I work in a HIGHLY seasonal job in the northeastern US. It’s a pool store. Our swim season is May to September, with some outliers for having heaters, indoor pools, and hot tubs. By November, the store closes at 6:00 pm and I’m usually locking the doors at 6:02 pm.

On this particular night, I have to do a deposit, which requires two extra minutes of paperwork. So, at 6:04, I’m dotting the I in my final signature when I hear someone aggressively pull on the door. I look up and shrug and point to my imaginary watch. Too bad, buddy, right? Wrong. He tugs again. I go and unlock the door and crack it open just enough to converse.

Me: “Hey! I’m really sorry, but we’re closed for the night. I’ve got everything shut down already.”

Customer: “I got here as soon as I could. Can’t you help me?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but the registers are shut down. I can’t start them again until tomorrow.”

Customer: “I just drove for over an hour to get here. It’s not even five minutes past close; you should still be open.”

Me: “Sir, I have plans tonight. My last customer came in three hours ago. If you call to say you’re on your way but might be late, I’ll happily stay for you, but I won’t sit here all night for no reason. Just call ahead next time.”

The next week, I got four calls from him with traffic updates. He made it in around 5:45 and spent thirty minutes nitpicking and attempting to barter corporate-set prices.

During my last couple of years of high school, and throughout college, I work summers at my uncle’s (my Mom’s brother’s) restaurant. I am nineteen at the time, and this is my third summer working there. We have a party of eleven people coming in on a late Saturday afternoon. The “lead” person at the table is a guy who is in his early forties or so, and the rest are apparently all related in one way or another. All of them are adults, the youngest maybe in their early twenties.

I’m a very good waitress. My uncle trusts me implicitly and he understands that I know what I am doing. My uncle hates chronic complainers and charlatans that look for any excuse to get a comped or partially-comped meal.

Most people at the table don’t really complain directly themselves, but they certainly support this guy in his complaints by nodding in agreement or saying things like, “Yeah, that’s right!” whenever he complains about something.

Right from the get-go, he complains about anything and everything. I am too slow getting them their menus, even though I bring them over within thirty seconds of sitting them. Silverware settings are missing, either a knife, fork, or spoon. I know they are missing because he’s the one who removed them. I saw him take a spoon, fork, or knife away from each setting and toss them into a nearby tray that we used to put dirty plates when clearing the tables.

The steak he ordered well-done is too well-done, and the replacement is not well-done enough even though it does not have a shred of pink in the center. The waters aren’t filled promptly enough, his dessert is far too sweet, and his decaf coffee has caffeine in it because “I can see it in there!”

This goes on and on and on throughout the whole meal, which takes them over three hours to eat. Apparently, their food sucks, and our service is horrible. I wait on the whole table myself by taking each of their orders, but two other staffers help bring out their food, get drink refills, etc. Positively NOTHING they complain about is legitimate in any way whatsoever.

My uncle is kept informed, and he speaks to them numerous times to codify them to virtually no avail; the complaints continue. My uncle takes me aside at one point and tells me that this jerk is just trying to get their whole check comped, which he is not going to do. Other customers have even asked me what’s going on because they’ve seen nothing worth complaining about, but they’ve certainly seen what an entitled jerk this guy is being.

Their final bill is nearly $900, mostly steaks, seafood, and shellfish, all our more expensive menus items. Given their rudeness to him and particularly to me, my uncle absolutely refuses to give in to any of their demands. He even tells them that we’ve made every effort to appease them only to be met with rude, selfish behavior over things that are clearly a non-issue. He outright tells them he is not comping anything on their bill.

Finally, they leave and pay the bill in full. As he writes on the check “to make a point,” the guy leaves only a 5% tip because of my “horrid, inattentive” service. He doesn’t want to leave no tip, as he doesn’t want me to think he just forgot, but he wants to be certain I know “exactly why” I am not getting my full tip.

However, he didn’t notice that for parties of six or more, we add a mandatory 18% tip, and for parties of ten or more, 20%, which is what was added to his bill. So, I actually end up with a 25% tip! Not bad for serving a table full of self-absorbed a**holes!

This guy leaves us a scathing review online. My uncle responds by posting point-by-point every rude thing he said and his contemptible behavior and pointing out that his food and service had been exemplary. If any doubt his word, just check his other reviews. “Oh, and by the way, I have security footage to prove all of this!”

To their credit, several customers who were there that night and had witnessed what this jerk said and did left wonderful reviews for us and even mentioned my uncle and me specifically. Most of them called out the rude behavior of this guy and his family.  

My uncle told me that if they ever returned, he was going to refuse them service. As far as I know, they never came back, at least not during the two subsequent years I worked for my uncle. I love my uncle, but I’m so glad to now be out of the service job environment and into an office setting!

My hometown has large fairgrounds that include eighteenth- and nineteenth-century buildings to form a small village museum — a meeting house, a one-room schoolhouse, a blacksmith shop, houses, barns, etc.

My mom and I are at one of their Yuletide events, which includes live animals in a small paddock that you can pet. There are about five or six animals, and we’re loving the cute goats. My mom notices one of the animals stands out from the rest, being fluffier. She decides to ask the farmer about the animal.

Mom: “These goats are all so cute! But why is that goat fluffier than the others?”

The farmer gives her an odd look, glances at the animal in question, and replies:

Farmer: “Ma’am…  that’s a sheep.”

I work for a municipality. I used to work full-time for [Department #1] for several years, but in the past year and a half, I switched to half of my time in [Department #1] and half of my time in [Department #2]. They needed the help after firing someone right before the health crisis closed everything down and a hiring freeze was put in effect.

There have been a few rifts between the two departments when I have worked in one department and done a small task for the other department, so now I’m trying to keep hard lines between the two.

On this day, Friday, I am in [Department #2] and am currently helping a customer of my own. The door opens and another resident barges in.

Resident: “Where do I pay my bill?”

Me: “You pay your bill across the hall in [Department #1].”

Resident: “She’s on the phone. Is there anyone else in there?”

Me: “I believe she is alone today.”

Resident: “I need to pay my bill! Can you help me?”

Me: “I’m with someone right now. I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait until she is off the phone.”

Resident: “Hrmph!”

She slams the door shut and stomps across the hall. About a minute later, she bursts through the door.

Resident: “Can someone else help me? She’s still on the phone!”

Me: “I’m sorry, she’s by herself, and I’m with someone right now. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to wait until she gets off the phone.”

Resident: “Can’t she just put them on hold? She has a customer waiting! Customers in person should be priority!”

Me: “It sounds like she was on the phone before you walked in. I’m sure she’ll help you as soon as she finishes with the phone call.”

Resident: “But I have a very important phone call to make! I can’t wait for her all day!”

Me: “I understand, but she’s on the phone. She shouldn’t be too long.”

Resident: “Gah!”

She slams the door shut and stomps off again.

I’ve finally finished with my customer. The resident comes barging in again.

Resident: “She’s not even looking at me!”

Me: “Maybe she doesn’t see you? There’s a glare on the window, and if she’s on the phone, she’s probably concentrating on helping the person on the other end of the line.”

Resident: “I don’t understand why she can’t call them back later! I have a very important phone call to make! I can’t stand around!”

Me: “You’re welcome to put the payment through the window or in the drop box.”

Resident: “No! I want a stamped receipt!”

Me: “Okay, then you’re going to have to wait.”

Resident: “I have to make a phone call!”

Me: “The bill isn’t due until Monday. Can you come back then? We are open [hours].”

Resident: “Monday? Fine.” 

She storms out of the building.

My manager emerges from her office at this point.

Manager: “Wow. How rude! Expecting her to put the other customer on hold?”

Me: “I know. I almost expected a ‘Do you know who I am?’ response.”

Manager: “I was going to tell you that you could go help since she was on the phone, but since she was so rude, I was glad you stood your ground.”

I do try to be nice and help people when I can, even if it’s not one of my duties, but I won’t go out of my way if you’re rude.

Related:
My, Aren’t We Feeling Entitled Today?, Part 6
My, Aren’t We Feeling Entitled Today?, Part 5
My, Aren’t We Feeling Entitled Today?, Part 4
My, Aren’t We Feeling Entitled Today?, Part 3
My, Aren’t We Feeling Entitled Today?, Part 2

I was working at a burger place around 1984 in the drive-thru. The weather was dry and not too cold. It was after 10:00 pm, so the dining room was closed. A bus arrived.

Normally, a bus coming is good news. It keeps us busy for a while, making the time pass quicker. In this case, with the closed dining room, it was different. The manager was troubled, but she couldn’t reopen the dining room. The bus wouldn’t fit in our drive-thru, so the people got out, lined up, and walked through. The manager helped them with their orders, and I did my normal thing of collecting payment and handing out food.

Then, the guy with the gun came. He wasn’t going to wait for forty or so people to get through the line, so he drove in past them. While his food was being made and I did my thing, none of us being paid enough to deal with the gun, the manager called the state police, who had a barracks across the street.

They nailed him as he left. Turned out it was a BB gun, but still.

Related:
Gun Controlling The Situation, Part 2
Gun Controlling The Situation