(I work at a popular toy store in my town, and the new collection of Star Wars toys just came out. The store is very busy today and we have run out of stock for a few items. Due to their pretty high price, we didn’t expect them to sell as quickly. Most people who want them are understanding, but there’s one customer who has become a regular, and a very unpopular one, at that. She always targets the new employees, it seems, never attacking the same employee twice. Sadly, I end up on that shift.)

Customer: “Do you have any more of the [out of stock toy]?”

Me: “I’m sorry. We ran out about an hour ago. We have another store in [City about four minutes away], or we will be getting a new shipment in tonight and you could pick it up tomorrow.”

Customer: “How dare you refuse me service?! It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?!”

Me: “No, ma’am, I would not discriminate. The item is out of stock at this store. Again, you can—”

Customer: “You racist b****! How dare you?! I am going to get you fired!”

Me: “I do not see how I am—”

Customer: “Don’t you back talk me! Respect your elders, you racist b****!”

(I’m in a bit of a panic, not really sure what I am supposed to do or say. I reach for my walkie-talkie. I quickly realize that was a bad idea.)

Customer: “DON’T YOU DARE!” *the customer suddenly lunges at me* “DON’T YOU DARE ASSAULT ME WITH YOUR WEAPONS!”

(Luckily, an off duty cop was there to pick up a toy for his son. He pulled the woman off of me and arrested her right there. I was actually the first person attacked by her. I found out later she usually just screamed at the employee to the point of tears. Everyone still jokes about how I was taken down over a child’s toy, and how I ended up with a sprained wrist.)

(Sacramento is pretty LGBT-friendly and the community I live in is somewhat known for LGBT couples. I, however, am a heterosexual cis female homeowner. One day a rather cutely-dressed girl rings my doorbell. She starts a sales pitch for a carpet-cleaning service. I try to let door-to-door salespeople down easy. I gesture to the floor she can see, which is a vinyl plank floor that looks like wood.)

Me: “Sorry, I don’t have any carpeting. Thanks.”

Salesgirl: “Oh, we don’t do just carpeting.”

(She then begins the sales pitch for furniture cleaning. And now I’m done. I cut into her speech.)

Me: “No, thanks.”

(She continues to try at another angle, listing other items for cleaning.)

Me: “No. Thank you.”

(I go to shut the door on her. She strikes a pose and pouts.)

Salesgirl: “But don’t you think I’m cute?”

(I’m floored. I’m completely dumbstruck.)

Me: “Yes, but no, thanks.”

(I did think she was a cute girl, but just because she’s cute doesn’t mean I’m going to buy a floor cleaning service!)

(I work full-time overnight, 9:00 pm to 6:00 am, stocking at a large superstore that sells everything in bulk. I have done so for the last six years with no attendance or disciplinary issues. However, during the day I also have a part-time job which I love and where I want to have career. In June, I was offered a promotion at my day job, and at that time informed my overnight job manager that I may have to cut my hours at the store down to part-time. He assured me that it was no problem; I just needed to give him notice. It is now September.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager], you know how I said I might cut down to part-time? It’s time. I was just offered this great opportunity to run a program at my day job, and I need to cut down from working five nights per week to working four.”

Manager: “That’s great. What night do you need off?”

Me: “Friday nights. I already have Wednesday and Thursday nights off, and I’ll keep those the same if it’s easiest, but I have to have Friday nights and Saturday mornings off so that I can run this program. It’s really important. I can work the next three Fridays, though. Is that okay?”

Manager: “Sure, no problem. It should be fine. I’ll just check the schedule.”

(I work that Friday as usual and catch up with him a week later.)

Me: “How’s the schedule? Is everything set?”

Manager: “I haven’t had a chance to check the schedule yet, but I’ll do it as soon as possible. I’m really busy right now.”

Me: “Okay, but I can only work this Friday and the next.”

Manager: “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it.”

(I work another Friday, and another week passes. I talk to him again before I work my last Friday, and he once again assures me that even though he has not yet “had a chance to check the schedule,” it’ll be fine. The schedule never changes to reflect this, however, so I go to him one last time on Tuesday night before I’m supposed to take my first three-day weekend.)

Me: “Hey, is everything set for me to take my first Friday off?”

Manager: “Oh, [My Name]. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I checked the schedule. There is no way that you can take Friday off. We have too many people scheduled off that night, and I would have to change four or five people around to get us coverage. It wouldn’t be fair to everyone else. You understand, right? So, I’ll see you Friday, okay?”

Me: “What do you mean? You said it was okay. I’ve already accepted this offer from my other job because you said it was okay. I cannot work on Friday.”

Manager: “Well, I hadn’t checked the schedule then, so I didn’t know. Besides, your official availability doesn’t say that, so I need you to be here.”

Me: “I’m not coming in on Friday. You gave me permission, I agreed to this opportunity because you said you would change the schedule, and I will not back out of my promise to my day job. I guess I’ll just have to call in sick on Fridays until you fire me, because I will not be coming in.”

(I kept my promise. After a couple of weeks, he realized I was serious and changed the schedule so that I had Fridays off. Only one person was inconvenienced: the new guy who had started two months prior. I left that job a few months later.)

(I am working in a call center.)

Me: “Sir, that email address is [address]. They will be able to assist you from there.”

Customer: “Are there any spaces in that email? I want to make sure it goes through.”

Me: “No, sir. There are no spaces.”

Customer: “Great. I’ll send the email right now!”

(I take two more calls and the next one is the first caller again.)

Customer: “Yeah, some idiot told me there were spaces in an email, and it didn’t go through. I want to speak with your manager; this is unacceptable.”

Me: “Sir, you were speaking with me, and I told you there were no spaces.”

Customer: “I didn’t expect to get you again!” *click*

(I am manning the register soon after opening one morning. A customer makes a small purchase and offers a $100 bill to pay.)

Me: *politely* “Do you have a smaller bill, or would you like to pay with another form of payment? The change for this purchase would take a large portion of the paper money in the till.”

Customer: *smug* ” No, I want to break this bill; it is legal tender, you know.”

(I politely agree, and begin counting out fives and ones. This does not please the customer.)

Customer: “No! I want larger bills!”

Me: “I am sorry, sir; I do not have any larger bills. These are legal tender, you know.”

Customer: “Oh, never mind! I’ll pay with my credit card!”

(I politely informed him that he couldn’t do that, as the till was already open for a cash sale. The customer left, angrily stuffing the mass of bills into his wallet. I just smiled my best polite smile.)