I work at the main admissions desk and gift shop in an art gallery.

Our entrance consists of two sets of double doors, leaving a small room, surrounded by glass. This room contains, among other things, an umbrella stand.

This umbrella stand comes up to just above my knees and is basically a metal can with disconnected line art making the image of an umbrella on it. People are constantly mistaking it for a trash receptacle, which is fair; I understand that unless you study it carefully, it is very easy to make that mistake.

I’ve tried printing out a sign with two bold black arrows on either side pointing down, an image of an umbrella, and the words “umbrella stand” between them, but I still have to dump out the odd coffee cup. Again, if you’re just walking through, I can see why people might make the mistake.

Last Monday, it was raining, so I brought my umbrella to work. This is a long, black umbrella. By long, I mean it comes up to my hip, so it’s definitely taller than the stand. I left it in the stand all day, without tying the strap around it, so that it could dry. At this point, with an umbrella sticking out of it, it should be pretty obvious that this is an umbrella stand, right?

When I got off the bus for home, it had started raining again, so I opened up my umbrella, and…

Someone’s used tissue fell out.

Customer: “I’d like a [frozen ice cream treat with a topping].”

Me: “Which flavour would you like?”

Customer: “Regular.”

Me: “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘regular.’ We have Oreo, Smarties, strawberry shortcake, or Rolo.”

Customer: “Just the normal one.”

Me: “They’re all normal, just different flavours. Or do you mean you just want ice cream?”

Customer: “No, with a topping. The normal one.”

Me: “Will that be with normal Oreo, normal Smarties, normal strawberry shortcake, or normal Rolo?”

Customer: *sighing* “Smarties.”

Our grocery store has a script for cashiers to follow, including such questions as asking whether the customer found everything, if they have a points card, and so on. It has been in place for years, and most regular customers have their answers prepared beforehand. A woman with grey hair approaches my cash register and unloads her groceries without a word.

Me: “Hello!”

The customer begins looking through her purse. I don’t mind, as sometimes my voice isn’t loud enough to be heard over the machines. I try again, louder.

Me: “How are you today?”

The customer continues to rummage, ignoring me, so I continue bagging her groceries. When I look up again, I find her holding a cue card a few inches from my face.

Customer’s Card: “Please do not ask me if I found everything I was looking for. I find it insulting to my intelligence.”

Me: *Pause* “Okay.”

Customer: “Thank you. I understand you’re supposed to ask, but it’s just so insulting!”

I finished the transaction in silence and the customer left. When I asked my manager about it later, I learned that she is well-known for this. According to her, being asked if she “found everything she was looking for” means that we think she is incapable of locating things on her own. I stopped seeing her a few months later; presumably, she began taking her business to a less insulting store!

My brother and I are twenty-six and thirty-two respectively, and we live with our parents because the economy sucks.

One of the fuses in our apartment went out. I contacted the property manager, but it was Saturday night and she couldn’t get someone from maintenance to come out until Monday, seeing as it wasn’t an emergency — just that a couple of lights and outlets weren’t working, but nothing pressing. One of the lights not working was in the bathroom. 

Around midnight that same night, Dad had to pee. Instead of sitting on the toilet or something, he apparently just could not aim properly and peed all around the area of the toilet. Mom overheard him cursing about it and came to get me, because she’s blind and, well, that shit is nasty. So, I had to get out of bed and go wash the bathroom floor.

When I asked him why he couldn’t just sit to pee until it was fixed, he angrily retorted, “Well, if someone would finally call the property manager so we can get the fuse fixed, then I could see what I was doing!“

“Dad, I already called,” I explained. “They can’t send anybody out until Monday.”

“Oh.”

For the rest of the weekend, he was able to magically not pee on the floor, even at night. That’s when I knew it was done out of spite.

(I am fifteen years old and I work at an ice cream shop. I’m the only person working the opening shift and when I come in, I realize that we are all out of waffle cones. All of our ice cream and waffle cones are made right in the store, and the night staff didn’t make any more waffle cones the night before. Waffle cones only take thirty seconds or so to make, but they are hot when they come out of the iron and would melt the ice cream if used right away. I’m in the middle of making more cones when an elderly customer comes over. She asks for her ice cream in a paper bowl, and I finish up her order, as she requested, in no time at all.)

Customer: “Excuse me, I changed my mind. Could I actually have this in a waffle cone, instead?”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am! We’re actually all out of waffle cones at the moment. I’m making some more right now!”

Customer: “But I see some right beside you!”

Me: “These ones just came out of the iron and they’re still very hot. They would melt your ice cream if I tried to use them.”

(The woman starts screaming at me and demanding a waffle cone or her money back. My supervisor comes over.)

Supervisor: “What’s going on here?!”

Customer: “This little brat doesn’t know how to make good food! If I don’t get some decent customer service, then I want a refund!”

(My supervisor is a mother herself, and her daughter and I are about the same age, so she is always pretty protective of me.)

Supervisor: “Look, these kids work too d*** hard to have to put up with the likes of you! There aren’t any waffle cones ready for you, so take your ice cream in a paper bowl and stop insulting my staff!”

Customer: “Give me my money back!”

(The customer slams her ice cream against the desk and holds out her hand, expecting cash. The supervisor gives her the refund, if only to get her to leave. The customer storms off and we’re left in an empty store. There are still no customers.)

Supervisor: *to me* “Sweetie, take that order and put it in the freezer. You can have it on your break, all right? My treat!”

Me: “Are you sure? Won’t you get in trouble—”

Supervisor: “After what that b**** put you through, you deserve it. Enjoy, kiddo!”