Right Working Romantic Related Learning Friendly Healthy Legal Inspirational Unfiltered
A collection of stories curated from different subreddits, adapted for NAR.

The Purple-Haired Plot Thickens!

, , , , , | Right | CREDIT: Why_Not_Two | January 25, 2023

I went to my nearby supermarket to grab a few things since I had a few days off work. While I was there, a lady came storming up to me. At first, I didn’t notice that she was staring me down as I saw her out of the corner of my eye, so I stepped forward to let her pass. Of course, she didn’t want to get past me; she wanted me.

She was clearly annoyed about something.

Lady: *Abruptly* “Why has this gone up to £10?”

She was holding up some sort of cleaning product.

Me: *Puzzled* “I’m not sure. I guess the store felt like raising the price?”

She huffed at me, not happy with my answer.

Lady: “Can you check the back of the store for the [specific scent] [Cleaning Product]?”

I was a bit oblivious to the fact that she thought I worked there.

Me: *Sheepishly* “Like, in the store room? I don’t think I can just walk in there.”

Her mouth dropped open.

Lady: “Why can’t you? I’m asking you to do something; I expect you to do it!”

I finally clocked on to the idea that she thought I was an employee, despite the fact that I was wearing a galaxy-print snapback hat over my purple hair, green jeans, and a hoodie.

Me: “Oh. I don’t work here.”

This made her even angrier.

Lady: “So, it’s your day off? Can’t you just do this for me quickly?”

Me: “It is indeed my day off, but it’s my day off from [Pub] down the road.”

Now she looked as puzzled as I did.

Me: “I don’t actually work for this supermarket.”

She turned around and stormed off, looking a bit embarrassed, and I didn’t think much of it.

As I went down a different aisle to grab my last few bits, I spotted an actual employee… who was more or less the spitting image of me (if a bit taller and skinnier) with almost the exact same shade of purple hair! At that moment, it all made sense.

I rarely go to this particular shop, so I didn’t know my apparent doppelganger worked there. I spoke with him, and he told me that this lady was a somewhat frequent customer before heading to help her. She must have been used to seeing a purple-haired guy working there and assumed I was him off-shift.

Un-Beaver-lievable Bigotry

, , , | Right | CREDIT: silver_she | January 25, 2023

I’m from India. My close friend’s cousin lives in Texas, and my friend wanted to attend college there, so he thought he would go there and spend some time and get to know the place. Mind you, this was just before the lockdowns in 2020.

[Friend] flew to Texas and they imposed the lockdown. He decided that he would stay there and return once the situation got better. This is where the brown mindset comes into play. If someone you know is going to a foreign country, then they have to bring you back something as a souvenir, even if you could get the exact same thing in your local supermarket, because it is “foreign”.

[Friend] went to a very well-known store with a beaver for its mascot while on a video call with me, and we were happily shopping when this woman came up to him and asked where something was. He was not wearing anything similar to the uniform.

Friend: *Politely* “I don’t work here, ma’am.”

Woman: “You’re Black; you must work here.”

At that point, I started recording the call.

Woman: “You are helping a customer do her online shopping via video conference, so you are obviously an employee.”

(Is that even a thing?)

[Friend] didn’t know what to say and just stood there without saying anything. Then, the manager arrived.

Manager: “What is the problem here?”

Woman: “Your employee is not helping me and is prioritizing an online customer over me.”

Manager: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but he does not work here.”

Woman: “But—”

Manager: “You should have realized that when HE DIDN’T HAVE A GIANT BEAVER UP HIS BACK!”

The look on the woman’s face — oh, my God. I laughed so hard that people from India, Texas, and everywhere in between could’ve heard it.

Careful! He Might Give You A Lethally Ugly Haircut!

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: andrewkelly87 | January 24, 2023

This happened back in 2014 when I managed a small, locally-owned vape shop.

It’s been a long day, and my employee and I are cleaning up to close when the door opens. In walks this guy with a swagger the likes of which I will never forget. He’s clutching a brown paper bag and a small pair of pruning shears, holding these tight to his chest as if his life depends on their safety. As soon as he approaches the glass display cases, my employee and I both look at each other. We know that swagger: meth.

It’s hard to describe to someone who hasn’t been face-to-face with someone like this, but there’s this specific crab-walk they do when looking at things lower than torso height — dramatically bent knees, legs out to the sides, bouncing from side to side like a crustacean on a lethal dose of caffeine. [Guy] is looking through our product cases, crab-walking across them, pointing at random items, and repeating, “WAZZAT?! WAZZAT?! HOWMUCHIZZAT?! GIMMEDAT!”

I know better than to confront these people; they’re volatile and unpredictable. I keep my business face on and try to get through this ordeal as professionally as possible. He chooses a lanyard (for an old-style vape pen, clearly useless for him), and we go to the register. We’re watching this guy’s every little movement. My employee (relatively recently released from prison for, of all things, drug charges) is tense; he’s ready to fight.

And then, the reason for the visit was revealed. I know the hundred-dollar bill is a fake as soon as he pulls it out of the brown paper bag, but I play along and don’t immediately call him out. I do my normal big bill check, holding it up against the light to see a missing watermark and security strip. (We didn’t use counterfeit pens; that’s another story). Of course, it’s a fake.

Me: “Sorry, I can’t take this.” *Hands back the bill*

Guy: “WHY NOT?!”

Me: “It’s a fake.”

Guy: *Visibly enraged* “HOW DO YOU KNOW?!”

Me: “No security features; it’s fake.”

The guy points the pruning shears at me like a knife.


And that’s when I drop the mask. I break; this is too absurd. I can’t help but laugh in the face of this clearly deranged person. What is he going to do? Trim me and enter me into his neighborhood’s prettiest lawn contest?

Me: *Snorting with laughter* “No?”

He waves the pruning shears around… threateningly? 

Guy: “WELL, YOU’RE A F****** LIAR, THEN!”

He stomped away like a petulant child, kicking over an innocent trash can on his way out the door. We never saw him again, but legends say he’s still trying to get change for that fake Benjamin.

To Quote Gene Belcher, “IT’S NOT OKAY”

, , , , , | Right | CREDIT: hellicks | January 24, 2023

I’ve been working as a server or bartender since I was sixteen years old. I’ve gotten used to plenty of rude customers over the eight years I’ve been in this worksphere, but this one takes first place.

I recently quit working as a server — yay! — and started working from 11:00 am to 7:00 pm as a store clerk. The position is better paid and works better for me. I live in a small tourist town where most people know each other and there are A LOT of tourists during the summer. My brother has a restaurant that is open from mid-spring until early autumn. I help out whenever he needs it after I finish my other job at 7:00 pm.

Monday is a national holiday in my country, and the weekend is expected to be very busy. And it is. I can barely keep up with the tables I have, things are getting hectic in the kitchen, and it is really slow there.

I bring menus to two guys who have just been seated, and as I’m leaving their table to get to some other customers, one of the guys stops me and, with no intention of reading the menu, asks me:

Guy: “What beers do you have?”

Me: “They are all listed in the menu; you can see them there. I’ll be right back with you, sir, just one mo—”

Guy: “I ain’t reading that. JUST TELL ME WHAT BEERS YOU HAVE!”

Used to this kind of customer, I just explain what we have.

Guy: “Was it so hard to tell me? Bring me this one, and some fish and some fries.”

Me: “Sir, it’s very busy right now, and it’ll take at least forty minutes for the fries and the fish to be ready. Can I offer you some salads or something on the barbecue while the rest gets ready?”

Guy: “DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE WHO IS GONNA WAIT? My child will be here in ten minutes, and if the fish isn’t here, I WILL NOT BE PAYING!”

Me: *Getting irritated* “Sir, there are tons of other orders before you, and we cannot bring yours before that.”


Already fed up with everything, I cut him off.

Me: “Dude, first of all, you have no right to speak to me like that. Second, your order will not be ready in less than forty minutes because there are other customers before you and because I’m not going to serve you! Get out of here!”

I go to my other tables as I have three who are waiting to order, get their orders, and continue to do my job. I stop by the kitchen and let my brother know what’s going on.

Five minutes pass by, and this guy comes to the bar and asks to see the boss; my brother works as a chef every day, and this guy clearly knows him but not me.

Guy: “[Brother]! Your server says he doesn’t want to serve me! What is this?!”

Brother: “Yeah, that server is my brother, and you were in the wrong, acting like a jacka**.”

The guy’s mouth drops open wide.

Guy: “This is your brother, [Brother]? I’m so sorry. I didn’t know!” *To me* “Accept my apologies. I didn’t know you were his brother!”

Me: “Whatever. Just know you were in the wrong, no matter whether I was the owner’s brother or not.”

He stayed, and I had to serve him anyway. He was all apologetic for the rest of the night and left a decent tip.

I was fuming for the rest of the night because of that. Why does he think that it’s okay to be rude to the servers as long as they aren’t related to the owner? What the heck?

Too Bad Her Brain Isn’t At Maximum Occupancy

, , , | Right | CREDIT: MingTheKing97 | January 23, 2023

I’ve been working in the hotel industry for about four years now, and due to a good program and performance, I am already a duty manager. I’ve been interacting with a lot of fussy guests over the years who know that crying for the simplest things will get you freebies. But this one lady really got on our nerves.

It’s one of those days when we are almost sold out, and the upcoming days are either sold out or very tight, especially on the higher-category rooms. I’m there in the lobby in the late evening with just one arrival left for the day. It’s booked under the name of [Guest] and made for a basic-category room with an occupancy of two adults.

A car pulls up to the main porch, so I think, “Yay, the final arrival is here! I can just finish this off and chill for the rest of the shift.”

Oh, how wrong I am about to be.

Out of the car come two adults, three kids, a nanny, and a toddler, and — I am not exaggerating — eleven pieces of luggage.

I think this has to be some sort of canceled reservation and I am about to deal with telling a person who didn’t check his mail that we can’t honor his reservation. Nope, it’s [Guest].

Guest: “Hi. We would like to check-in. We are very tired.”

Me: “Of course, ma’am. Could you help me with your name and your reservations?”

Guest: “It’s just one reservation — under [Guest].”

Me: *Visibly confused* “But ma’am, this reservation is booked for only two people, and I can see that you are traveling with more than that.”

Guest: “Well, I spoke to your colleague, Mr. [Person], and he confirmed that I can just take your Prime Luxury Suite in the hotel on arrival. I see on the website that it can accommodate six people, so I want that. I spoke to Mr. [Person] working for you, and I want your Prime Suite as he said we can all fit in that. Go ahead and upgrade me.”

Me: “We have only one Prime Luxury Suite in the hotel, and it’s already sold out for the entire length of your stay, as this is the busy season. Also, we do not have anyone named Mr. [Person] that works for us.”

[Guest] explodes and starts screaming.

Guest: “You are so uncoordinated! Mr. [Person] does work for you, and he promised me that suite! I demand to speak to your duty manager!”

You are looking at him, crazy lady.

I finally told her basically that there was no way the room she’d booked could accommodate her entire clan and that she needed to book an extra room. Even doing this would mean that we’d have to oversell the hotel by a room for one of the days because of her, but I’d speak to higher management and get that done. After a lot of arguing and showing her the room, she finally reluctantly agreed, scoffing the entire time about how she was going to leave a bad review and so on.

Still, doing my job, I processed the new reservation and even gave her an interconnected set of rooms — two rooms with a door in between.

Over the course of her stay, she complained multiple times about laundry, food, and services to try and get as many freebies as possible, and as soon as she checked out, we decided to add her straight to the Do Not Rent list. We never got that bad review that she talked about, only bad vibes from her throughout the stay.