My former employer had a membership that originally only required your phone number and name. After an update, an email requirement was added. Without all of the information, the membership is considered invalid. This particular customer has come in at least once a week for as long as I can remember.

She approaches my register and I inwardly brace for the argument.

Me: “Hi, do you have—”

Woman: “Here.”

She thrusts her store card in my face. I scan the card and her information pops ups.

Me: “Okay, it looks like we don’t have all the required information here. What’s a good email for you?”

Woman: *Glaring at me* “None.”

Me: “In order to continue getting the membership discounts, I do need—”

Woman: “No.”

Me: “You won’t get the sale prices or coupons.”

Woman: “I’m not giving you my email.”

Me: “Are you sure?”

Woman: “I said no.”

Me: “Okay.”

I scan her items and tell her the total.

Woman: “Why aren’t [items] on sale?”

Me: “Your membership is only valid with all of the information filled in, including your email.”

Woman: “Well, no one told me.”

I’ve personally gone through it with her several times.

Woman: “Just make it up! Put in abc123 at email dot com or something!”

Me: “I could get fired for that.”

Woman: “That’s not my problem. What are you going to do about this?”

Me: “I wish I could change the system back to the way it was, but I can’t. I can give you the contact information for corporate. They’re really the only ones who can change anything.”

Woman: “This is ridiculous. I’ll just take my business elsewhere.” *Storms out*

I understand why people didn’t want to list their email and I hated going through the same argument several times a day, but there was nothing I could do about it. When I quit, they still required emails, and that woman still came in every week and argued with the cashier every time.

Related:
Email Fail, Part 32
Email Fail, Part 31
Email Fail, Part 30
Email Fail, Part 29
Email Fail, Part 28

I am playing a quiz game with my wife.  

Me: “Who is the leader of the Decepticons?”

Wife: “I don’t know. Evil Optimus Prime. Optimus Crime.”

My wife is one of the most independent, driven, and hardworking people I’ve ever met, to the point where we make in-jokes about her being the submissive housewife because the concept is absolutely ludicrous. 

Prior to meeting my wife, I started a company and have a stylized version of my initials as the company logo. My wife then started working at the company with me, and it became such a large part of our lives that she chose to get the company logo as a tattoo on the back of her neck.

My mother-in-law has become pretty disillusioned with marriage due to her own experiences and has been pretty derogatory and insulting to our union, mainly making comments along the lines of, “Once this marriage ends…” etc.

This story occurs at a beach, several years into our marriage. Because the tattoo is in a fairly hidden place and the relationship is strained, it’s the first time that my mother-in-law has noticed my wife’s tattoo.

Mother-In-Law: “WHAT THE F*** IS THAT?!”

Wife: “What’s what?”

Mother-In-Law: “On the back of your neck! Is that a tattoo?!”

Wife: “Oh, that! Yeah, I got it a few years ago.”

My mother-in-law then turns and addresses me, and I will admit I’m a smarta**.

Mother-In-Law: “DID YOU F****** BRAND HER?!” 

Me: “Well, that ring can come off; that tattoo never will.”

This sends her into a rage, with lots of yelling and swearing, and eventually, she storms off. I am talking with my wife after.

Me: “Honestly, I don’t get how she thought I made you get the tattoo. I’m pretty sure the last time anyone made you do anything, you were in diapers.”

I was quite the road-tripper post-college and very notorious for locking my keys in my car — my very old, no-frills, manual 1991 Corolla with crank windows. So notorious was I that, after going home for Christmas, my parents made me half a dozen extra keys to hide or give to more responsible people. Problem solved, or so you would think.

I was driving back to Utah from Arizona and stopped at a small gas station just south of the Utah/Arizona border. It was 3:00 am and I just needed one more tank of gas to get home, so I got out of the car and habitually locked and slammed my door. Just as it clicked shut, I realized that I had just locked my keys in the car.

I had no cell service, I was six hours from family and friends going either direction, and there were no other buildings for at least twenty miles. This Hitchcock-esque gas station was the only place with lights and people. So, I did the only sensible thing any twenty-year-old solo female traveler would do: I walked into the convenience store and said, “Help!”

Immediately, the only people there — the owner and his cousin — sprang into action. Apparently, the cousin had just relocated there from California looking to get a fresh start. Lucky for me, because he said he had lots of friends who locked their keys in their cars so he had a lot of experience breaking into cars. This sweet, wonderful, large, heavily tattooed man spent over an hour working to get into my car. And when he finally managed, neither he nor his cousin would take any money from me, not even for the hot chocolate they gave me while saving me from my own mistake.

I never saw either of them again on subsequent road trips, but I hope they both got every break the universe could offer them.

I wish that was the last time I’d gotten myself locked out of my car. It wasn’t. It wasn’t even the most dramatic. But it was the sweetest.

I’m at the drive-thru window waiting for the next customer to come by.

Me: “Hi there! Your total is going to be $41.48.”

Customer: “Okay, that’s fine.”

I can tell he’s having a rough day and he seems very cranky. I hand him his food and wait while he checks it.

Customer: “Where is my mac and cheese?”

I quickly look back into our previous orders.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but there was no mac and cheese on your order.”

Customer: “The boy on the machine read my order back and said I had a mac and cheese, so give me my mac and cheese.”

I’m getting fairly frustrated as he is holding up the line.

Me: “Would you like me to ring you up for a mac and cheese since you weren’t charged for it last time?”

Customer: “NO! I WANT MY MAC AND CHEESE AND I WON’T PAY YOU A D*** PENNY FOR IT!”

His wife steps in and hands her card to her daughter in the backseat who gives the card to me. I charge them and I hand the mac and cheese to the backseat.

Me: *With a forced smile* “Have a nice day!”