows here on your receipt that you were given a discount.”

Customer: “Yes, but the bulbs cost $10, so I should get $20 back.”

Coworker: “You only paid $14.50 for the bulbs.”

Customer: “Yes, but they cost $10.”

Coworker: “I can’t give you back $20 for something you paid $14.50 for.”

Customer: “Why not?”

(I have just started working at a store that sits right in the middle of the higher- and working-class population, so a mix of different people will come and shop. Within my first week, on a slow day, I’m chatting with two of my coworkers as a customer with a semi-noticeable limp enters through the elevators.)

Coworker #1: “Ugh, she’s back.”

Coworker #2: “Hey, [My Name], when she’s ready, can you check her out?”

Me: “Okay, why?”

Coworker #2: “Well, she has a bit of an attitude, and you’re new. Have to graduate somehow, right?”

Me: *rolls eyes* “Haha. But sure, all right.”

(Eventually, she comes up to my register. She smiles and acknowledges that I’m new, since she doesn’t recognize my face. She’s wearing a veteran cap, which I point out and ask about, as my cousin is a veteran, too. We end up chatting for a bit while I ring her out. She pays with an EBT card for her groceries and goes off on her way to the elevators once again. She was perfectly polite, and I am left confused over the warning I had received about her from my coworkers until they both approach me again.)

Coworker #1: “Wow. How did you do that?”

Me: “Do what?” *starting to think I was lucky for catching the customer while she was in a good mood*

Coworker #1: “Keep a straight face?”

Me: *more confused* “Over what?”

Coworker #1: “Come on, you know.”

(She then starts to imitate an exaggerated limp, mocking the customer. My second coworker laughs. I’m left speechless.)

Coworker #2: “I’m more surprised that you were able to keep it together when she flashed her EBT card. She always does it so casually, too! It’s so shameless.”

(By now, my confusion has manifested into anger.)

Me: “Why does it matter how she pays for her food?”

Coworker #2: “Well, I mean, it’s not just that. It’s just the shamelessness. I try to act casual, too, but then she always gets attitude and all mad about it. Like, dude, at least I’m trying!”

Coworker #1: “She always takes the elevator, too. Like, at least try to look active.”

(Now my anger is BOILING.)

Me: “Are you kidding me? She’s clearly a veteran!”

(Both give me a blank stare.)

Coworker #1: “So?”

Coworker #2: “Yeah, wasn’t that her choice, anyway?”

(I gave up and walked away at this point as I was literally shaking with rage. We never got along after that, but I got along with my other coworkers just fine — most of whom also had issues with how ignorant and conceited the other two usually acted — and I was always happy to see my regular who, by the way, never gave “attitude” towards anyone else BUT the two coworkers, solely because they gave it to her first. Eventually, one quit and the other was let go, the latter due to her behavior towards customers. None of us were shocked.)