(My mother makes the mistake of offering to pick up a lady from one of her church groups. From then on, the lady pretty much expects to be picked up and dropped off for their group and for church on Sundays. Dad is getting a bit fed up.)

Dad: “Can’t [Lady] get someone else to pick her up?”

Mum: “Oh, come on. We drive right past her house.”

Dad: “Yeah, I know. I’d just like to get to and from church without being farted at.”

Me: *laughing* “Farted at?”

Mum: “Yeah, she always leaves with what we call a ‘parting fart.’”

Dad: “It’s not funny! She has to sit in the front seat and it gets aimed at me every time, and then I have to lean into it because she won’t shut the door properly.”

Mum: “It’s not just you; I get it on Tuesdays!”

(About a week later, I am coming back from church with my Dad. He’s taking the lady home and, true to his word, she farts as she gets out of the car. I instantly wind my window down.)Dad:*winds my window up* “Nope, you can suffer, too. Next time you won’t laugh at me.”

(I decide to get lunch at the food court of my local shopping centre, and I wait in front of a shop known across the globe for its submarine sandwiches. It’s also known for having a customer-serving procedure where you start from the right side and move across to the left side, all the while telling the employee what you want in your sandwich until you reach the register on the far left.)

Me: “Hi. Could I get a full-length sandwich?”

Employee #1: “Sure. What type of bread would you like?”

(I choose the bread and meat and I’m taking a step to the left to decide the cheese when a woman steps into my path.)

Me: *bumps into her suddenly* “Oh! I’m sorry, I—“

Customer: “EXCUSE ME, IDIOT!”

Me: “I, uh… Sorry. I didn’t see you.”

Customer: *rolls eyes, turns to face [Employee #2]* “Hi. I’d like a half-length sandwich, please.”

(Because she’s standing on my left, this creates an awkward situation where she and [Employee #2] have to speak diagonally to each other across from me and [Employee #1].)

Employee #2: “Of course, ma’am. If you could come around to this side so that you can choose the bread.” *motions with his hand to stand on my right side*

Customer: “Yes, I want the honey oat bread.”

Employee #2: “I understand, ma’am, but if you could come around to this side so it will be easier to—“

Customer: “Honey. Oat. Bread.”

Employee #2: “Yes, it’s just that you need to stand—“

Customer: “THIS! ONE! HERE!” *reaches across me and taps loudly on glass*

Employee #2: “I… Okay, fine. Honey oat it is.”

(This uncomfortable standoff goes on as all four of us move down to the left until my sandwich reaches the last step.)

Employee #1: “Sauces and seasoning?”

Me: “Honey mustard sauce and no salt or pepper.”

(I end up having to walk around the female customer in order to get to the register to pay.)

Customer: “HEY! DON’T CUT IN LINE!”

Me: “How am I cutting in line?”

Customer: “You intentionally walked around me so now you’re in front.”

Me: “I’ve always been in front of you. This whole time my sandwich has been ahead of yours. Now it’s finished and I need to pay at the register. Has your sandwich been finished?”

Customer: “Ugh! Whatever.” *rolls her eyes again*

(I paid and left. I’ll never figure out what that woman was trying to pull that day.)

(I work in a store selling Manchester items such as bed linen. I see a woman pulling items off one of our display tables.)

Me: “Hi, can I help you?”

Customer: “Yes. Can you tell me if this will look any good in my room? It has to go with the paint.”

Me: “Well, I don’t know what your room looks like, or what colour the walls are, so I couldn’t really tell you.”

Customer: “The walls are blue; do you think it will go?”

Me: “Again, I couldn’t tell you because I don’t know what sort of blue your walls are. The best thing to do is to try it, and if it doesn’t match, you can bring the item back.”

Customer: “I don’t want to have to come back. I need you to tell me if it will go with my blue walls?”  

Me: “Okay, can you tell me what sort of shade the blue is?”

Customer: “It’s just blue, how can it be that hard?”

Me: *points out several items* “These items are all shades of blue; is there anything that looks like your wall paint?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “So, what shade is your paint?”

Customer: “Blue.”

(Just then, a customer lets me know she needs her sales rung up.)

Me: “I’m sorry, I need to get back to the counter, I’ll leave it with you.”

Customer: “But I need someone to tell me that this will match my room.”

Me: “Okay, then it will match your room.”

Customer: “You really think so? Are you sure?”

Me: “Well, seeing as I have no idea what your room looks like, I’ll go out on a limb and say yes.”

Customer: “Great, thanks.”

(The town is experiencing severe tropical storms and has several roads flooded in. Our shop stays open because our location is generally accessible. With regularly updated broadcasts of which roads have been flooded and are inaccessible, we keep a close eye to manage our delivery service. I am managing a busy shift where most customers are just grateful to have some food available to them. I notice one of my staff looking worried while on a phone call. I motion to her to ask if she needs help, and she nods yes before politely excusing herself from the customer and saying that her manager is on hand to help her. I take the phone and immediately hear a hysterically, loud woman rudely saying that she just wanted to place an order for delivery, with what sounds like a bunch of kids playing and screaming at each other in the background.)

Me: “Of course, ma’am. Can I start with asking what address you would like that delivery to?”

Customer: “[Street]! I told the other girl already! Why can’t you f****** idiots do anything right?!”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am. This storm has been going for two days, and your road has been flooded in. We have no way of getting our drivers to your house.” *thinking quickly that I would try to help by taking the delivery out myself and convert this lady into a happy customer* “However, if you could drive down the road to the opposite side of the flooded section, we could get the driver to walk across and hand you your order.

Customer: “I’m not going anywhere! Why should I have to leave my house for a delivery order?”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not sure how you think we can get the order to you. Your house is located over three kilometres from the flooded section, with no other way in. We really should not be delivering to you at all, but I understand that you have a difficult–”

Customer: “Do you do deliveries?!”

Me: “Um, yes?”

Customer: “So why can’t you deliver to me?!”

Me: “Um, because there is a flood on your road and it has been closed off to vehicles.”

Customer: “How hard is it to do your f****** jobs?! You either deliver or you don’t! This is f****** bulls***! I’ve got five hungry kids here, and how am I supposed to feed them? This f****** rain has flooded our road in and we can’t drive out to the f****** shops to get any food!”

Me: “Well, I’m sorry that we couldn’t help you today. Here’s the number to [Competitor].” *who we know, like most other businesses in town, is not trading during the severe weather* “I hope that they can help you out today.”

Customer: *click*

(Of course, the lady calls back about forty-five minutes later after possibly trying every other delivery service in town.)

Customer: *pretending to not have called at all earlier* “Hi, can I get a delivery to [address], please? I know the road is flooded in, but we can meet you halfway down the road.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, we can do that. However, it is very busy right now and there is a four-hour wait on all delivery orders.” *not true*

(The politeness evaporated, and I got a satisfying chance to return the favour of hanging up while she continued to curse a blue streak.)

(A man comes up to the counter.)

Me: *usual greeting* “What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “A pizza.”

Me: “Sure! Which one would you like today?” *gesturing at the secondary menu right in front of him on the counter*

Customer: “Oh, I don’t know! A pizza! Any pizza! I don’t care!”

Me: “Well, everyone likes a little something different. Is there anything you like or don’t like in particular?”

Customer: “A PIZZA! A PIZZA! How hard is it to order a f****** pizza?!” *throws his hands up in disgust and looks around like everyone in line should feel sorry that I am making life so difficult for him*

Me: “Okay… Well, how does a BBQ meat-lovers’ pizza sound to you? It’s got pepper—“

Customer: “Yes! Okay! Whatever! You people… Just hurry up already.”

Me: “Okay, that will be [total], and we will have your order ready for you in ten minutes.”

(I ask the team to rush this gentleman’s order, as he seems to be a little bit difficult. I rush the pizza over to the gentleman where he is waiting, give him his order with a friendly smile, and wish him a good evening. The customer comes back ten minutes later, and throws the half-eaten pizza over the counter where it splatters all over our display cabinets.)

Customer: “This is disgusting! I want my money back! You guys are despicable, rotten mongrels! How do you run a business ripping people off like this?! I’m a vegetarian, and I hate BBQ sauce! You fed me meat! I want your name, and I’m going to get you fired, you stupid idiot! You’re so stupid that you won’t even have this dead-end job by the end of the day!”

(I am the owner of this store. Because it was rush period, I calmly told the gentleman that he wouldn’t be getting his money back because he refused to answer any questions about what he wanted, and that if he didn’t leave immediately, the police would be here from their station just on the corner to handle his “refund.” It took a few minutes to get him out of the store, still ranting and raving. We offered free drinks or desserts to the customers who had to witness the event, but every customer brushed off the offer, saying that it wasn’t our fault, “some people are just miserable b*****ds,” and that “we should charge everyone extra for the entertainment while they waited.”)