I am a manager at a coffee shop. We usually have little change in the register as most customers pay with credit cards — especially in the morning, as a safeguard to reduce the temptation of stealing it. In my country, we have the right to deny the use of larger bills if we cannot give change back or if it will be a huge liability for the business to accept it — like if we’ll have no change left for the next customer.

I had a customer come in the early hours and order a small black coffee. He then proceeded to hand me the largest bill we have. I could see he had a ton of lower bills and his card as he was picking this bill from a pile of lower bills.

Me: “Sir, would you mind paying with a smaller bill?”

Customer: “It’s my right to pay with this bill!”

Me: *In my best customer service voice* “It would be impossible for me to accept that bill as I wouldn’t have any change left in the register.”

He was adamant and stood his ground.

This is a usual technique used by some people in hopes that I will just say, “Screw it,” and give them the coffee for free. This wasn’t the first time this customer had done this, either.

Me: “I’ll have to go to the exchange automat here in the mall to change it.”

Customer: *Annoyed* “Fine.”

What he didn’t know is that, in the early hours, almost every shop in the mall is at this automat to exchange their bills to have enough change for the day. I spent twenty minutes in a line before I got his change.

This dude waited in total almost thirty minutes for a cup of joe because he decided to use his biggest bill and refused to pay otherwise.

I work in a hotel. When I got to work on Sunday, my manager told me that inventory was shut off because housekeeping needed to catch up from the weekend — we are crazy short-staffed. I was working alone, but Sundays are usually slow, so it was okay. All shift, I had people walking in or calling trying to book a room and I had to tell them all that we had no rooms available. One lady called a few times and was NOT having it.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Hotel]. This is [My Name]; how can I help you?

Lady: “Hey, do you have availability for tonight?”

Me: “Unfortunately, we do not have any more rooms to sell tonight.”

Lady: “UNBELIEVABLE!”

She hung up. I got a second phone call forty-five minutes later and gave my intro.

Lady: “Hi. My husband is a member. Can I make a reservation for tonight?”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but due to staffing issues, we had to close our inventory for the night, so I have no rooms available.”

Lady: “What do you mean? My husband is a member, and you can’t make me a reservation?”

Me: “No, I can’t.”

She hung up again. I got a third call twenty minutes later and gave my intro again.

Lady: “Hi. Are you the manager?”

Me: “I’m not, but I’m the only one here tonight, so what can I do for you?”

Lady: “Well, when I talked to you earlier, you said you had no rooms available due to no housekeepers, but I’m in front of your building right now and I only see seven cars! How are you filled up for the night? My husband is a member!”

Me: “Housekeeping worked all day today to clean enough rooms for the reservations we already had for today. So, unfortunately, I have no other clean rooms.”

Lady: “This is ridiculous! You should have extra rooms available for your members! What is your manager’s name?!”

Me: “[Manager]. She’ll be here at 8:00 am tomorrow.”

Lady: “Oh, no. I’m calling corporate.”

She hung up again. I left out a lot of her ranting, but MAN, this woman was wild. I couldn’t even make her a reservation if I wanted to; the computer literally wouldn’t let me. And why do people think being a member means anything? All it takes to be a member is to give us your email and zip code. I’m just glad she called from her car and didn’t come talk to me at the front desk.

I’ve worked for a woodworking company since I was eighteen. Across from my company is a [Coffee Shop], and every morning and lunch I go there to eat. It’s also where a lot of my friends work.

It’s right at the height of the health crisis, my company is closed, and I’m stuck on a schedule: wake up, go to [Coffee Shop], eat, and that would be the time I would go to work. Now, I just chill at [Coffee Shop] and help out since they were my first job when I was sixteen. This goes on for a week.

I’m exhausted from working at [Coffee Shop]. It’s very different from woodworking; I forgot about that. I’m meditating in one of the lounge chairs they have in the lobby. Then, a woman walks in, places her order, and comes over to me.

Woman: “You can’t be sleeping here. You have to go.”

I am already out of f***s at this point.

Me: “Who are you?”

Woman: “Just get out of the store.”

Me: “No, I don’t have to.”

Woman: “Homeless people aren’t allowed in the store.”

Me: “First—

Woman: “You vagrant! I’m sleeping with the owner. I can call the police and have you removed!”

Me: “Go for it.”

The woman called the police and then told them I’d attacked her. The police came, and before anyone could say anything, my best friend — who is also the owner and loves to be a jerk when presented with the chance — told the police, loudly enough that everyone in the store could hear him, that he thought that the woman was prostituting herself around the [Coffee Shop] property. The woman went white as the police started questioning her. I thought that was it.

It wasn’t.

The woman had a warrant out for her arrest for identity theft, and when they searched her, they found several cards and IDs with other people’s names on them. It was perfect.

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I work at a gas station. This has been an ongoing problem I didn’t notice until last night. There’s a regular who comes in frequently but usually at times I’m too busy to really pay him any mind. I’ve noticed him go into the casino multiple times — our gas station is one of those that have a lottery room — but again, I’m busy at those times so I don’t think much of it.

You have to be twenty-one to even go in there. You can’t just go through it to come in and out of the store if you’re under twenty-one.

Last night, the regular and a friend — an older guy I know is over twenty-one — came in right before we locked up; we were supposed to close in two minutes. The regular made a beeline for the casino. I had only these two in the store, so I actually noticed that he had a pretty young face and didn’t look old enough. Sure enough, after an ID check, he wasn’t even out of his teens. I made him leave after explaining that he had to be twenty-one or over to be in there.

I came in today and explained to my manager, and I learned from her and a coworker that this regular frequently sneaks in and lies about his age or says the owner said it’s cool. Nope.

He came in later today. He bought some soda, and I crossed paths with him on his way to the casino as I was heading out to the main floor.

Me: “Sir, you can’t go in there.”

Regular: “I’m just leaving.”

Me: “You have to use the main doors. Our store doesn’t allow you to even enter the lottery room to go in and out of the store if you’re not twenty-one.”

He just ignored me.

Now, I had to keep my eyes out for him to make sure he wasn’t sneaking in. I decided to talk to my manager because, if he keeps doing this, I think it’s best we stop selling to him until he understands he’s not above the rules. We’ve agreed that if I catch him again, I should inform her, and that I am to inform him that if he keeps it up, we will be calling the police. I don’t know how he’ll react, but I know I sure as h*** wouldn’t want to risk the fines — apparently, they range from $500 to $1,000 just for underage gambling, and trespassing has a wider range — and potentially thirty days sitting in jail.

I work for a bed and breakfast, and with the breakfast part, we occasionally get unusual requests, mostly dietary restrictions or preferences — no mushrooms in the frittatas, gluten-free, etc. — but we had a wild one yesterday.

After a breakfast was delivered, the guest called the front desk, outraged.

Guest: “My biscuits with butter and jam only came with two biscuits. And you didn’t put butter on my cinnamon roll before you put frosting on it!”

Butter. On a frosted cinnamon roll.

Me: “We have butter down here if you want it.”

She stormed down to get it only to complain that the butter was “too cold!”

I get personal preferences. I eat cereal dry because the thought of soggy sugar milk for breakfast is not appealing, but I would never expect someone to know my personal taste without telling them. But butter on a cinnamon roll? Who does that?