I work parking at a large music venue where we can see over 20,000 people, but this evening is a rap concert with a little over 15,000. The concert has just ended, so all 15,000 people are trying to leave at once and we are doing our best to direct traffic and control the lines.

I have three lines of cars taking turns turning onto the main road when suddenly a car goes around everyone else and makes her own line. I’m not having it, so I stand in front of her car and direct everyone else to go around. She then gets out of her car and starts to yell at me.

Customer: “I ain’t about to sit here all night because you’re standing in my way. You need to get out my way so I can leave.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I just watched you cut everyone here, so you are going to stay here until I decide otherwise.”

She continues to cuss at me and yell at me.

Customer: “I’m going to have to whoop your a** if you don’t move.”

I’ve been at work for eleven hours, I’m tired, and I don’t like being disrespected, so I get loud.

Me: “Look here. You have three options. You can whoop my a** and go to jail. You can get back in your car and run me over… and go to jail. Or you can get back in your car and hope I let you out soon. Otherwise, you aren’t leaving.”

The customer starts yelling some more. I respond as loud as possible.

Me: “YOU WILL GET BACK IN YOUR CAR IMMEDIATELY OR I WILL MAKE SURE YOU ARE THE LAST CAR TO LEAVE THIS LOT!”

She finally backed down and got in her car. I let her leave after a few minutes, but all the other cars in earshot kept telling me, “Good job,” and, “Way to go,” as they left. I also told my boss to expect a complaint and I’ll accept the consequences because it was worth it.

Around eleven at night, a car started honking in our parking lot. I thought it was just someone honking at someone for cutting them off or something, but then it just didn’t stop, going on and on. It wasn’t regular enough to be a car alarm, and finally, my roommate got fed up enough to go out and see what was happening.

He went out to see that there was a car, idling in the middle of the lot, with the driver honking her horn repeatedly at apparently nothing. There were a couple of people nearby watching her, and one was apparently talking, or really shouting with her through the window.

“You need to let people sleep!” The guy by the window was saying. The woman shouted something back, and the guy pointed towards the back row of the parking lot. “There are plenty of spaces over there.”

At that point, my roommate had gotten close enough to hear what she said in response: “I don’t wanna walk that far.”

The guy who had been talking to her turned to my roommate. “She’s honking to get someone to move their car so she can park.”

The lady started honking again, and my roommate slapped his hand down on her roof, getting her to jump. Something to know about my roommate is that he has very little tolerance for bulls***, especially when he is tired. The lady stopped honking, and he full-on roared at her. “Shut the f*** up and park your car, or I’m gonna start breaking s*** and shut it up myself.”

That got her moving, all the way out of the parking lot entirely. We didn’t hear another peep that night or since. Here’s hoping she’s learned her lesson from that.

(I have a birth defect, spina bifida, which caused my legs and feet not to grow properly. Though I can stand and walk some, it is immediately exhausting and I can only walk with support. I use a wheelchair and drive with hand controls. I have a van which I put my wheelchair in from the back passenger door. One day, I drive up to a shopping center, park in a handicap spot, and start getting my chair out. I notice a security guard looking at my handicap license plate. That’s cool, no problem; you can’t tell I’m in a wheelchair right away and I hate when people park illegally. I get into my chair and smile at him. This is not some cheap hospital wheelchair someone might use to pretend they are handicapped; it is an expensive custom fit chair.)

Guard: “Ma’am, do you have your placard for this spot?”

(I look at the license plate he was just looking at, and then I look down at myself.)

Me: “Um… no, I have my license plate.”

Guard: “Oh… Well, I just want to make sure; people steal these spots from people who need them a lot.”

(I look down at myself, and then look at my license plate.)

Me: “Uh-huh…”

(The guard walked away after looking at me blankly for several seconds. I don’t know if he thought the chair meant I didn’t really NEED a close spot, thought I was faking it, or was just on automatic.)

(I’m repairing a payment machine which is turned off, the front of the machine is open, and I have some of the larger components on the ground at my feet. I am approached by a middle-aged customer.)

Customer: “The machines won’t accept my pound coin!” *holds up a plastic toy pound coin*

Me: “That’s because that’s not a pound coin, pal. It’s not even made of metal!”

Customer: “But it says one pound on it.” *looking bewildered* “Can you change it for another one, please?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you a real pound coin for a toy pound coin!”

(She begins to walk away and I return to my repairs. I then hear something rattle down the open frontage of the machine and look down to see the toy pound coin on the floor, and I look around to see the customer squeezed between a window and the machine front.)

Customer: “See, I told you it wouldn’t work.”

(I hand her back the coin.)

Me: “It’s not a pound coin, and no amount of you trying to act dumb is going to make me give you a pound!”

(I work at a farm park — halfway between a petting zoo and a theme park, centred around farm animals. During busy times, staff go out into the car park to direct traffic and make sure customers aren’t parking incorrectly. It is a particularly busy day, and we’ve moved to our overflow car park, which is a little removed from the entrance, but no more than two minutes’ walk. A woman drives up to me and I direct her into the overflow park, but she doesn’t stop, and instead pulls up by me and winds down her window.)

Customer: “Is there not anywhere closer? I’ve got my little girl with me.”

(For reference, the park is aimed at two- to eight-year-olds. Everyone has their children with them.)

Me: “I’m afraid not, madam. It’s an incredibly busy day for us, and we’ve filled our two main car parks already.” 

Customer: *craning her neck to look past me as if I’m hiding something* “There must be somewhere. We can’t walk this far; she’s only three!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. It’s a busy day.”

Customer: “Do you have disabled parking?”

Me: “Yes, for blue badge holders.”

Customer: “My daughter is three! There must be somewhere nearer. I’m going to have a look.”

(She drove away. Five minutes later, she was driving out of the park, looking mildly confused. I got called onto my lunch break around that point so, luckily, I didn’t have to face her coming back round. I’m not sure what she thought I was doing — trying to hide the best spaces for some reason?)