I am late for a meeting at work because my train had to be diverted due to an accident on the tracks. I am about an hour late when I make it in. I walk into the room and see my colleague looking exhausted and a woman I don’t know eating a piece of toast.

Colleague: “Oh, there she is now.”

Woman: “Okay!”

She gets up while still eating and leaves.

Me: “Sorry I’m late. You… both look a bit rough?”

Colleague: *Pointing to the door* “She just spent the last forty-five minutes telling us she had severe Coeliac disease while eating two loaves of toast and six croissants.”

Me: “Oh… All gluten?”

Colleague: “All gluten.”

We expected to hear something during the day, but there was nothing. The woman even popped in at the end of her shift to greet me formally, happy as Larry.

It’s safe to say there will be some in that office dubious about her disease.

I used to work at a local shop that sold ice cream, and to this day, I cannot figure out this woman’s logic or brain when it came to her orders. Every ice cream flavour was labelled, but she came in several times for the following scenario to take place.

Customer: “Hello. I’d like raspberry ripple, please!”

Me: “Raspberry ripple?”

At this point, I hold the scoop over the flavour for all customers to double-check that I’ve heard correctly and in case they read the label above or below by accident.

Customer: “Yes, please!”

Me: “And is that a cone or a tub?”

Customer: “Cone, please.”

I start scooping the chosen ice cream onto a cone, and she waits until I’m finished.

Customer: “Oh! Sorry! I meant strawberry.”

She pointed to the ice cream on the opposite side of the one she initially chose.

Luckily, this was in the summer, so I shoved the cones at the bottom of the freezer behind the till to offer to coworkers later. But there were times when, because of this customer, they were just binned.

She did this several times to my coworkers and me, and none of us understood. She didn’t get anything free; she just wasted our time and her own. But at least we occasionally got free ice cream! Unless she changed her mind last minute. But I’d understand that happening once, but not every time she comes in. 

Related:
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 23
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 22
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 21
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 20
Some People Just Want To Watch The World Burn, Part 19

Continuing the great line of stories here about terrifying Scottish women, I am out shopping with my grandmother at the garden center to help her pick some nice plants for her garden.

My grandmother is a lovely woman to lovely people, but absolutely brutal to anyone who would cross her and those she loves. She once said to a classmate of her grandson who was bullying him for being gay that he was just jealous and that “his only chance of getting laid was to crawl up a chicken’s a*se and wait.” Do NOT p*ss her off.

We are looking at some plants that require less maintenance (as she is getting on in years, but like all Scottish women will outlive us all) and we overhear a customer ranting at a poor retail worker.

Customer: “No, you idiot! I told you I wanted succulents! Succulents! Stop wasting my time with these cactus!”

Clerk: “Sorry, sir, like I explained we don’t have any succulents in stock at the moment.”

Customer: “Then you’re useless as well as stupid, aren’t you?”

That’s it. Grandma has engaged.

Grandma: “Haud yer wheesht you f***in’ tube!” *Translation: “Shut up you f****** idiot!”*

Customer: “F*** off you old crone!”

Grandma: “I might not be an expert on cactuses, but I know a prick when I see one.”

The manager has arrived because of the commotion. The customer notices.

Customer: “Are you going to let her speak to me like that?!”

My manager takes one look at my grandmother and then back at the customer.

Manager: “Sir, I think I am going to let her speak however she wants.”

Customer: “Useless! The lot of you!”

The customer storms off and my manager turns to my grandmother.

Manager: “That was amazing madam! But for the record, the plural of cactus is cacti.”

Grandma just stares at the manager with the dead eyes of a great white shark.

Manager: “…cactuses can also work!”

Old Lady: “I’ll take three.”

Related:
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

A manager I used to work under is in the office today for a meeting. I’m in the conference room with him chatting. He sees my coworker coming in and tells me he’s about to start his meeting. [Coworker] comes in, and before I can stand up, she begins this tirade against me, spouting bile left, right, and centre about how I’m incompetent, I’m the reason the company as a whole (not just this office) is failing, and I need to be replaced immediately to prevent further damage. I try to interrupt, but [Manager] gives me a look that tells me to keep quiet.

It takes about ten minutes before [Coworker] shuts up, and she begins shouting before the end. She makes references to several moments, during most of which I wasn’t even at the office — for some, I was actually working with [Manager] at the time. I’m honestly shell-shocked by the experience.

Manager: “Okay, I will take that under advisement. I thought this meeting was for your expenses?”

Coworker: *Going red* “But why—”

Manager: “[My Name] and I were just catching up. I think it’s best we reschedule.”

He said goodbye to me and left. [Coworker] just stared at his seat. I left her there and went back to my office. [Coworker] came into my office the morning after and told me that if she lost her job, it was my fault.

She didn’t lose her job, but several meetings followed, and she now reports to [Manager] directly for something I’m not related to, while I was given her responsibilities and my wages were raised to be on par with hers.

Thankfully, I don’t see her much anymore, but when I do, she stares daggers at me.

I am stocking produce in our imported tropical fruits section. Each fruit has a sticker showing where it comes from. A customer approaches, waving a mango menacingly. It has a sticker on it showing it comes from the Caribbean.

Customer: “Why aren’t these grown locally?! I don’t want to support foreign countries!”

Me: “We have to import the mangoes, sir.”

Customer: “I want locally-sourced mangoes!”

Me: “Tropical mangoes, grown locally?”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: “In Scotland? In November?”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: “We… can’t do that.”

Customer: “Why not?!”

Me: “You… can’t grow tropical fruit in cold climates.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t want it, then!”

He then picks up a pineapple and sees that it comes from Costa Rica.

Customer: “Why aren’t these grown locally?!”

Me: “…”