(I run a small pack-and-ship on an island in south Florida. Unbeknownst to me, an owner two years before me kept a copy machine near the entrance. I have three copy machines located behind my desk.)

Customer: *enters store and looks around wildly, and as I’m serving another customer* “Where the h*** is your copy machine?!”

Me: “I have three back here behind me.” *points out copiers*

Customer: “That doesn’t help me!”

Me: “If you’ll give me your papers I’ll gladly make the copies for you.”

Customer: *as I’m making his copies* “What happened to the copy machine you had by the front?”

Me: “I’ve only ever had my three machines back here. I suppose it’s possible the owner before me had one out there.”

Customer: “Well, how does that help me at all?”

(Thirty seconds of silence.)

Customer: “I still can’t believe you don’t have a copy machine in here.”

Me: *out of patience at this point* “What are you talking about? I told you twice now I have three of them back here, and I’m literally copying your document right now.”

(I bring him his two forms.)

Me: “That’s 50 cents.”

Customer: “You know, there’s a print shop on [Local Road] that makes copies for five cents a piece.”

Me: “All right…” *shrugs* “Well, we’re a shipping store and we charge 25 cents a page.”

Customer: *pays me 50 cents* “I’m never coming here again.”

Me: “Don’t get my hopes up.”

(This man has been back three times since to overnight something and curses me out every time I give him the price. He doesn’t take kindly to my advice of shipping his packages earlier. I’m just glad I own and run an independent shop so I don’t have to bend over for that sort of customer.)

(It’s Christmas Eve and the supermarket where I’m shopping is packed. I’ve done my best to get around and not lose my temper and have managed to get almost everything I need. I line up at the checkout, not necessarily at the shortest queue but the easiest to get to, given how packed it is. Shortly, a lady lines up behind me. At this point, I am sick of people, the queue, Christmas, and everything. I hate stupid questions. Sarcasm mode kicks in.)

Lady: “What are we lining up for? I just want to get out!”

Me: “We’re lining up for a really exciting roller coaster!”

(It’s my cousin’s birthday and to celebrate, I take her and a few of my siblings out to a local fast food place. They’re really young. The drive-thru is slammed, and the kids say they want to eat inside. We go in and get in line. In front of me is a man taking up the manager’s and cashier’s attention, by yelling and cursing at them for making his food wrong.)

Manager: “Sir, we’ve remade your food three times now.”

Customer: “Then you’d better make it right this time!”

Manager: “No, I’ve already wasted enough time on you!”

Customer: “I’m not leaving until I get my d*** order!”

(The manager takes his receipt and tells the kitchen precisely what is on the receipt, even jumping into the kitchen to help out. The customer turns to me and says:)

Customer: “Can you believe these people? Demanding fifteen dollars an hour to f*** up our orders three times?”

(I can’t help but say:)

Me: “Well, they’ll need it in order to afford the therapy for putting up with people like you.”

(The other customers and some of the employees laugh, and my siblings and cousin all yell “burn!” The guy grabs his wrong order off the counter and storms out of the restaurant, but not before calling me a few degrading names.)

Cashier: “I am so sorry about that, miss.”

Me: *shrugging* “It’s not your fault.”

(The manager came forward — still laughing — and apologized to the entire restaurant for having to deal with the customer. I was offered free desserts for my comeback, which was a nice gesture.)

(I work at a racetrack serving betters in the restaurant on race nights. We have several regulars who come in every race night. Two in particular, a husband and wife, are very sweet. All of the staff, including managers, restaurant staff, and the employees in my department, love them for being so kind. I have the pleasure of serving them every single race night, so I have gotten to know them and can get away with joking around with them. On one particular race night, I jokingly made a funny face at the man as I approached their usual table.)

Man: “Be careful! My mama said that if you make a funny face, you’ll get stuck like that!”

Me: “Well, I can see you never listened to your mama.”

(His wife broke out laughing and he gave me a high five for my quick come back. To this day we still enjoy making fun of each other.)

(I am working as a ranger on a busy Sunday. All of the tee times are taken for the entire day. Even though the course is full, the pace of play is still at four hours because the course uses ten-minute tee times. As I come up to the eleventh tee, a customer is practice swinging his driver while waiting for the group in front of him move to the green. The customer walks over to me.)

Customer: “I want to play through the group ahead of us.”

Me: *politely* “I am sorry, sir, but that is not an option. The course is full and there is no group that is out of position.”

Customer: “I know the owner of the course and he would let my group play through.”

Me: “I know the owner quite well myself, and your group will not be able to play through.”

(He turns his back to me and starts swearing every swear word known to man. His swearing does not bother me because he’s not directing his comments to me. His three other playing partners never say a word to me and look content drinking a cold beverage while waiting their turn. All of a sudden, he quickly turns around and starts walking towards me in a fast pace with his driver in his hand. He has a crazy look in his eyes as he approaches and I prepare myself for an angry confrontation.)

Customer: *screaming* “I have a date today and if I am late for my date, I am going to have my girlfriend call you to yell at you!”

Me: *without hesitation* “Is your girlfriend hot? If she is, I will give you my number. Have her call me.”

(The three men on the carts busted up laughing. The man with the golf club never said another word for the rest of the day.)

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