(I’m working in a small, locally-owned bakery. We close fairly early every weeknight, at six pm. We have closed and locked the store, and my coworker and I are going about our closing duties. I’m in the front cleaning the glass cases, and my coworker is in the back taking care of some other duties. While I’m cleaning, with my back to the entrance, I hear a gentle tapping behind me. It doesn’t sound like a knock, just a tap. I think it’s probably one of our rotating display cases making noises and ignore it. I go in the back for something and come back out into the storefront, where I see a man standing at the front door, knocking ever so gently. I shake my head at him, mouth, “We’re closed,” and go back to cleaning. The man stays there, knocking, and I alternate between ignoring him and indicating, again, that we’re closed. I start to wonder if maybe there is something wrong, like he’s having car trouble, and wants to use our phone, but not long after this occurs to me, I see him on his cell phone, so I know that’s not it. I go back to ignoring him, and finally, he leaves. Not two minutes later, a car pulls into the parking lot, so quickly and so haphazardly that I think for a moment it’s going to plow through the front window. It doesn’t, thankfully, but the same man from before gets out of the car and gets his phone out again. This time, our store phone rings. I’m suspicious, but I answer it, anyway.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Bakery]. This is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Caller: “You are not letting me in.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve closed for the night.”

Caller: “I want to order a cake.”

Me: “Sir, you’re more than welcome to come back or call tomorrow, but we’ve closed for the night. And all orders require a deposit, and as I’ve already taken down the registers, I can’t process that for you, anyway.”

Caller: “Why can’t you just let me in? I just want to order a cake.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I cannot let anyone in after closing hours.”

(I can’t remember if he hung up on me or I on him, but the call ended and I went back to cleaning. By this point, my coworker was aware of what was happening and she and I discussed our mutual disbelief at this man’s persistence. The store phone rang again, and it was the same number on the caller ID as before. We both ignored it. He continued to call repeatedly, and when that failed, he literally found the only, tiny, two-inch gap in the blinds in our front window and STARED at us through the glass. Now, my coworker and I, two girls in our early 20s, were nearly done closing, and we were beginning to worry about leaving the store since all exits out of the place would eventually lead right past this guy who was staring at us and refusing to leave our parking lot. We had no idea what this man was capable of, and he had shown himself to be irrational and intimidating; what were we supposed to think? I even went so far as to look up the number for the local police department and have it at the ready, but luckily, by the time we had gathered our things, the parking lot was empty and he had left. He showed up again about a week or so later, with his family, who proceeded to show themselves behind the counter to look at a case full of cakes — cakes that were not on display yet, in an area only open to employees — and then insisted upon a very specific custom order for two days away, even though we had reached our order capacity for that day earlier in the week. I think the owner ended up making them something very basic to appease them, but the guy was rude and insistent and generally self-important the entire time. I never saw him again and couldn’t have been more relieved.)

(For a few years, I’ve spent the holiday season working at a well-known bath and body store that is known for having products displayed without packaging. The idea is that everything is meant to look like a food market. In particular, our bars of soap are cut fresh to the customer’s desired weight and then wrapped up for them. A man walks in with two teenage daughters, goes straight for a wheel of soap, and takes a huge bite out of it.)

Male Customer: “What the f***? This tastes terrible!”

Me: “Sir, that’s soap. It’s not meant to be eaten.”

Male Customer: “Well, why would you have it displayed like this?! I thought it was cheese!”

Me: “So, if it were cheese in a store, you’d just walk up and take a bite out of it before having it cut and paid for?”

(I technically should be reprimanded, but the only people on the floor are me and a floor leader who is a take-no-s*** kind of woman. She makes him pay for the entire wheel of soap — about $90 — and leave. Two days later, a different customer comes in holding an empty container that our fresh face masks are sold in.)

Female Customer: “Hi, I need to return this. I, uh… had a bad reaction to it.”

Coworker: “I’d be happy to return that for you. We can give you a refund or exchange it for a product that is better suited for your skin. Could you tell me what happened?”

Female Customer: *very shyly* “It, uh… made me poop my pants.”

Coworker: “Ma’am, these are face masks. They are not edible.”

Female Customer: “Well, how was I supposed to know?! It says, ‘cupcake,’ on the label!”

(Believe it or not, I have dozens of variations on these two stories. Something about the holidays, mixed with the fact that our store is the size of a tuna can, really brings out the weirdos.)

(I work the back drive-thru a lot, so any trainees looking to learn it have to come to me. Today, I’m training a nice girl on a busy day when she points out that one of my coworkers is getting screamed at by a customer for multitasking.)

Customer: “I’M THE D*** MOST IMPORTANT THING RIGHT NOW. I BETTER SEE YOU AT THE F****** WINDOW!”

(He drives up and I get angry. I turn to the trainee and tell her to watch. As soon as he pulls up, I start cashing him out but pretend to draw a mental blank.)

Me: “God, sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to space out. I just had some lady scream and cuss at me because she drove twenty minutes down the road and chilled before eating her fries. She blamed us for them getting cold! I’m glad I have this sweet girl here with me because I wanted to cry.”

(The man is silent and has a look of shock on his face. The trainee leaves as not to laugh.)

Me: “It hurts when people scream at us for things we can’t control… Such as them ordering wrong or us being a little slow from multitasking. Some of us can’t handle the abuse. Minimum wage isn’t worth bad mental health.”

(I give him his change and smile while he looks down in shame.)

Me: “You have an absolutely perfect day! And sorry for that wait!”

This story is part of our Mental Health Awareness roundup!

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(I am not an “extreme couponer,” but I do shop the bargains and do what I can to get the most for my money. My husband works full time, but I am disabled so I’m not working. I don’t receive government assistance because my husband makes “too much,” so, between my specialist medical bills and our regular living expenses, we have to stretch every dollar as far as we can. One evening, my husband’s brother and his wife — “Brother” and “Wife” for simplicity — are over for dinner with their seven-month-old son. I just went shopping, so our cupboards are pleasantly full.)

Wife: “How do you afford all this food? [Brother] and I both work full time and we could never afford all this!”

Me: “Well, [Store] had a double coupon day, plus some sales and—“

Wife: “You coupon? Like, serious couponing?”

Me: “Well, I use them.”

Brother: *scoffs* “That’s embarrassing.”

Me: “Why?”

Brother: “I don’t know. I guess it could be worse. It’s not like you’re on food stamps, right?”

Me: “We’re not, but that’s not shameful, either.”

Brother: “I couldn’t show my face at the grocery store if [Wife] used coupons like that. Could you imagine handing over a ton of coupons like, ‘Here, give me money!’?” *laughs*

Me: “You’d hide if your wife saved you money?”

Brother: “Coupons are for poor people.”

Husband: “Okay, then we’re poor. But our poor a**es can afford all this food.”

Wife: “Don’t swear in front of [Son]!”

Me: “How can you be so closed-minded? At my birthday at [Restaurant], you screamed at the waiter because he charged you for a second plate of nachos.”

Wife: “It should have been free!”

Me: “You ordered two! Why would the second be free?”

Wife: “Because there weren’t enough chips in the first one!” *pauses* “Besides, you don’t have kids to provide for! Kids are expensive!”

Me: “Did you know they make coupons for condoms, too?”

(At this point, my in-laws suddenly remembered they had somewhere else to be and left. It’s worth noting that neither of them work low-paying jobs; one is a doctor, and the other is a CEO of a large company. I was surprised that a couple who would complain about a $7 plate of nachos would act that way about saving money. I could have shown them some great deals on baby supplies if they’d stayed!)

(I’m working in a grocery store, straightening up the cans of tomatoes on the shelf.)

Customer: “Canned tomatoes?”

(That’s what she opened with. No “hello,” no “excuse me,” not alerting me to her presence in any way, shape, or form. I’m about to transfer to a different department and I don’t really care anymore.)

Me: “We have them.”

Customer: *really cranky with me now* “Well, where are they?”

Me: *pointing to the shelf directly in front of her* “Right here.”

(She snatched the cans off the shelf and grumbled out of my life forever.)