(I am a cashier in a large retail store. I have a line of three people come up all at once.)

Me: “Hi! How can I help you today?”

Customer #1: “Price check this dress.”

Me: “Sure thing!” *I price check it, which takes less than a minute* “Alrighty, this dress is $22.”

Customer: “Okay. Also, there was a white dress just like this one right next to it but it had a belt; this one doesn’t.”

Me: “Oh! Perhaps it got removed when someone was trying it on and got left behind by accident. It may still be in a dressing room, or maybe they brought it to accessories.”

Customer #1: “Um, so go get it?”

Me: “Well… I have a few other people in line behind you. My manager would chew me out if I just left people at the register and didn’t help them. I could call someone over to help you if you’d like!”

Customer #1: “Ugh. Never f****** mind. You guys are all so f****** lazy.” *she throws the dress down and stomps away*

(The next customer steps up.)

Customer #2: *loud enough so [Customer #1] can hear her* “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to waste your time to go get something for me if I could easily do it myself!”

(I have just started work as a cashier. An older woman comes through my checkout lane. We talk, and I ask her how her day is going, etc. I finally scan her rotisserie chicken through and it rings up $8.99. She gets all up in arms.)

Customer: “That is supposed to be $5.99.”

(I look at the chicken, and sure enough, in red it says $5.99. I apologize for my error and flip my light so my supervisor can come over to fix it, since I can’t void anything over a certain amount. Apparently, this doesn’t satisfy her.)

Customer: “No, I want it fixed now, or it won’t get done.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t do anyth—”

Customer: “You don’t talk to me like that! I’m the customer; you’re not! Now, fix it!”

Me: “Ma’am I honestly—”

Customer: “Stop talking! Stop! Fix it.”

(At this point, everyone in the store is watching, and I shoot a glance around for my supervisor.)

Customer: “Do you like your job? Do you want to keep your job? I’m calling corporate and you won’t have a job anymore. How’s that sound?”

(Finally my supervisor walks over.)

Supervisor: “I’m there a problem, ma’am?”

Customer: “That chicken is supposed to be $5.99, not $8.99. I want it fixed now, and she won’t do it!”

Supervisor: “That’s because she needs a manager to do it. I’ll get that fixed for you right away.”

(I walk away from my station to get a drink, thinking that when I get back she’ll be gone because the supervisor is handling it. Nope. She WAITS for me to come back so she can yell at me some more. I avoid eye contact because I am about as done as could be. She REACHES OVER my counter and pulls my face to look at her.)

Customer: “I’m the customer. You’re not. Once I get a hold of corporate, you won’t have a job anymore, understand?”

(Our store director interferes. The customer yells at him and tells him that I’ve been disrespectful. He responds:)

Store Director: “I’ve been watching the whole scene unfold, ma’am. She did her job. I will also be getting a hold of corporate, and you are no longer welcome in this store.”

(She left in a huff, ranting and raving that our store was not the only store she could go to. However, after chatting with some colleagues who had been here far longer, it turned out she’d been banned from several grocery stores in town because of her behavior.)

(It’s Easter Sunday and I’m riding up an elevator at work with a coworker. We work at a hospital.)

Coworker: “Happy Easter.”

Me: “Sorry, it’s not a happy Easter for me.”

Coworker: “Well, for us Christians, it is.”

Me: “My mother-in-law just passed away; how’s that for a ‘Happy Easter’?”

(My coworker just looked at me and asked what her name was, I was like, “Nope, not going to happen.” You don’t get to know her name because you jumped to conclusions. Luckily, my stop was next and I was able to get off the elevator without anything further said. But really, why would you instantly go and assume I’m not a Christian just because I said it wasn’t a happy Easter for me?)

(The defendant has been found guilty of public urination. After a police officer was requested to make him leave an event at the local community center, [Defendant] insisted on taking a long piss out of his wheelchair in the community center parking lot, all captured for posterity on the officer’s body camera. This is his fourth arrest — and conviction — on misdemeanor offenses in the last six months. [Defendant] is representing himself.)

Judge: “Ready for sentencing? Does the State have any recommendations?”

State’s Attorney: “Well, Your Honor, [Defendant] is a frequent flyer in the criminal justice system. Over the years, he’s been found guilty of…”

(The list the State’s Attorney reads from has 48 convictions that range from public drunkenness to felony possession and ingestion of controlled substances, with forays into disorderly conduct, various levels of theft, violation of a protection order, simple assault/domestic abuse, and driving while intoxicated.)

State’s Attorney: “…recommend [maximum jail time for the crime].”

Judge: “Do you have anything you’d like to say, [Defendant]?”

Defendant: “People can change, Judge.”

(In this story, I am only thirteen years old. I have just fallen and scraped my arm a few minutes ago, and I am still bleeding quite a bit. After making an emergency bandage out of a napkin and a few rubber bands to catch the blood, my family and I go to a restaurant. It is worth noting that earlier that day, I got hit in the eye with a beach ball, dropped my tray at lunch, and had a panic attack in the middle of class. In other words, so far my day has sucked, and I’ve about reached my limit. I hate unsweetened tea with a passion, but love sweet tea, and I have a killer death glare, even without meaning it.)

Me: “I would like an iced tea, please!”

Waiter: “Okay!”

(The waiter brings out a tea, and I start to drink it, only for my face to crumple in disgust. I was unaware that they did not have sweet tea. I’m not usually one to tear up over a mistake in my order, but this is my last straw. I start crying. My mom immediately notices what’s wrong. As she fixes the mistake and gets me a diet soda, instead, I accidentally glare at the waiter. He is obviously quite scared by this point. We get our food, and I find mine disgusting.)

Me: “Uh, sir, my food doesn’t taste quite right. Is there lettuce or tomato on this?”

Waiter: “I-I think so, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

(He tries to resolve it, but it’s no use. After taking in all that’s happened that day, I start crying again and accidentally give the waiter one of my famously intimidating death glares. After resolving the issue as quickly as he can, he runs off to get his manager. I think nothing of it, until…)

Manager: “One of you apparently threatened to kill my employee over a mistaken order. Which one of you did it?”

Waiter: “It was the little one in the corner, one her phone! She threatened to kill me!”

(My family is extremely confused, because none of us are that kind of person, especially not me. I figure out what he is referring to after a few minutes.)

Me: “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, sir, but your employee must be mistaken. I did accidentally glare at him after my order was messed up a few times, but I never once threatened to kill or otherwise harm him. I’ve had a rough day, and my arm is still bleeding from an earlier incident. When I cry, which I did, I do tend to glare by total accident. Again, I am sorry for the misunderstanding. If you wish to file this under anything, my name is [My Name].”

Manager: “Ah, I see. No verbal threats, [Waiter]?”

(The waiter shakes his head, but then bursts out once more.)

Waiter: “She obviously wanted to kill me, [Manager]! Isn’t that the same as a death threat? Plus, she’s probably just exaggerating for attention.”

(Furious, I hold up my elbow with its makeshift bandage in its full glory, blood and all. It is almost soaked by now, but the bleeding has stopped.)

Me: “Pal, I don’t think that I was exaggerating. This is just a little of what I’ve gone through today. I’m sorry for scaring you, but there is no need to overreact. Personally, I think that even when scared, your service was quite good, and I was planning on asking for the manager to compliment your wonderful service in the face of a girl who was crying her eyes out over a simple mistake. I’m sorry for the trouble, [Manager], was it?”

Manager: “It’s fine. This is the third time this week that he’s done this. Thank you for remaining calm. Also, would you like a real bandage?”

(After I confirmed that it was probably a good idea, he went to get one, telling the waiter to meet him in his office. It turns out that the manager’s daughter went to my school, and was one of my good friends. His daughter had told him about what had all happened that day, and he was extremely sympathetic towards me for it. His daughter and I are still good friends to this day, and he and I joke about this incident quite a lot now. He also asked me how I remained so calm, to which I replied, “I’d already dealt with enough crap that day, and that was nothing to me.”)