(I work for a moving truck rental company. One Sunday morning, a customer who looks to be in her mid-30s walks in with pop music playing quite loudly from her phone’s speaker. She sets the phone on the counter, music still playing, before talking to me.)

Customer: “Can I get a truck?”

Me: *having heard her perfectly well* “I’m sorry; I couldn’t hear you over your music.”

Customer: *not getting the hint and just raising the volume of her voice* “I WANT A TRUCK.”

(The transaction continues as normal until the song ends and another one starts playing.)

Customer: *still yelling* I don’t even like this song!

(I stand there for a minute, expecting her to maybe turn it off or at least change the song, but she doesn’t do anything, so I continue with the transaction. I finally get to the payment portion.)

Me: “Will you be paying cash or card today?”

Customer: “What do you mean, today? I’ll pay when I come back. That’s how I always do it.”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s company policy to take money up front. We’re not able to just give trucks out on good faith and hope they’ll come back paid for!” *slight chuckle*

Customer: *still completely serious* “I want to pay cash, but I want to pay when I get back.”

Me: “We can’t do that, ma’am.”

Customer: “Fine, put it on my credit card!”

(Thankfully, the card goes through and I’m able to finish the transaction and get the customer out the door and into her truck. When I get back inside, my coworker, who was listening the entire time, starts laughing.)

Coworker: “Why didn’t you just ask her to turn her music off?”

Me: “Do you really think she would have listened?”

Coworker: *pauses for a second* “Not a chance, no.”

(It is about 15 years ago, and I am a greeter at a gigantic nationwide store. My duties are to make sure the front of the store is a safe place, all the carts are clean, and cart wipes are stocked in the proper container. Occasionally, something will set the buzzer off and I have to check the receipt to find a common data point between all the things that set off the buzzer that day, but other than that, it is usually a pretty chill job. This is the tale of one afternoon shift that is decidedly not chill: An incredibly old, frail, and somewhat wobbly woman comes through the doorway with a cart, and sets the buzzer off.)

Old Woman: “Oh, dear me! What is that?”

Me: “Hi, ma’am! I’m [My Name], and please don’t worry. It’s an alarm that makes sure everything is scanned and all tags are deactivated, like on pharmacy items, liquor, and detergents. I’m so sorry for the scare there! May I see your receipt, for the register and order numbers?”

Old Woman: “I went through the pharmacy, and then I grabbed this cart from over by those old registers they never use except for the holiday season, what with the Black Friday and Thanksgiving and all that…”

(While she’s talking, I take a quick look at the cart, noticing quite a few bottles of liquor, partly covered by newspapers and a torn up box. A common trick, but only in a much younger demographic.)

Me: “Oh, okay, ma’am. Well, it looks like you may have grabbed someone else’s cart. There’s actually a few bottles of liquor in here.”

Old Woman: *is very confused* “Liquor? Like bourbon and whiskey?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am.”

Old Woman: “Oh, no, dear, I don’t use any of that… A Scotch every other week, maybe some baking with rum or something for the holidays, but I don’t buy it. My husband does all that stuff! Oh, heavens, all this trouble! Well, I was just getting my prescription, but I took this cart from the old registers! Oh, but you…” *motions towards me with one hand, and almost falls, catching herself on the cart* “…well, you can take all this rubbish out, right? I need this to walk to my car!”

Me: “Well, yeah, but I think it may be easier for you tonight if you just got a scooter.” *points at the electric carts*

Old Woman: “Oh, no. Oh, no. That won’t do.” *tries to walk with the cart, but is even more wobbly*

Me: “Ma’am? I’d much rather see you safe in a scooter than wobbling and falling. The young man bringing in carts will help you out to your car, okay?”

Old Woman: “Well, all right, if you insist.”

Me: “I do, yes. I’m sorry for the scare; you have a better day, okay?”

Old Woman: “Well, you just added a bit of excitement in this old woman’s day. You have a good evening now, child.”

Me: “Thank you.”

(The courtesy clerk quickly gets her purse, and I make a stop motion as he starts to grab the liquor. He whispers:)

Clerk: “Like what, she stole it?”

Me: *whispering back* “No. This isn’t even her stuff at all! Totally unintentional.”

(I think that the matter is finished, and all I have to do is take the cart back to the LP department so they can do their thing. But, as I’m walking the liquor filled cart to Customer Service, some random woman, reeking of liquor and looking worse than drunk, grabs my arm. She has an incredibly fragile, tough-girl act going on:)

Drunk Girl: “Yo! Like, why’d you move my cart, b****?”

Me: “This cart? An old woman was using it to support herself while she was walking out of the store!” *quickly reaches the Customer Service desk*

Drunk Girl: *walking briskly beside me* “YO! LIKE, NO, B****! YOU DON’T F****** TOUCH MY STUFF!” *tries and fails to grab the cart* “I PAID FOR ALL OF THIS, YA KNOW!?”

Me: “Sure. Okay.” *quickly moves the cart of booze behind the Customer Service desk* “I just need to see your receipt for all of that. Immediately.”

Drunk Girl: “LIKE, WHATEVER, MAN, GIVE IT TO ME. MY F****** CART, YO!”

Me: *turns around to the clerk* “Hey! Page LP real quick. We’ve got a live one.”

Clerk: “Already done.”

(The drunk girl ran and took the cart from behind the desk, and as she ran towards the other doorway, a couple of police officers stopped her, one handcuffing her and the other redirecting the cart towards Customer Service where the LP guy was waiting. She was arrested when they found that she had an outstanding warrant, but they added underage drinking, public intoxication, and a couple of other things.)

(My husband and I go to the hotel bar, which is attached to the check-in desk. One of the clerks comes over to serve us.)

Clerk: “What can I get for you?”

Me: “I’ll take an old fashioned.”

(The clerk looks at me like a deer in the headlights.)

Me: “Are you okay with that? I can tell you how to make it.”

Clerk: “I’m okay with that. Are you okay with that?”

Me: “Well… Yeah?”

Clerk: “Is he okay with that?” *gesturing to my husband*

Me: “Well, I’m over 21, so I can drink whatever I want, and he doesn’t get a say in it.”

(Another clerk then comes to his rescue and he runs away.)

Me: “I never thought I’d have someone ask my husband for permission to give me a drink!”

Clerk #2: “Yeah, I don’t know what that was about.”

(My fiancé and I have decided, two weeks prior to our wedding, to finally go to the jewelry store and pick out wedding bands. As we both dislike most jewelry, we have decided on getting plain, white gold bands to match my single-stone, white gold, 1.5-carat Moissanite ring. We decide to check out a jeweler in the department store I work at, meaning I would get an employee discount. We’d gone to another jeweler for the Moissanite, because the one at the department store doesn’t have Moissanite rings, and I am very specific about not having a diamond.)

Me: “My fiancé and I are looking for wedding bands. We want simple—”

Clerk: *grabs my hand* “Oh, what a gorgeous diamond! I have several wedding bands that will match!”

(She drops my hand and goes to a nearby jewelry case. Within 45 seconds, she brings out a gigantic onyx and diamond monstrosity for him, and a silver, three-stone, two-carat engagement ring for me.)

Clerk: “This is only $3,560! A steal at that price!”

Me: “What I was trying to say is that we would like plain, white gold wedding bands. No stones; I’d prefer my Moissanite to stand out on its own.”

Fiancé: “Yeah, those aren’t even an option based on the stones alone. And that looks like an engagement ring. Also, she works at [Department Store], so we were wondering about the employee discount?”

Clerk: “Yeah, it’s an engagement ring. It’ll work; I promise. I mean, you could always get rid of that single stone; it’s too small.”

(She briefly explains the discount. Over the next half-hour or so, she shows us about ten different options at decreasing price points that are not anywhere near what we wanted, promising each time that we’ll like her selection and that she’ll get us what we want. I clarify several times that we would really like to see plain rings. At one point, I notice a full case of plain rings right behind her, on the back wall of the store. I ask her about the case, and she ignores me. I am getting increasingly irate, and in response to her showing me a $599 engagement ring and wedding band set and sneering at me with disgust as she does so, I finally snap:)

Me: “As I have stated, several times, I would love to see any of your plain. White. Gold. Rings. Don’t bother showing me another one. I’m sure that [Competitor], the place I bought my Moissanite from — with my fiancé — would be able to give us what we want.”

(She ignores me, of course, so she produces yet another diamond encrusted piece of “f*** this.” A $200 wedding band, at this point. She glares at me. I turn and walk out without another word.)

Fiancé: “You have done a fantastic job at ignoring everything we’ve stated. Goodbye.”

(Less than five minutes later, we arrive at the competitor.)

Me: “Hi! We were looking for wedding bands.”

Jeweler: “Of course! I have an entire case right here. What were you looking for? We have silver, white gold, gold, 14k, 10k, with stones…”

Fiancé: “Ah, just plain, and white gold to match her ring.”

(After a brief exchange of information to bring up my account:)

Jeweler: “Oh, what a beautiful Moissanite!”

Me: “Thank you! I get asked, ‘Is it real?’ all the time, and I’m like, ‘Yes, it does exist!’”

Jeweler: *laughs* “Very good choice, I must say. Your ring is a 14k, but I recommend a 10-carat for you, sir.”

Fiancé: “Excellent, thanks!”

(We selected our rings, and our transaction was processed within 15 minutes of our arrival in the store. We got a better deal with them than anything I was being offered at the other place, so I was quite happy. As we were walking past their shop-front, I saw the woman in her shop. She glared at me with her arms crossed. I smiled and waved at her with the hand that was holding my new ring.)

(It is my last day of working retail ever. I am very pregnant and very cranky, and I have been in retail dealing with a**hole customers for seven years at this point. None of us are at our best right now, especially me, mainly because I don’t have any f***s left to give.)

Customer: *gets super close to my personal space*

Me: *moves away and continues stocking bakery items from my cart* “Hi! Is there anything I can help you with today?”

Customer: *completely ignores me, and continues to browse the table I’m stocking*

Me: *stocking the table in silence*

Customer: *looks over at me* “Ma’am?”

Me: *looks him directly in the eyes* “Yes, sir, how can I help you today?”

Customer: “YOO-OO HOOOOO!” *waves hands in front of me, and I jump back*

Me: “Yes? What can I help you with today?”

Customer: “You know, you really should acknowledge when people speak to you!” *waves his hand in my face again* “Yooo-hooo! Hellooooo! Can you hear me?”

Me: *checks the time and sees that my shift is over, puts the item I’m holding back on the cart I was stocking from* “You know what? F*** this. I’m out of here!” *looks at the customer again* “And you know what? You should acknowledge when people speak to you! Courtesy and listening skills would get you a long d*** way.”

(I go clock out as he storms over to my store manager and starts a very animated conversation with her. I have to walk by them to get to the locker room.)

Manager: *steps back to address me, earning a glare from the customer* “Hey, when’s the last shift before your maternity leave?”

Me: “Oh, it just ended. Sorry, I thought you knew.”

Manager: “No? Hmm.” *to the customer* “Well, she’s on leave, and I don’t want to deal with the paperwork, corporate inquiries, and lawsuits.”

Customer: “FIRE. HER. NOW. Or, I will never shop here again!”

Manager: “Fine, bye! [Competitor] is full of entitled snoots like you, and they’re only half a mile away! You’ll be right at home!” *walks away*

(The manager walks into the break room.)

Manager: “Oh, hey, you’re fired.”

Me: “Ohmygods! The discriminations! Nooooo!” *acts like I’m mortally wounded in a badly comedic way*

Manager: “Okay, you’re hired again.”

Me: “But I already resigned!”

Manager: “…”

Me: “…”

Manager: “Wait, really?”

Me: “Yeah, sorry. Letter’s on your desk. And you already have the staff to replace me from the other store!”

Manager: “So… Oh. Oh, no.”

Me: “Yeah, I’m really moving. Sorry for that ‘no f***s given’ situation there.”

Manager: “Wow. Yeah, well, you’ve done us a huge favor, getting rid of that guy before I had to trespass him! He’s such a nuisance!”