(I’m helping collect offering plates at my church. I notice that the plate at one of my assigned sections has stopped midway down an aisle, while the rest are moving normally through the church. I walk over to see what the issue is. I spot a woman digging through the cash already in the plate and pulling bills out. Everyone else in her aisle is staring at her.)

Me: “Ma’am, can I help you with something?”

(She drops the cash back into the plate.)

Woman #1: “I was just, um… yeah. Here you go.”

(She passes it down quickly. I collect it and head towards the counting room. As I pass the back row…)

Woman #2: “Hey! HEY! You!” *snaps her fingers and gestures me over*

Me: “Yes?”

Woman #2: “Give me that. I need to break a $10.”

(She reaches for the plate. I step out of her reach.)

Me: “No.”

Woman #2: “Why not?”

Me: “The offering plate is not for making change.”

Woman #2: “But I need smaller bills!”

(She makes another grab for the plate. Before I can stop myself, the following flies out of my mouth…)

Me: “No! This is a church, not a bank!”

(She stares at me, mouth open.)

Woman #2: “FINE! I thought church people were supposed to be polite!”

(I booked it out of the sanctuary and to the counting area before she had a chance to reply further. Seriously, people. Have some respect and don’t go picking out of the offering plate!)

(At my store, and many others, cashiers answer the phones and then pass the call on to whoever needs it, or takes care of the customer themselves. I answer a call. The woman is immediately rude and condescending, with thinly disguised contempt for all retail workers in her voice.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store]! This is [My Name]; how can I help you today?”

Rude Customer: “Listen. You are going to get an item for me. You are going to put it on hold for me. I was in your store yesterday and one of you—” *I can practically hear her lip curl on this word* “—told me the wrong aisle for this item. So, you are going to go get it. You will put it on hold. You will hold it until Saturday for me. Is this clear?”

(I try to be understanding, because it’s frustrating to not find the one thing you need and made a special trip to the store for, and we have some new workers that are really bad at telling people where items are located.)

Me: “I’m sorry you had this experience. May I have the item number or a description of it so I can find it for you?”

Rude Customer: *sighs heavily, as if I’m supposed to know exactly what she needs without her going through the strenuous effort of telling me a six-digit item number* “Listen carefully. I’m only saying this once. [Number].”

Me: *a lot less sympathetic now* “Okay, the item number is [number]. It’s a [item description]; is this all correct?”

Rude Customer: “Of course it is. I told you the number!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. And just so I can help our new members learn the store, do you remember where they incorrectly said the item was?”

Rude Customer: “No, I will not tell you this. You don’t need to know that. Put my item on hold. I will get it Saturday.”

Me: *in my best customer service voice* “Oh, well, I’m so sorry, ma’am, but we can only hold items for 24 hours. If you want, I can have it held until the end of business tomorrow, which is an extra six hours, or you can do site-to-store shipping, which guarantees your item will be waiting for you whenever you want to pick it up, or you can ship from site to your home.”

Rude Customer: “What?! I want it on Saturday. You will hold it until Saturday!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s against store policy.”

Rude Customer: “Well. I guess I’ll just have to come back on Wednesday, then. You’d better have my item waiting for me!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. May I have your name for the hold?”

Rude Customer: “Why would you ever need that?”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s so we know who the item is for. Otherwise, someone else could purchase it.”

Rude Customer: *another sigh exuding her contempt for my very existence* “Fine. It’s [Rude Customer]. Did you get all this right this time?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. One [item] will be on hold for you until closing tomorrow. Our hours are 9:00 am to 9:00 pm each day. Your item will be next to the registers. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Rude Customer: “No.”

(The line goes dead. I go to get her item. It’s a rather distinct thing, and not something we sell a lot of. I ask the department who is near the item if anyone had trouble finding this item yesterday.)

Coworker: “Oh! This lady! She demanded someone walk her from the front of the store back to here and that we point out exactly where the item was. [Coworker #2] did exactly that, and then the lady glared at all of us and left in a huff.”

Me: “D***, okay, then. Some people just want to be mad at the world, I guess.”

(I then put the item on hold and let my manager know what happened. My manager makes a note to ensure that the item gets returned to the floor at the end of business tomorrow.)

Manager: *grinning while writing a note to tomorrow’s closing manager* “Malicious compliance!”

(The lady did not come in to claim her item. I work all day on Saturday, and I’m sure I’ll see her smiling face then. Wish me luck!)

(I’m working at the check-in desk for the fitness center of a community center. The center is undergoing renovations which include new ID cards and protocols for members of the center; previously, they would show a membership card to the check-in desk and the attendant would let them in. Now, we need to scan the card to verify that the membership is current. We are told there are no exceptions to this policy, although if a member forgets their card we are allowed to look them up by name to verify the membership. The following exchange occurs after some general niceties; up until this point the customer has been mostly normal and friendly.)

Me: “May I please see your ID card?”

Customer: “Why do you want to see my card?”

Me: “I need to scan the card as part of our updated security procedures.”

Customer: “What if I forgot it?”

Me: “That’s okay; I can look you up by name for today. However, we would appreciate it if you would bring the card in the future.”

Customer: “What if I forget it next time I come in?” 

Me: “If that were to occur, we could look you up by name next time, but we really would appreciate you bringing your card when you use the fitness center.”

Customer: *suddenly belligerent* “NO MAN WILL EVER WANT YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE INFLEXIBLE!”

Me: *stunned*

(My coworker who had been present for the entire exchange jumped in and started explaining that these were the fitness center’s policies, not my personal policies. The following day, we were informed that this member was the exception to the rule and we should avoid requesting his card. This development was made even more strange by the fact that other customers with bad behavior were not handled the same way and were even brought into the membership office for a stern talking-to!)

(I work as a cashier in a family-run burger restaurant. One of my fellow cashiers is very bad at math, which wouldn’t be an issue normally because the register does all the math for us. But he insists on writing out the prices and stuff on a pad next to the register before entering it, leading to conversations like this one:)

Customer: “I’d like [order].”

Cashier: *writes the order down on his pad, slowly working his way through the math* “That will be [Total].” *finally actually puts order into the register, which then promptly displays that total*

Customer: “Okay…” *hands over their payment*

Cashier: *starts figuring out the change he needs to give on the paper*

Customer: “Is something wrong with the machine?”

Cashier: *huffily* “I just like doing things myself.” *finally punches the payment in, getting prompted with the exact change needed*

(He’s been talked to by the supervisor several times, but he keeps insisting that he can do it himself. I’m pretty sure he is related to the owners in some way, which is why he hasn’t been fired yet.)

(My brother-in-law is obsessed with a certain online game — the one with the ridiculous dance moves. He is so obsessed that when he isn’t playing, he acts like an addict in detox. My husband doesn’t see it this way, but offers no alternative for why his 26-year-old brother would be moody and withdrawn when he isn’t playing. One night, he is over for dinner and, of course, plays this game on our console, something I specifically said he could not do. When dinner is ready, I call him to the table.)

Me: “Hey, [Brother-In-Law], come eat!”

Brother-In-Law: *distracted* “Um… hang on. I’m… busy.”

Me: “Pause it; it’s time to eat.”

Brother-In-Law: *no response*

Me: “[Husband], go get him.”

Husband: “He’ll be here in a minute.”

(Ten minutes pass, and all I hear from the other room is [Brother-In-Law] screaming at the TV and the game restarting. I go to the living room to fetch him myself.)

Me: “[Brother-In-Law]! Come on!”

Brother-In-Law: *distracted* “Okay. Hold… Just a… second.”

Me: *stepping in front of the TV* “Dinner is getting cold. Let’s go!”

Brother-In-Law: *furious* “F***! Move! Oh, my f******… You made me lose! F***!”

Me: *cheerfully* “Now you can come to eat with us. Let’s go!”

Brother-In-Law: “Fine.”

([Brother-In-Law] follows me to the kitchen, grabs a plate of food, and skirts around me back to the living room.)

Me: “Excuse me. What are you doing?”

Brother-In-Law: *firing up the game again* “You wanted me to eat.”

Me: “I wanted you to eat with us. Come in here.”

Brother-In-Law: “But the game!”

Me: “It’s just a game!” *moves to unplug the console*

Brother-In-Law: “Don’t touch that!”

Me: *astounded* “Did you just tell me to not touch my [game console]?”

Brother-In-Law: *condescendingly* “That’s what I said.”

Me: *shrug* “Okay.”

(I go down to the basement where our wireless router is set up and pull the plug. In no time, I hear a feral screech and pounding. I come back upstairs to see [Brother-In-Law] holding his controller so tightly his knuckles are turning white.)

Brother-In-Law: “WHAT THE F***?!”

Husband: “What?!”

Brother-In-Law: “YOUR B**** RUINED MY GAME!”

Husband: *sternly* “My wife invited you over for dinner, not to play video games. If you want to play your game, you can go home.”

Brother-In-Law: “But–”

Husband: “No.”

Brother-In-Law: “She–”

Husband: “No.”

Brother-In-Law: *pointing at me* “F*** YOU!”

Husband: *grabs his brother by the arm* “Well, that’s enough. You can come back when you can act like a decent human being. *takes the controller from him and pushes him out the door* “Goodbye.”

([Brother-In-Law] has come back since then, but he never stays long. It’s strange how our Wi-Fi always goes down when he comes over.)