At the store I was working at, we had the boss’s Spotify playlist on as background music. At one point, a song came on and a couple of teenage boys start talking about it. 

Boy #1: “Hey, my mum listens to this song. It’s… someone or other Armstrong.”

Boy #2: “Neil?”

Boy #1: “Isn’t he an astronaut or something?”

Boy #2: “It could be the same guy. How many people do you know named Armstrong?”

Me: “It’s actually Louis Armstrong.” 

Boy #2: “Must be his brother or something.”

This story dates back to when espresso was a bit of a novelty outside the trendy city cafés. Our café was helping bring espresso to the suburbs.

A guy came in every morning and ordered a cappuccino. At least, that’s what I thought he said, but there was a tiny thought that maybe he actually was saying, “A cup of chino”. It bugged me every time he said it.

I found out the truth the day he came in with a friend:

Customer: “Two cups of chino, please!”

Related:
A Whole Lotta Latte

I am a receptionist/guest experience manager in a high-class hotel. Unfortunately, this means I deal with a lot of wealthy, entitled guests who don’t understand that I’m not God or exactly how big Australia really is.

I’m helping an older American couple plan their sightseeing trips.

Man: “We’re really excited to see the reef.”

Me: “The reef? Oh, you mean the Great Barrier Reef? Are you heading to Queensland after here?”

Man: “No, we just figured we’d do a day trip. Drive up, have lunch, maybe swim a little, and drive back.”

Me: “I’m sorry, a day trip? The reef is in Queensland. It’s not possible to drive there and back in one day. Even flying, it would be difficult to do.”

Woman: “We already looked at the map and know it’s only a couple of hours’ drive away. You just want us to spend more money.”

I pull up Google Maps, type in the closest town to the start of the reef, and set it from our current location.

Me: “As you can see here, it’s at least a twenty-four-hour non-stop drive to the start, and over forty hours to the end. If you like, we can work out adding it into your trip?”

They did not drive down for their “day trip”.

I am waiting to be served at the service desk of a major supermarket in a suburb known for drug problems, crime, and s***ty people in general. This store only has a handful of trolleys, and today, there are none in the bays. The cashier is a young woman of eighteen or nineteen.

The cashier has just started to serve me when I’m pushed out of the way.

Customer: “Why aren’t there any trolleys?”

Cashier: “Ma’am, please don’t touch other customers, and wait your turn.“

Customer: *Now yelling* “F*** THE OTHER CUSTOMERS! WHY ARE THERE NO TROLLEYS?“

Cashier: “Customers are using them?“

Customer: “THIS IS F****** RIDICULOUS! WHY ARE THERE NO TROLLEYS?”

I’ve had a long day at work and just want to do my return and go home, so I step in.

Me: “Because some idiots take them away from the shop and don’t return them.”

Customer: *Turning to me* “WHO THE F*** ASKED YOU?”

Me: “Well, considering you literally pushed your way into my conversation and are harassing a poor worker who has no control over how many trolleys there are, you did. Now, shut the f*** and use a basket like anyone with half a brain. Just f*** off and let the five actual customers here get served, or the security guard there can call the cops and I’ll press charges for assault. Take your pick.

Customer: “F*** YOU, YOU FAT—”

Me: *To the approaching security guard* “Please call the cops. This woman just… Oh, look at that; she ran away.”

One time, I was flying out of Melbourne’s international airport, and at the security check, they had both the metal detector scanner (doorway) and full-body scanners. As someone with two hip replacements — that is, big chunks of metal inside my body — I know that the full-body scanners are the preferred option. When I got to the airport person pointing out which security point to go to, I said I needed the full body scanner as I’ve got hip replacements. I was maliciously (or so it seems) sent to the metal detector instead, despite my protests.

As you can imagine, the detector went off, and I was sent back to take off “more” three times! (I had already removed anything metallic except my wedding ring.) Eventually, they listened and got someone with the wand to come and check me over and pat me down.

After I finally got through, the supervisor confronted me.

Supervisor: “You should’ve gone through the full-body scanner!”

Me: “I tried to insist on that, but your person sent me over to the other scanner.”

I pointed to the staff member.

Supervisor: “Oh, we have no control over them or what training they undergo.”

It wasn’t a huge problem, as “be there three hours before” means there’s always too much time anyway, so it was a frustrating waste of time for security and the people behind me, but it helped pass the time.

I learned my lesson and after that made up an A4 sign to hold up saying I had the hip replacements and to get the wand before going through the first time. Some even paid attention. (NAR readers will be familiar with how well people read signs!)