I am dating a guy who co-owns a small restaurant with his father. All of the staff know who I am since I pop in to say hello to my boyfriend quite often.

We are both going out of town for a week and have a flight for later in the day. My boyfriend wants to stop in the restaurant before we go to the airport because he’s nervous to be away for a week.

We arrive and he goes in the back to do his last-minute check and make sure the staff knows he’ll be gone. It’s between lunch and dinner and it’s mostly empty. I take a seat at one of the empty tables by the kitchen and play around on my phone while I’m waiting.

In comes a woman that is there to pick up a to-go order. To-go orders are being manned by a girl that has only been working there for a couple of weeks. I’m not paying attention until I hear raised voices. This woman is not only claiming to know the owners but that she’s their wife.

Customer: “I never pay! Obviously, you’re new and don’t know how this works! Now, give me my order or else you’re done here!”

The poor girl is looking like she’s about to cry, which is my cue to step in.

Me: “Pardon me, you said you’re married to the owner?”

Immediately, she gets in my face.

Customer: “Mind your own business! No one was talking to you!”

Me: “I’m confused about how you could be married to the owner. There are two: one is a widower and the other is dating me. So, unless my boyfriend has a secret wife, I would think you were trying to scam a free meal out of a new employee that may not know that.”

My voice is getting louder with each word, finally catching the attention of my boyfriend, who comes out, looking confused.

Boyfriend: “What’s going on?”

Customer: “WHO ARE YOU?! THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

Both of us are dressed pretty casually since we are about to get on a long flight. He is not giving off “owner” vibes by any means.

Me: “That’s one of the owners. You should recognize him. He’s either your husband or son.”

Finally, it clicked in this woman’s brain. Turning red, she bolted out the door. Funnily enough, she tried the same thing again when another new person was working the to-go counter. After that, the owners made sure new employees met the family and also knew about this crazy woman.

Related:
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 13
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 12
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 11
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 10
Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 9

I’m the only cashier on duty. It’s a slow night, and many customers have been getting cashback; thus, our change reserve is running low. An older lady comes through my line. She seems pleasant enough as I ring up her items.

Me: “Your total is $4.12.”

The customer takes a large wad of bills out of her purse, grumbling as she thumbs through them, and then hands me a $100 bill.

I call the manager to confirm that the bill is real; the manager confirms, and I start counting change. The customer is watching me with an increasingly annoyed expression.

Customer: “Do you only have fives?!”

Me: “Fives and ones, ma’am. I’m afraid I don’t have any larger bills.”

Manager: “Let me check if we have any twenties in the change safe.”

My manager takes $60 off me as I continue to count out the rest of the change in piles of ten $1 bills. My manager comes back with two $20s and more $5s.

Manager: “There’s not that much change in the safe.”

The customer glares at the large piles of small bills.

Customer: “Oh, just give me my hundred back!”

The customer rips a $10 out of her wad of bills and throws it at me. I return her $100 and count out the change for the $10, and she leaves, grumbling under her breath. My manager and I exchange matching looks of exasperation.

Manager: *In annoyed disbelief* “Did she really try to pay for a $5 purchase with $100?”

Me: “Amazing how fast she changed her mind when she realized she’d be getting over $30 in ones.”

I work night shift stock at a grocery store and often finish my shift at around seven or eight in the morning; it’s usually a ten-hour shift, sometimes twelve. Given the time, I’ve become a regular at a coffee place on the way home, more often than not being served by the same, rather pretty, female barista, and we sometimes have small talk on slow mornings. Obviously, I’m under no illusions that she’s nice to me for any other reason than that I buy coffee. 

One morning, I’ve just gotten off a twelve-hour shift at work and am walking across the parking towards my car. By sheer coincidence, the same barista who often serves me is walking towards the grocery store, though her eyes are on her phone and she has earbuds in, so I decide not to greet her.

However, I see out of the corner of my eye as she clips her smartphone onto the holster on her hip. She apparently missed the proper clasp and her phone falls a few feet onto the pavement. She doesn’t seem to notice, so I double back, pick up her phone, and call out to get her attention.

Me: “Hey, [Barista].”

She turns around, recognizing me.

Me: “You dropped your—”

The barista lets out a frustrated grunt, cutting me off.

Barista: “Oh, godd*** it.” 

Me: *Blinking, confused* “Huh?”

Barista: “Look, I know we talk sometimes, but you know it’s just because I’m literally paid to be nice to you, right? I’m not going to be closer than the coffee girl.”

She goes on for what feels like quite a bit of time, not quite yelling, but firmly telling me that she’s not interested. I do try to interject when she takes a breath with the same four words: “You dropped your phone.” However, she’s not paying attention. Eventually, I just stop talking and hold up her phone — which has a neon-pink case — next to my face, waiting for her to notice.

After another minute or so:

Barista: “…so you really need to not jump to conclusions. Just because someone is polite and gives you a big smile—”

She finally notices her phone in my hand and reaches down to touch her phone holster.

Barista: “Wait. How did you get that?”

Me: “You dropped it about ten feet behind you.” 

Barista: *Pause* “Oh.” 

She took her phone, looked at the screen to make sure it was still locked, and then turned around to resume her trek to the store without so much as a thanks or apology. I was still a regular at the coffee shop, up until a certain global disease made my job even more hectic. The barista still often served me, never alluding to the incident in front of the grocery store, and I never brought it up, either. I just decided it wasn’t worth it.

This story is part of our Best Of November 2020 roundup!

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We have a promotional deal at our sports store that if you bring in an old bat, you get a discount on your new one. However, customers are taking advantage of it and corporate sends out a notice to only allow customers one trade-in.

I have a customer come in with her husband and her son. I am currently working as the door greeter. One of my duties is to intercept the old bats and give the customer a slip for their turn-in.

Me: “Hello! Welcome to [Sports Store]! Do you have a bat trade-in today?”

Customer: “Yes!”

She turns around and grabs a total of four from her husband.

Me: “Unfortunately, ma’am, we are only allowed to do one trade-in.”

Customer: “Are you kidding me?! Why?!”

Me: “That is the policy set in place. I’m sor—”

Customer: *Cuts me off* “Ridiculous! That is so stupid.” 

Me: “I understand, ma’am, but that is our policy. If you’d like, I can get the manager.”

Customer: “Do that.”

I radio the manager and she says that she will be coming up from the back office.

Customer: “What’s to say that don’t I turn in one here and then do the same at all of the other [Sports Store]s in town?”

Me: “Well, it’s on an honor basis, but—”

Customer: *Cuts me off again* “This is so stupid.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but my manager is coming up to speak with you about this.”

Customer: “Yeah, I know. When did y’all even start this?”

At this point, everyone within a ten-foot radius can hear her yelling. My manager still hasn’t come up yet. She interrupts me again as I am trying to explain.

Customer: “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” *Waves me off* 

Me: “Okay, you don’t need to be rude.”

Customer: “Excuse me?!”

I’ve turned my attention to other customers coming in because I’m annoyed with her disrespect toward me. I overhear the customer’s husband ask what happened and she tells him I called her rude.

Customer’s Husband: “Did you really tell my wife that she is rude?!”

Me: “Yes. I did.”

Customer’s Husband: “Wow, so much for customer service. You should work on that.”

Me: “Okay. Great. Thanks.”

My manager comes up and handles the situation, telling her everything I said. The customer yells and gets angry and interrupts my manager the same as she did me. She finally just leaves with her family in tow. My manager leaves to her office and tells me to just shake it off.

Another customer comes up to me and says:

Other Customer: “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. They were awful. You don’t deserve that. I hope you have a great day.”

I work at a locally-owned sports bar. It’s early spring, and it’s just warm enough for patrons to sit comfortably outside on the patio. On this particular day, the Naval Air Station that is about a mile away is doing touch-and-go rehearsals with F/A-18 Hornet jet fighters.

A group of six customers comes in, and they want to sit on the patio. 

Me: “Are you sure? The Air Force has been doing turn and burns all morning.”

Group: “We’re sure.”

I seat them on the patio, give them menus, and take their drink order. When I leave to get the drinks, two jets fly low overhead. They’re low enough that their engines set off every car alarm in the parking lot.

I bring the drinks back and get one person’s order before the jets are back.

Customer #1: “It’s really loud out here.”

Me: “Would you like—” *Interrupted by jet* “Would you like to sit inside?”

Customer #1: “No, it’s really nice out—” *Interrupted by a second jet* “It’s really nice outside.”

It takes me almost fifteen minutes to get their order because of the jets. After I drop off the food:

Me: “Can I get you anything else?”

Customer #2: “Some earplugs?”

They complained to the manager that I did not adequately warn them that fighter jets would be flying so low and so loud.