A tourist couple — I am guessing American based on the accents — is ordering their food with me.

Me: “And can I get you some tap water?”

Tourist #1: “Oh, bottled, please. We don’t want to risk drinking the local water.”

Me: “The local water is potable, ma’am. I drink it every day myself.”

Tourist #2: “Yes, well, you’re a local. Your body is immune to the dirty water, but we’re not.”

I am about to take offense to our water being called dirty, but then again, they’re asking to pay for bottled water out of stupidity instead of drinking it for free, so I shut up and bring them their Scottish spring mineral waters.

As I am walking away to put in their food orders: 

Tourist #1: “What? You’re not going to give us any ice?”

I work in customer support for a company that supplies IT software to other IT companies, including anti-malware (otherwise known as anti-virus) applications. For the laymen among you, malware is a catch-all term for viruses, trojans, worms, and all those nasty things that mess up your computer.

I get a customer from the USA on our live chats asking for assistance with a threat detection that the anti-malware system has picked up. I recognise the detected threat as another one of our anti-malware programs. I inform the customer of a fact that is usually considered pretty common knowledge in IT circles.

Me: “We strongly recommend that you do not run two anti-malware programs on the same device as they will interfere with each other. That’s what’s happened here.”

Customer: “Okay. But how many malware programs can I run?”

Me: “Ideally zero?”

My manager loves my diplomatic responses.

Continuing the recent theme of amazing insults from old Scottish women, I overheard this amazing encounter years ago.

A customer is giving grief to a young girl at the checkout in a petrol station/small grocery shop. She couldn’t have been much older than sixteen, and this guy was really angry with her.

Customer: “What do you mean you stupid b****!? I need [premium fuel] for my engine! I’s a f****** Mercedes, I’m not putting that cheap s*** in it!”

Cashier: *Obviously upset and nervous.* “I’m sorry, sir, but [premium fuel] is restocked on Fridays, so we’re—”

Customer: “I don’t f****** care when it’s stocked! I need it f****** now!”

There is an older lady behind this total a*se of a customer and she taps him on the shoulder.

Old Lady: “Calm down! You’re making a fool of yourself and this poor girl doesn’t need to see it!”

The customer turns on the old lady and glares at her. I am looking at her for the first time myself and I realise that she’s tiny, she’s standing tall and confident, but she also has a small tube going into her nose and a small oxygen tank in her bag. This woman is ill but she’s standing her ground.

Customer: “Shut your trap you old bat. The only reason that you’re alive is because of the taxes I pay.”

Old Lady: “And the only reason that you’re alive is because your mom didn’t have nice enough t*ts to finish on! Now either pay for the petrol they do have or drive f****** anywhere else but whatever you choose – leave this poor girl alone!”

I stifle a laughter. This huge angry man continues to glare but it’s obvious he can’t win a battle of wits with this old sickly lady.

He then slams a £20 note on to the counter and storms out to fill up his tank. The old lady places some small grocery items on the counter, and the young girl at the checkout gives her the staff discount. A younger woman walks up and takes the arm of the older lady:

Other Woman: “Honestly, mam, I can’t take you anywhere.”

And off they go like nothing had happened. I completely forgot what I had gone into the shop to buy.

Related:
Never Pick A Fight With An Old Scottish Woman, Part 2
Never Pick A Fight With An Old Scottish Woman
Tell Me You’re In Scotland Without Telling Me You’re In Scotland
Nothin’ Like A Good Old Existential Meltdown

Apparently, booking a seat on a train is not a real booking if someone else decides to sit there. I was travelling from Edinburgh to London by train and had a booked window seat with a table.

I got on the train to find four guys sitting at the table. The one in my seat — which was clearly marked as booked — refused to move as he was with his friends, and the train was packed. The ticket collector passed and I asked him to help.

He asked the guy to move, but he refused, and somehow, that was that.

Me: “So, what now?”

Ticket Collector: “You can find another seat, but I have no power to move him. Only the police can move him, and they will not turn up just to move someone out of a seat.”

There were no seats free in the carriage and probably not many free on the train, so standing all the way to London was a possibility.

Me: “I’m going to take a seat in first class.”

Better surroundings, power sockets, and free tea and coffee!

Ticket Collector: “You can’t sit there; you don’t have a booking.”

Me: “Well, you could call the police to move me, but apparently, they won’t turn up to move someone out of a seat.”

I had a lovely trip with power for my laptop and a wide, comfy seat.

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I overheard a female coworker berating a male coworker about being a total a**hole. (He wasn’t.) She decided to insert the fact that he drove a beater.

Male Coworker: “You really think that your car is a measure of your personality?”

Female Coworker: “Absolutely!”

Male Coworker: “I didn’t realize you drove your c**t to work.”

I lost it. No composure kept.