(I am working in the fitting room. I have just finished helping out a customer. She was obnoxious with me in another part of the clothing department over the quality of our activewear line. She and her daughter have finally come out of the fitting room.)

Me: *bracing myself while still keeping my happy, helpful spirit* “Did everything work out, ladies?”

Customer: *fake smiles as she sets a small pile of yoga pants down on the counter* “Not really.” *leans on the counter and reads off my nametag* “Oh, [My Name], could you put these on hold for me, please? You know how to put something on hold, right?”

(Her daughter is quickly embarrassed. Meanwhile, I am offended by this, considering she is not only insulting my capabilities, but she is also talking to me in a baby tone of voice. I’m assuming it is because I look like a teenager, so I just let it slide for the time being.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I can take care of that for you. Can I get your name, please?”

Customer: “My name is [Customer]. Oh, could you do me a favor, [My Name]? Could you please write the word ‘important’ next to that and underline it a few times, so everyone will know not to put it back on the floor until I come to pick it up tomorrow?”

Me: *looks at her oddly* “Um, yeah, sure thing.”

Customer: “Well, it’s just that I have trouble at your other stores when I put things on hold. So, again, just put it down that I’m an important customer at your store, if that’s not asking too much.”

Me: *laughs awkwardly* “Nope. Not at all.”

(I did happen to inform her that my store will only hold items until the store closes. In some cases, we will hold something for 24 hours, but otherwise, I can only hold her stuff until we closed.)

Customer: “Well, I’m not going to leave and come back. I can’t buy these today, so you’ll just have to hold them until tomorrow. I can always talk to your supervisor if there is a problem.” *smirks at me*

Me: *faking a smile at this point* “No need. I’ll just go ahead and extend it until eight pm tomorrow. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Customer: “Actually, there is. What’s your name again, sweetie?” *proceeds to read my nametag for fifth time* “Oh, [My Name], if you are here tomorrow, can you make sure that my hold stays back here and doesn’t get put back? It has to stay back here until I pick up my daughter after school. If it’s put back when I come in, I’m going to have to tell your manager that you put it away, so don’t put it away, okay?”

Me: *eye twitches* “Sure thing. It’ll be back here waiting for you. No problem.”

Customer: *smirks at her daughter, then at me* “All right, thanks, [My Name]. I’ll be looking for you tomorrow. You’ll be back here, right?”

Me: *teeth clenching* “It’s a possibility.”

Customer: *turns to leave finally* “Okay, sweetie. I’ll keep an eye out!”

Me: *takes a deep, calming breath to keep from screaming*

(Her hold was back in the fitting room for an additional day after fighting with me to extend it once more. The day after, my coworker put it back after I left a note at the fitting room with a warning about the crazy lady customer. She showed up moments after and was way more rude to him than she was to me. At least I warned him ahead of time about what he would be expecting.)

(My genetic disability makes any form of physical activity, even just walking, difficult. Most days I can get around in short bursts of energy and willpower, but I do have a handicap parking pass for “bad days” or “flare-ups.” When I go to pick up a prescription at my local pharmacy, I take the farthest handicap spot, still trying to be considerate of others while recognizing my limitations. My mother comes along because I was just released from the hospital a few hours ago. A woman sees me get out of my car and shouts:)

Woman: “Hey! You ain’t handicapped! Hey! B****, you ain’t handicapped!”

Me: *to my mother* “Just walk.”

(The woman approaches us directly before we reach the crosswalk. She looks us both over and crosses her arms.)

Woman: “You don’t look handicapped.”

Mom: “Well, you don’t look like a dumb c***, but I guess we’re both wrong.”

(The woman stands there, dumbfounded, before stalking ahead of us into the store. I’ve never heard my mother say so much as, “d***,” so I am probably more shocked than the other woman.)

Me: “Mom! What?! What just happened?!”

Mom: “Nobody has the right to talk to you like that.”

(I work in a small specialty mall store, and my manager is awesome. Cell phones aren’t a thing yet, so we are very eager to help anyone and otherwise find ways to amuse ourselves. One day, a super-important-type comes in looking for a blacklight for his kid. The guy is an a**hole the entire half-hour I deal with him, and then I get to ring him up for his purchase.)

Me: “That’ll be [amount].” *extends hand for payment*

Customer: *throws a couple bills at me, deliberately under my outstretched hand, not saying anything*

Me: *digging for change; looks over at manager*

Manager: *nods in the affirmative*

Me: *throws change at rude guy* “Here’s your bag! Have a great day, and thanks for shopping with us!”

Manager: *laughing, walks to the back*

(I’m at work and the store is about to close in fifteen minutes. I have this couple come to my till a few minutes before closing.)

Me: “Hi! All ready to check out?”

(I start scanning items.)

Wife: “Uh… Wait, my husband’s cart got stolen.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I start checking out the other customers. The wife returns with her husband and his cart with over A THOUSAND ITEMS.)

Me: “…” *begins checking them out*

Couple: *argues over which frame to buy*

(I was the only cashier on the floor along with my supervisor. They left fifty minutes AFTER the store had ALREADY closed.)

(I’m the assistant manager in a discount clothing and housewares store in Colorado. We get trucks every day except Sunday. We have a girl in our stock team who only works once a month, as she has a full-time desk job. She is very lazy, unprofessional, and sometimes downright insubordinate. She also tries to sit down or lean as much as she can, and she cusses quite often. I get called to the stock room on this morning.)

Stock Lead: “[Coworker] says she needs to leave at noon today.”

(This coworker has been scheduled from 8:45 am to 1:00 pm.)

Me: “[Coworker], you’re scheduled until 1:00 pm. We need you to fulfill your shift.”

Coworker: “No one told me that I had to be here until one. [Store Manager] only told me the time to come in.”

Me: “It is not our job to tell you what time you work. It is your responsibility to know when you need to come in and when you need to leave.”

Coworker: “Well, I have my other job to go to at 12:30.”

Me: *not wanting to argue* “Okay, just this once, you can leave early. But please do be more careful and considerate of your schedule next time.”

(She rolls her eyes and says nothing. An hour later, I ask her to cover a break in the fitting room, to which she agrees. Towards the end of said break, she calls me back there.)

Coworker: “My mom is here, and she wants me to go to lunch with her and my sister.”

Me: “Okay?”

Coworker: “Can I go?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but you have to work more than five hours in order to get a thirty-minute lunch break. You’re only working three hours and fifteen minutes today, so all you would get is a fifteen-minute break.”

Coworker: “You have to work five hours to get thirty minutes off? That’s a bunch of bulls***.”

(Keep in mind, we are standing in the fitting room and there are plenty of customers around, although no one reacts.)

Me: “[Coworker], please watch your language on the sales floor.”

Coworker: “Why do I have to work five hours?”

Me: “It’s Colorado law. You must work at least five hours before you can get a lunch break.”

Coworker: “Well… What if I went to lunch and come back right after?”

Me: “I thought you had to leave at noon to go to your other job?”

Coworker: “But I would come back.”

(This goes on for a few rounds. I don’t understand what she means when she says she’ll come back right after lunch, considering earlier she made a big deal about leaving to go to her other job. Finally, we come to a conclusion.)

Coworker: “F*** it! Just f****** forget it!”

(She clocked out at 12:45 and told me it would be her last day working. I told her I wished her well in life, and that she needed to contact the store manager. A month or so later, I was making the schedule with my manager and noticed this employee was still on the roster. I reminded my manager that she quit, and she called the employee just to be safe. The coworker said that I had fired her on that day, and she was just waiting for a call from the store manager so she could get her final paycheck.)