I worked at a fast food restaurant for a number of years. I was mostly placed in customer-facing positions and, after being cussed out for any number of things out of my control, thought I had developed a thick skin.

This customer proved me wrong.

It was a hot summer’s day, and we frequently ran specials on our frozen desserts, so we had a line out the door. We were approaching dinner time, and I was staying late to help as the restaurant was short-staffed. I was plating the food as it became available as well as filling any specialty drinks and frozen desserts and helping run the fry station, so I was literally running between stations.

I had four orders up on my screen and more I couldn’t see when I heard a customer ordering frozen drinks for dessert. Typically, I would fill them immediately as I didn’t have to wait for any other station to give me their part of the order, but I couldn’t with this order because I couldn’t see it on my screen to determine the size, quantity, or flavor, so this customer had to wait like everyone else. He was clearly angry about it.

When I filled his two chocolate shakes, he came to the counter and began to berate me before I had a chance to apologize for the wait. I will never forget what he said.

Customer: “It is completely unacceptable that I had to wait this long for my ice cream. I can’t believe how slow you are today! I’ll tell you what. Since you clearly don’t know how to run a restaurant, I am going to come back tomorrow, and you and I are going to have a conversation about it, and you are going to buy me lunch for the privilege.”

With that, he grabbed his desserts and swept off in a huff, leaving me staring after him in disbelief. I wasn’t a manager and wasn’t even supposed to be working. I ended up heading to the back in tears and told my manager I was staying late to help, not be treated like that, and left for the day.

Fortunately, I never saw the jerk again.

The grocery store I work at still does its own fresh-cut meat — not butchered down from the cow, but breaking down the primal cuts into roasts, steaks, etc. I work in the meat department for my first three years at the store, not a job many women do, so I get the occasional customer who assumes I don’t actually work back there and asks for “an actual butcher”.

An older male customer approaches me while I’m checking the fresh-cut case to see if we need anything.

Customer: “Excuse me. Can you tell me if you sell bottom round steaks, but not cut in half?”

Me: “We don’t cut our bottom round steaks in half, so what we have here is the size available. I can see if there’s some in back cut from a larger round, but they’re all pretty much the same size.”

Customer: “No, that’s not right. These are cut in half! Let me talk to someone who knows better!”

I walk him around the corner and grab my coworker.

Me: “This guy has a question for you.”

He repeats his question.

Coworker: “Nope. Those aren’t cut in half.”

Customer: “Well, when I bought them from [Other Store], they were bigger! These must be cut in half!”

My coworker goes into the cooler and grabs the whole primal cut that we cut that particular steak from.

Coworker: “This is the size of round they send us. See this gristle here? You want a steak with that huge chunk of gristle in it?”

Customer: “Well… no.”

Coworker: “Once we cut off that gristle, we have this much left. You want a steak half that wide?”

Customer: “Well… no.”

Coworker: “Well, if I cut it in half, that’s how big they’ll be.”

Customer: “Oh.”

Coworker: “So, do the ones out in the case look good?”

Customer: “…yeah.”

He walks back out to grab the steaks I originally pointed out to him. My coworker turns to me and asks:

Coworker: “When will people start believing you when you answer their questions?”

Me: *Shrug* “When I grow a beard, I guess.”

Back when I was in grade school we went on a fieldtrip to a ‘science and ecology center.’

When we got there, we found out two things: One, my teacher knew the people who owned the science and ecology center. Two, it wasn’t actually set up yet; the main building was still under construction, but they had a few temporary inflatable buildings and a large garden.

Rather than explore the handful of exhibits in the temporary buildings, the teacher lead us to the garden and handed us all seeds.

We spent the whole fieldtrip planting radishes, cucumbers, carrots, and other vegetables so that kids who would visit when the center officially opened would be able to buy ‘locally grown veggies.’

Our parents had to pay $35 and pack lunches for this. The fallout from upset parents was bad enough that our teacher got fired at the end of the school year.

In high school, my band went on a summer trip from our home in Colorado to Calgary, Alberta. At the time, traveler’s cheques were the ideal way to carry large amounts of money on vacation.

Since we’d all bought our traveler’s cheques in Colorado, they were in US funds. Whenever we had to cash in one of our cheques in Canada, the businesses would convert the US dollars to Canadian dollars and then give us the change in Canadian cash. Additionally, if someone had US cash, the businesses would take it and give change in Canadian money. However, they understandably weren’t able to conduct the whole transaction in US currency. They were directed to drop all US cash in a safe, and their managers would take care of getting it exchanged en masse on a weekly basis.

On our way back, we stopped for fast food while we were still in Canada. I only had one traveler’s cheque for money; I’d spent all the Canadian cash I’d accrued over our trip. So, for a $2 hamburger, I got $20-plus in change after cashing in my $20 traveler’s check. “Oh, well,” I thought. “I guess I’ll just have souvenir money.”

Once we crossed the border back into the US (Montana specifically), our buses pulled into a convenience store within sight of the border station. I went in to buy snacks and tried to pay with Canadian cash just as I’d used US cash in Canada.

Clerk: *Looking at me snottily* “We don’t accept that here!”

I guess being an ugly American doesn’t just apply to Americans abroad.

CONTENT WARNING: Pet Death
I had the same dog for half of my life. When she finally passed away last year at almost sixteen, I was devastated as she was my best friend. My mom paid for the cremation as money was very tight right then, but I didn’t ask her to pay the extra to get her cremated separately — they return the dog’s ashes that way — as I already felt bad enough about the whole situation.

I posted on Facebook about a rosebush I had planted in her memory, and it came up that I hadn’t been able to bring her home because of the money. When people on the page I posted her plant on found out, they called the vet to pay the difference so I could bring her home.

Not only that, but a month later, I found a puppy that I wanted and made arrangements for the breeder to hold him for me until I could get the rest of the money for him. (Don’t judge; none of the shelters had a dog that would work for my needs.) A friend paid the deposit for me, but I still needed a few hundred to finish paying for him. I mentioned that on a breed-specific Facebook page that I was making payments, and a complete stranger sent me the rest of the money I needed to bring him home.

It took a crappy situation and made it better by reminding me that there are good people in the world and by giving me a new dog to love.

UPDATE FROM THE OP:

Update because of people being judgy in the comments.

I didn’t have the money to have my original dog cremated because she died on a Sunday and the emergency vet charged several hundred just to have you walk through the door plus over $100 for the medication to put her to sleep and over a hundred more for the cremation. My girl went from fine to needing her final vet trip in less than 12 hours and I wasn’t going to leave her suffering until Monday because it would be cheaper. THAT is why I didn’t have the full amount in my emergency fund.

As far as getting a new dog, I hadn’t intended on getting a new dog after my girl passed. But I fell into a deep depression as my girl had been my ESA. I checked the shelters in our immediate town as well as several others but they had no small dogs. I live in a small apartment with a small yard and didn’t feel like it was fair to cram a big dog into a space that they wouldn’t be comfortable in. I also was hesitant about getting a rescue because I had a rescue cat at the time and was worried that a second rescue animal would be harder to acclimate to a kitty that already had issues.

As far as handling the care of my new boy, he cropped up with kidney issues just after his first birthday. I took him to the vet and put him through 6 months of an intensive and specialized (and expensive) diet and he now has a clean bill of health. I paid for his vet bills and treatments myself as he is my responsibility and I know that. I am on temporary disability at the moment so that’s why money is tight but I will sacrifice so my pets don’t have to go without. Making payments was for the owner to hold him until I was able to get the paycheck to pay for him, I never once asked for or expected help and posted my story because I was blessed, not so others could judge me.