I locked myself out of the house before work one evening, so the next morning I had to call the letting agency to get the spare keys to let myself in. They said I could have the spares, but I’d have to collect them from the office myself, and bring them back the same day.

It was 9:30 in the morning. I’d been out of the house since 5:00 pm, and in that time I’d walked two miles to the train station to catch the train to work, worked an 11-hour shift in a supermarket, and then done the same journey in reverse. The letting agency is a 2.5-mile walk from my house, and I’d have to make the journey four times in total. It was just a few days before payday, and I didn’t have enough in my bank to be able to withdraw any cash for bus fare. I’d had to get my office to buy my train tickets for me just to get to work, and borrowed money from my mum to feed myself.

My neighbour came into her garden while I was on the phone, to see why her dogs were going frantic at the back door. She was sympathetic, having managed to lock herself out of her house before, and didn’t like the idea of me having to do all that walking when I was already so tired. She told me to wait a few seconds before heading off, and went back inside. She came out with the contents of her change tin, which was more than enough to get an all-day bus ticket. She also offered to keep a hold of my backpack, containing a heavy pair of work boots among other things, until I got back.

Thanks to my neighbour, I managed to get to and from the letting agency safely. When I tried to give her the leftover change back, she refused it and told me to use it to start refilling my own change tin.

(I am quietly working in my office, which is behind the reception desk, when a guest suddenly barges inside and stands next to my chair in a threatening manner. We have a reception desk, and it is not normal or appropriate behaviour for guests to come behind the desk.)

Guest: *yelling* “I still have to give you money!”

Me: “You already paid your tour operator. According to me, you do not have an open bill.”

Guest: *yelling louder* “Yes, I do. I still have to pay something!”

Me: “So what is it you need to pay?”

Guest: *somehow even louder* “That is up to you to tell me!”

Me: “Sir, this is not some kind of guessing game. Please first leave my office and come to the reception desk to explain what you think you owe us.”

(He walks over to the front of the reception desk swearing, but he has calmed down a bit.)

Guest: “I had a beverage.”

Me: “I was in the bar all night last night, and cannot recall seeing you there. I do not have a bar bill from your room. Do you mean you took something out of the fridge in the lobby and forgot to write it on the list?”

Guest: *aggressively* “Yes, that’s what I keep on telling you!”

Me: “But there are no unaccounted bottles out of that fridge. Could you tell me what you took?”

Guest: *going ballistic* “That is up to you to tell me!”

(I just looked at him, stunned. Without looking at me, he threw a two Euro coin in the general direction of the desk, and marched off, ranting and swearing.)

(I teach in a low-income area, where lots of people live around a small school designed to care for the children of working families. We make sure the kids have all their needs met and recommend extra help if we think the kids need it. We have a very important rule, though: nothing is free. We charge very little for everything, but the idea was to avoid people thinking of it as charity.)

Me: “[Student’s Mother], we have assessed that [Nephew that lives with her] and [Son] will both need urgent speech therapy. Now, we went ahead and got a fantastic therapist who is willing to come here and do it for 2000 colones each kid per week.”

(That equals about four dollars.)

Mother: “Oh, no! Can’t she do it for free? Remember, [Nephew] was born with hydrocephalus; he is special needs.”

Me: “Yes, this is exactly why we got this fantastic therapist. But this community is too far away; we need to, at least, pay for her gas money.”

Mother: “This makes me so sad… I guess we won’t be able to get them the help they need.”

(Then, she proceeded to place her newest iPhone on the table as she picked up and left. At the end, the kids did get the help they needed, but I had to actually sit with her and go through her finances so she could see where she could cut back in order to pay for therapy.)

(I have left the front counter with a coworker to deal with paperwork in the office. My coworker comes back to the office.)

Coworker: “Um… A customer came in and ordered a shake, and left his money on the counter.”

(Going up front, I find a Canadian bill on the counter.)

Customer: *returning from the bathroom* “Where’s my shake?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t accept Canadian currency.”

Customer: “So, what are you going to give me, since you won’t accept my money?”

Me: “Water.”

(We give the customer a cup for water and he walks out in a huff.)

Coworker: *to me* “He was trying to get something.”

Me: “We’re kind of far from the border; does he not realized he’s crossed it?”

(It’s Sunday, and I’m an hour into a seven-and-a-half-hour register shift. I’ll note that it’s ten am and our customer service counter opened at eight, like every other day, and also, that since it’s Sunday, the bank in the store isn’t open.)

Customer: *holding out a hundred dollar bill* “Yeah, I’ll take a fifty, a twenty—”

(At this point I understand he wants change. I’m not allowed to open my drawer for anyone unless they’re making a purchase and I’m giving change, or if an employee of the cash office needs to take money from my drawer.)

Me: *being polite and smiling* “Sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t make change for you. Customer service can, though!” *gestures to the customer service counter up front*

Customer: *looking irritated* “I already went up there! She said she didn’t have enough money and to go to the bank, but they’re not open yet!”

(Obviously, he hasn’t realized yet it’s Sunday and most banks aren’t open, and my coworker obviously was on autopilot. I decide rather than make him more irate and tell him that it’s Sunday and the bank won’t open, I try to explain politely.)

Me: “Sir, I’m not allowed to open my drawer unless I’m giving back change on a purchase.”

Customer: *basically shaking his hundred dollar bill at me* “But I know you have a fifty in there; I saw it!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but my managers have told me I’m not allowed to open my drawer unless I’m giving back change on a purchase. If you buy something and pay with the hundred, I can give you change.”

(I’ll also note our store is big on giving the best customer service we can.)

Customer: *giving me a wide-eyed, frankly kind of scary look* “Is that the kind of customer service you want to be giving?”

Me: *in my head* “Sir, I’d like to help you, but I’m not going to break rules for you and possibly get fired.” *out loud* “I apologize, sir, but there’s nothing else I can do.”

(The guy huffs, spins around, and browses the candy on display by the register before grabbing a pack of gum and tossing it on my belt. I scan his item, he hands me his hundred, and I count out his change and even triple-check because I really don’t want to piss him off anymore at this point. I stick a paid sticker on his gum and hand it and his change to him.)

Me: *as he’s walking away* “Have a great day, sir!”

(He just walked away, all irritated. I even gave him the stupid fifty he saw in my drawer — instead of the normal two twenties and a ten — in his change so he wouldn’t bother me anymore. I later told a manager, and she told me, “Good on you!” because I didn’t give in even though he was being rude.)