(I am working in the electronics department of a big box store. The newest version of an Apple product has just come out, and we can’t keep them in stock; as soon as we get a few in, they’ll be sold that day or the next. A customer is asking about them, and we are currently out of stock.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re out of them right now, but check back tomorrow; we may get some in on tonight’s truck.”

Customer: “May? You don’t know if some are coming in?”

Me: “No, ma’am, they don’t really tell us what’s on the truck; they just send it.”

Customer: “But how can you not know? Doesn’t someone order them?”

Me: “No, it’s all done by computer. When we sell a certain number of something, the system reorders automatically.”

Customer: “But… so you can’t check if there are any on the truck?”

Me: “I have no way of doing that; I’m sorry.”

Customer: “Okay… Well, then, can you put me on the list?”

Me: “List?”

Customer: “Yeah, the list. Like, I give you my name and number and you call me when they come in.”

Me: “We don’t really do that; it’s basically first-come, first-served.”

Customer: “No, I’m going to give you my name and number.”

(She rips off a piece of receipt paper and starts writing.)

Me: “Ma’am, we don’t have a program like that. We don’t do waiting lists.”

(She slides the paper to me with a smile.)

Customer: “There. Just call me.”

Me: *slides it back to her* “We don’t do that.”

Customer: “But you have my name. I’m going to leave that with you and you just call me.”

Me: “You can leave that paper here, but no one is going to call you. We do not do that here.”

Customer: “Okay… I hope you get some soon.”

(She leaves. I assume she has finally figured it out and is off to another store to try to find one. I think that is the end of it, but a week later, the same lady is back. I have dyed my hair so I guess she doesn’t recognize me. I have just sold the last of a new batch of [items].)

Customer: “Excuse me? Hi, my name is [Customer] and I left my name and number here about a week ago. Y’all were supposed to call me when you got some [items] in. But I saw that guy just bought one! Why didn’t you call me? I want one!”

Me: “That was the last one. And I told you last week we don’t do that here!”

Customer: “Oh, it was you… But I gave you my name and number!”

(I’m a manager at a convenience store. I am alone on shift and have been fairly steady. I am ringing up [Customer #1] when [Customer #2] pushes next to him and shakes money in my face.)

Customer #2: “Here. Put this on pump #2.”

Me: “Sir, I’ll be with you in a moment. I need to finish with this gentleman in front of me.”

Customer #2: “I’m not trying to cut in line. I’m just giving you my money now.”

Me: *ignoring him and speaking to [Customer #1]* “Anything else for you today?”

Customer #1: “I—”

Customer #2: *loudly interrupts* “I don’t see why you just can’t take my money now. I’m here. I’m not cutting in line.”

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry, but if you’re insisting that I take your money before his, then you are, in fact, trying to cut in line. Now, please let me finish with this customer, and then I’ll help you.”

Customer #2: “So, you won’t take my money now?”

Me: “No, sir, not until it’s your turn.”

Customer #2: *suddenly slams his hand down on the counter and starts shouting* “I’m a minister! You will respect me! I deserve your respect! Respect me!”

([Customer #1]’s eyes get big. He mouths, “Sorry,” and then quickly takes his purchases.)

Me: *smiles brightly at [Customer #2]* “What did you need, sir?”

Customer #2: *throws the money on the counter* “Pump #2. You could’ve done that already! I’ll show you respect! I’m a man of God…” *continues to rant as he’s walking out the door*

Customer #3: *who had been watching quietly behind him* “I feel sorry for the people in his church.”

Me: “If he acts like that, me, too.”

(I work in a library. A middle-aged woman approaches the desk.)

Patron: “I was in the computer lab the other day, and I brought a big folding chair. I left it behind. Is it in your lost and found?”

Me: “I can check, but I doubt it would be there. Let me check the lab.”

Patron: *already growing irate* “I already checked in there.”

Me: “Okay, I’ll check our lost and found, but I didn’t see any chairs when I came in.”

Patron: “So that means somebody stole it. Great.”

(She’s so rude that, by this point, I just want to get rid of her. I go to the back room and, sure enough, the only chairs we have are ones that the library owns.)

Me: “I didn’t see it back there.”

Patron: *even more irritated than before* “Okay, so where would it go?”

Me: “I don’t know.”

(Honestly, who brings a CHAIR to a library and forgets to take it home?)

Patron: *demanding* “Who was cleaning that night?”

Me: “I don’t have access to that information.”

(Our cleaning crew is privately contracted, so only library administration has access to their schedule.)

Patron: “So, nobody turned in a chair at all?”

Me: “No.”

Patron: “Well, then, what am I supposed to do?”

Me: “You could check back at the circulation desk up front.”

(Thankfully, she left at that point. I can understand her frustration, but seriously, who brings their own chair to a public library and then assumes it was stolen instead of put in storage by a confused cleaning crew member?)

I’m approaching the registers to buy something. A guy has just walked in the store and has approached the cashiers.

Customer: I’m looking for something that has to do with–

For some reason, he starts lifting his shirt and puts a hand on the waistband of his shorts.

I promptly do a 180 and head back into the aisles. I’ve worked retail before, and I have no intention of staying near a crazy customer when I don’t have to.

Me: Nope! Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope!

I wait a few minutes, out of sight. When I go back up front, the crazy customer is gone. I hesitate. I glance around and stand on my toes, just to make sure.

The cashiers watch me. They gave me reassuring smiles.

Cashier: Don’t worry, he’s gone!

He seems very amused with me. I smile sheepishly.

(My fiancé and I have gone to our local comic shop and gaming store to play in a “Magic: The Gathering” draft tournament. After everyone has signed up and paid, the owner tells us to take a seat at the tables so that he and his employee can pass out the packs of cards. As he’s handing out packs, the shop employee taps a guy on the shoulder and points at the girl sitting next to him.)

Employee: “She’s not playing, so she can’t sit there.” *shrugs* “I’m not saying you’d cheat, but those are the rules so that people aren’t tempted to cheat.”

Guy: “Oh, okay.” *to the girl* “Sorry, baby.”

Girl: “That’s okay. I’m just going to take the car and go grab something to eat, okay?”

(She gets up and starts to leave the shop. The guy watches her go and notices me as she walks past me.)

Guy: *suddenly pointing at me* “Hey! If my girlfriend can’t sit with me, then she can’t sit with him!”

Employee: *without looking up from what he’s doing* “Yes, she can. She’s playing.”

Guy: *scowling* “But you made my girlfriend leave!”

Employee: *rolls his eyes* “I said she’s playing. If you want your girlfriend to sit with you, go pay [Shop Owner] $15 so she can play.”

Guy: *scoffs* “My girlfriend doesn’t want to play Magic.”

Employee: *pointing at me* “Well, she does want to play and has paid her $15, so she can sit right there with her man if she wants to.”

Guy: *grumbling* “It’s not fair.”

Employee: *groans* “Life’s not fair. But she’s paid her money and it wouldn’t be fair for me to make her leave.”

(The guy starts to complain again but a friend of ours, who is sitting next to him, cuts him off.)

Friend: *annoyed* “Oh, my God, shut up! She’s in here with him all the time! She legitimately knows what she’s doing and paid to sit her a** in that chair, so shut the f*** up or do us all a favor and leave!”

(The guy sulked the rest of the evening and even pouted when I came in fourth place.)