I work in a hotel. Whoever does the night audit shift and security is allowed to park their car on the edge inside the wide carport. People can still drive through it. This is a boon for us, because we like to keep an eye on our cars during these hours. Years ago, I had somebody mess with my car twice when I parked further away while doing a shift from 3:00 to 11:00 pm.

Every now and then, the carport will have a guest temporarily park in my spot behind security while they check in. That’s no big deal; I can temporarily park in the loading bay about fifty feet away until it clears out.

One day when this happens, soon after I clock in, an extremely angry lady comes to the front desk.

Lady: “There’s a car in a disability-accessible spot without a sticker! I demand that it be towed!”

She shows me a picture on her phone… and it is my car.

Me: “Ma’am, that’s my car.”

It’s probably a mistake to tell her that.

Me: “But that isn’t an accessible spot. It’s a loading bay typically used for deliveries, like food trucks.”

The loading bay area is next to the accessible spots, but there’s not an accessible sign where I’m parked. It’s about three times the size of a regular parking spot, and it has vertical lines in it from top to bottom.

Lady: “Well, it’s not any kind of parking spot.”

Me: “I agree. If you can acknowledge that, then why are you treating it like it’s a parking spot?”

She doesn’t give an answer, and we repeat this cycle of conversation. She keeps making exaggerated facial expressions that come across as condescending and snooty, as if she doesn’t believe me — the guy working behind the desk at the property.

Then, she turns and walks toward the front door.

Lady: *Loudly, over her shoulder* “I’m going to tell my husband!”

Me: *Calling after her* “Please, do!”

As she is exiting, I hear her yell out to somebody:

Lady: “You’re going to flip your lid! The guy said…”

The “husband” never comes inside or calls me. I see another person on the camera, but it is dark and they quickly walk off to one of our other buildings.

About five minutes later, my security person comes up to me.

Security: “Why are the police here?”

I get a sense of dread and think, “She better have not called the police.”

Yes, yes, she did. The police officer says they got a call from a person not wanting to identify themself about this situation. He is parked on the edge of the carport.

Officer: “There’s not even an accessible sign there!”

We talk about it and kind of find the whole situation funny. The cop is able to tell that I am not in a parking spot, accessible or otherwise, from fifty feet away in the dark. He waves it off.

Officer: “Don’t worry about it. Even if there were a real case, it’s up to the property to have a car towed or removed, not the police.”

The fact that the lady didn’t want to give her identity makes me think she knew she was in the wrong.

I’m being trained at my first call center job as a customer service representative. My trainer is telling me about difficult customers.

Trainer: “One irate customer disliked another representative’s answer so much that he drove across state lines to talk to her face-to-face at [Sister Call Center]. He got really aggressive about trying to talk to her, so we had to get the cops involved!”

Because of customers like that, I always lied about where I was located any time someone asked where my call center was, no matter how nice the person was.

I grew up low-income and never had a bra that actually fit properly. So, when I’m twenty, my best friend convinces me to get a bra fitting done. Due to some traumatic things from my childhood, I ask [Employee #1] if [Best Friend] can be in the room with us — the fitting rooms are individual spaces, so no other women — and she agrees without any question. At the time, there are no other women trying anything on or getting fitted. It’s just the three of us,

I should mention at this point that my best friend is gay and has a boyfriend who he has since married. But even if he weren’t, I trust him completely.

Everything in the fitting room goes well, I get my proper sizing, and I leave to go look for bras. As my friend and I are exiting the fitting room, a woman sees us.

Woman: “What was he doing in there?”

Now, I absolutely get that she might be uncomfortable, and I respect that completely. It’s what happens next that is upsetting.

Me: “I asked him to be present for my fitting. It was just us and an employee back there.”

Woman: “Well, he shouldn’t be back there. He shouldn’t even be in this store. How do I know he’s not a pervert?”

Me: “I’m really sorry, ma’am, but I promise he was only here to help me.”

She glares at us and wanders off, and I think it’s the end of it.

Then, I hear yelling at the front of the store. The woman is actually screaming at the employees to call the police because of a “pervert” in the store.

Woman: “MEN SHOULDN’T EVEN BE IN THIS STORE, AND YOU LET HIM IN THE DRESSING ROOM! DO YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF MEN WANT TO BE IN THE DRESSING ROOM?!”

Employee #2: “Ma’am, women are allowed to bring their boyfriends and husbands into this store.”

Woman: “CALL. THE. POLICE. NOW.”

Employee #1: “Ma’am, I was in the room with him, and he did not bother any women. He was on his phone the entire time, and there were no other women in the entire dressing area.”

Woman: “HE WAS PROBABLY FILMING! OR TAKING PICTURES! HE’S A PERVERT! NO MAN SHOULD HAVE A CAMERA IN THE DRESSING ROOMS!”

Employee #1: “Ma’am, please stop yelling.”

Woman: “IF YOU DON’T CALL THE POLICE, I WILL.”

True to her word, she dialed 911 and began screaming about witnessing a man taking photos in the dressing room. She began describing my best friend down to the clothes he was wearing.

Figuring it was better to just wait for the police, my best friend and I waited by the checkout. When the police showed up, the woman went running up to them, screaming about how she was in the dressing room when the “pervert” began taking photos and filming. 

Both employees, my best friend, and I explained what had actually happened and how her behavior rapidly escalated. My best friend even offered over his phone to be inspected, which, surprise surprise, revealed zero images of women in a state of undress.

At this point, the police asked if there were cameras for the store. They were not accusing us, but they were also treating the woman well and not acting until they could verify the story one way or the other. 

Obviously, no cameras were directed at the fitting room stalls. But they did show the fitting room entrance, and they showed that the whole time the three of us were inside, the woman was out browsing on the floor.

The woman’s story disproven, the police went over and explained to her that making false accusations of this matter is extremely serious and that all evidence disproved her story. 

She broke down crying and sobbing that nobody believed she’d been violated. 

At this point, the police told my best friend and me that we were free to go. We checked out and skedaddled out of there. And then, we indulged in some ice cream therapy at a shop near the mall.

We used to have a separate line for walk-ins and one for online orders. Since we are in lockdown at the moment, we have switched to 100% online orders and we only allow people in who have an order number.

A customer walks in and comes right up to the counter. She’s also not wearing a mask — a legal requirement at this time.

Customer: “I have an online order to pick up, number 311.”

Me: “Ma’am, please put on your mask. The line for order pick-ups starts outside and we will call you in when it is ready. It looks like your order will be ready in nine minutes.”

Customer: *Not moving, not putting on a mask* “No, I made an online order. Online. I don’t wait.”

Me: “Everyone has made an online order, ma’am. We don’t do walk-ins at the moment, so we only have the one line. Please put on your mask and enter the line.”

The customer looks at the line, then at me, and then at all the staff.

Customer: “This is discrimination! This is discrimination and I will not have it!”

Me: “Ma’am?”

Customer: “Making the white lady wait for her order while all the Black people get served first! I see how it is!”

I notice the line of three people inside the store happens to be made up of all Black people, entirely a coincidence.

Me: “Ma’am, that’s just the way the line is. Everyone is waiting their turn, so if you could—”

Customer: “No! This is discrimination and this is disgusting! The news said this would start to happen!”

She storms out, and we hope she just joined the line and will have a rant on social media or something. We are very wrong.

She later storms back into the store, still with no mask but with a couple of police officers!

Customer: “That’s them, officers! You need to arrest them for hate crimes!”

The officers look at us and seem to be intelligent enough to surmise the situation. They talk to us, get our explanation, and then finally turn back to the fuming customer.

Officer: “Ma’am, it seems that all you were told to do was wait in line. These workers here even offered the security footage to confirm their version of events, and usually when that kind of evidence is offered, it’s because it’s going to help them. Can you explain, once again, why you feel you have been the victim of a hate crime here?”

Customer: “They asked me to get in line!”

Officer: “And?”

Customer: “I never have to get in line!” 

Officer: “And?”

Customer: “Well… I am feeling discriminated against!”

Officer: “That’s it?”

Customer: “Well… I was the only white customer!”

Officer: “Okay, well, ma’am, what you experienced wasn’t a hate crime or discrimination. I believe it’s called ‘waiting your d*** turn’. You’re lucky I don’t fine you for wasting police time. My partner and I are going to leave now, and you’re going to apologize to these nice workers and buy your sandwich in peace.”

The customer mumbles an apology but leaves without picking up her sandwich.

Officer: *To me* “I’ve seen hate crimes. That woman just didn’t get her way for the first time in her privileged little life and didn’t like it one bit. Call us if she comes back and wants to make a scene.”

Me: “Thank you, officers!”

Luckily for us, she didn’t come back. I got to eat her discrimination sandwich.

Related:
You’ve Lived A Privileged Life If You Think THIS Is Discrimination, Part 3
You’ve Lived A Privileged Life If You Think THIS Is Discrimination, Part 2
You’ve Lived A Privileged Life If You Think THIS Is Discrimination

Some people are so entitled that their worldview collapses when they’re not getting their way for the first time ever. You can see it happening again in these 10 Shocking Stories About The Most Entitled Customers Ever!

When I was in college, my roommate and I decided to drive over to his parents’ house for a few hours. On the way, the state was working on bridges and overpasses in an area. They funneled all traffic into a single-lane (instead of two) cattle chute each way and kept it that way for some distance, rather than deal with multiple merges.

We were in the middle of that, chugging along at the posted speed limit with my roommate driving, and a cream Cadillac whipped up behind us, tailgating ferociously. We got off that bridge, and the Caddy dove out through the barrier barrels, scattering them all over, flipped us off as he passed, and swerved back in, scattering more barrels.

Roommate: *Muttering* “Why is there never a cop—”

Then, he suddenly jerked up, looking in the mirror. We dropped out the end of the cattle chute, we pulled to the right, and four or five cops whipped past on our left.

A few miles down the road, there was the cream Caddie again, surrounded by cops and cop cars, with the driver out performing a field sobriety check.

Apparently, he failed, because when we came through on our way back several hours later, the cops were gone, but the Cadillac was still there.