(I work in a regional pharmacy and convenience store chain. One of the services we offer is check cashing, but with a hefty fee, since we are not a bank. The minimum fee is $3, and it shifts to 2% of the check for any amount over $150. The fee is automatically deducted from the check total, and we give the customer the difference. A woman comes in on a Sunday afternoon, demanding we cash her check. Instead of going to customer service, she heads to the pharmacy counter and tries to give them her check. The head pharmacist calls down to me that I will have a customer soon.)

Me: “Hello! You want a check cashed?”

(The customer, an elderly woman, pushes the check at me with a humph.)

Customer: “Yes, that one. My daughter is in town from DC, and I have to take her out to dinner.”

Me: *punching in the check total to get the fee amount* “All right, the fee for check cashing is 2% of the check, so for $259.50, it’s going to be a $5.19 fee.”

Customer: “You’re kidding! Well! This is the last time I do this; I’m pulling out all my prescriptions!”

Me: *thinking that’s a weird knee-jerk reaction* “Okay. Did you still want to cash this check?”

Customer: “Well, yes! I have to take my daughter out to dinner! She came up here from DC! This is ridiculous; I want to talk to a manager! You don’t do this to loyal customers. I’m going to pull out all my prescriptions, and I have a lot!”

(I page the manager while she fumes, repeatedly going back to her prescriptions and how she is going to take them all out first thing tomorrow morning. The manager walks in, and she starts berating him, too.)

Customer: “I have been a customer here for years. You don’t charge loyal customers $5 for cashing checks! I’m going to pull out my prescriptions!”

Manager: “That’s not our fee; the check cashing company sets that. It’s the fee they charge for using their services.”

(The customer humphs for a bit while the manager goes through the procedure, which is tedious and done on a separate machine. She goes silent for a moment before perking back up, turning to me while pointing at the manager.)

Customer: “No! Who’s above him? Who’s the highest manager?!”

Manager: “The store manager.”

Customer: “And who is that?”

Me: “[Store Manager].”

Customer: “Is he here?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “Is he here tomorrow?!”

Manager: “Yes, [Store Manager] will be in tomorrow.”

Customer: “Good! I’m going to get my money back and pull out all my prescriptions!”

(We hand her the keypad to put in her social security number, and she acts like it’s the most complex device she’s ever used. It’s a nine-digit keypad with a green button and a red button. All you have to do is type the number, hit the green button, type the number again for confirmation, and hit the green button again. It takes a lot of prodding, interspersed with, “What do I do now?!” We also have to key in her driver’s license, the confirmation code from the receipt, the state, the day of the transaction, and so forth.)

Customer: “Why is this taking so long?!“

Me: “It’s a process. We have to go through extra steps and security, since we aren’t a bank.”

Customer: “Well, who do I talk to about pulling out my prescriptions?”

Me: “The pharmacy.”

(She goes strangely quiet after that, letting us complete the transaction with minor grumbling. I count out the amount of the check, minus the fee, making sure I am on camera as I do. I proceed to lay it flat on the counter to show her while I count it again, but she snatches it from me.)

Customer: “No! I’ll count it! I can’t wait to come in tomorrow and talk to your manager! I’m going to pull out all my prescriptions!”

(She finally takes her money and storms off. The head pharmacist pokes his head in.)

Pharmacist: “So, how’d that go?”

(I relay the whole story and he just laughs, shaking his head. He goes on to tell me how she’s been a chronic pain in the pharmacy’s neck for years.)

Pharmacist: “She always says that. If I had a dollar for every time she threatened to pull out her prescriptions, I’d be a lot closer to retirement.”

(It’s the opening night at a brand new location of an upscale movie theater chain in Los Angeles. A colleague and I are working customer service. An enraged man with a stain on his shirt confronts my colleague.)

Customer: “I demand that you reimburse me for this shirt!”

Colleague: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I spilled ketchup on my shirt during the movie, and I demand that you reimburse me! The shirt is ruined! I tried washing it off, but none of the taps in your bathrooms work!”

(He goes off into an profanity-laced rant, and my colleague is letting it get to her. I interrupt his tirade.)

Me: “Excuse me, sir. Maybe you could show me the taps?”

(We walk off to the restroom, which has about 15 taps in a row.)

Me: “So, none of these are working?”

Customer: “Yeah, there’s no running water in here. You people make me sick!”

(The faucets are operated by a photocell, so I try one out and, of course, it works perfectly.)

Me: “You see these red things on the taps, sir? Just put your hand in front of them and water will come out.”

(I proceeded to do this with all fifteen taps while the customer just stood there with his mouth open. He muttered something under his breath, exited the restroom, and RAN though the main hall and out the door. I normally don’t like to humiliate people who are having a dumb moment, but he was being a real a**hole to my colleague.)

(I work at a sit-down restaurant, but it is well known that we do to-go orders over the phone and at the cashier’s desk. For to-go orders, we charge a $0.35 fee. This fee is meant to pay for the chips and salsa you receive automatically with your order and the containers we use to put the food in. The customer in question is ordering in place of a regular who always orders the same thing. The regular has never had this issue.)

Customer: “Did somebody call in an order? I’m picking it up for my son.”

Me: “Oh, I can take care of that over here.”

(I walk from the hostess desk and escort the customer to the front. The customer produces one of our paper to-go menus and opens it to a section that has been written on.)

Customer: “He comes in almost every day for this.” *points to menu item* “I swear, he could live on the stuff.”

(I immediately recognize the order and put it in the computer. Some of our menu items are supposed to only come with one of two sides, but we serve it with both. This order contains one such item.)

Customer: “He usually gets both sides.”

Me: “I was just about to ask you that. Some of the items on the menu say they’re only supposed to come with one or the other, but we serve it with both. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go make sure this is going to come with both sides. I don’t want to charge you an extra $2 for a side you’re already getting.”

(The customer smiles, thanks me, and lets me go. I’m back a few seconds later with the news that she’s getting both sides, and therefore, I don’t need to charge her extra. Shortly after I read her the price, one of my coworkers shows up at the desk and listens to our conversation.)

Customer: “That can’t possibly be right, because I know it’s not $2 in tax.”

Me: “Well, part of it is from the $0.35 to-go fee, which is to pay for the chips and the bins they put the food in. So, tax would be on [price of food plus fee].”

Customer: “No, [price for food without fee]!” *jabs finger at the menu*

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I understand that. But, like I said earlier, your total includes the $0.35.”

Customer: *throws hands in the air* “I shouldn’t have to pay you guys just to get the food to me! If you were delivering, I could understand it.”

(This conversation continues for about another two minutes, with the customer getting more and more agitated.)

Customer: “Now, look. I’m about the only person he trusts with this card. And he doesn’t remember the numbers, or any of that kind of thing.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. I remember he said he had a few strokes a while ago.”

(I don’t remember now exactly what she says, but the customer continues trying to haggle over the $0.35. Exasperated, I give in just to get her to let it go.)

Me: “Would you like me to take it off?”

Customer: *looks at me like I’m stupid, responding in a condescending tone* “Well, it would help him.”

(The customer paid and then left after her food was given to her, but not before complaining about her hip needing to be replaced and a number of other unrelated things. My coworker was just as flabbergasted as I was.)

This story is part of our Hagglers roundup.

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(I am a girl who has grown up as a nerd from a young age, enjoying comics, card games, etc. I go to a comic book store where I’m a regular, to play Magic: The Gathering. Since I’m a girl, a lot of guys tend to think I’m a ditz and that I have no idea how to play the game. We have just finished “drafting” and creating our decks, and I am extremely confident in my deck. I am assigned to play with a guy I’ve never seen before.)

Guy: “Hi, I’m [Guy]. You’re [My Name]?”  

Me: “Hi, [Guy]. Yes, nice to meet you.”

Guy: “Okay, so, I’m guessing you’re new to the game. I’m willing to go easy on you so you can at least have the first round.”

(All the guys who know me just kind of chuckle under their breath, knowing that he has just signed a death warrant.)

Me: *in my best ditz voice* “Oh, thank you. I was so worried; I’ve never, like, played this game. I just came along with my dad.”

(I gesture to one of the guys close by.)

Guy: “Oh, that’s sweet. Dad-daughter time.”

Me: “Yeah.”

(We begin to play. As he promised, he goes easy on me, and I win. But he also lets me see a lot of his good cards, whereas I haven’t played mine, because I want him to believe I am bad. We continue to the next game, and he’s no longer going easy on me. He realizes over this round that I am now putting out heavy hitters and excellent combos. As I’m about to win, he stands up.)

Guy: “YOU’RE A CHEATER!”

Me: “How?”

Guy: “You had your dad build your deck! You’re supposed to make your own!”

Me: “Actually, [Guy I pointed out earlier] isn’t my dad. He’s someone who knows me because I constantly come here and win. I have done so for at least six months, now.”

Guy: “You aren’t new, then! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Me: “Maybe you shouldn’t assume that, because I have boobs, I don’t know how to play something. It’s extremely sexist. Now. Are you going to let me finish the game, or are you going to run out the door with your tail between your legs?”

(At this point he is looking around for support, and the owner says:)

Owner: “Maybe you shouldn’t be a sexist d**k!”

Guy: *looks at me* “You b****! *stands up and huffs out*

Owner: *yells to customer as he leaves* “I hope you learned your lesson!”

(He tried to come the next week. He opened the door, only to see me sitting there, facing the door, smiling. He automatically turned around and left, and he didn’t come back again. It’s always nice to put those type of guys in their place.)

(I am the manager of a makeup counter located within a department store. It is a fairly slow business day, so I am taking the time to sort some of our stock alphabetically. My counter next to the register is covered in stacks of our eye pencils that I am sorting, when two women came up to the counter with their purchases. I push the eye pencils aside and begin to ring them up. I am generally very friendly and conversational.)

Me: “Did you find everything okay today?”

(They are talking over me, talking to one another, and generally being very tactless, but I continue ringing them up, keeping any further questions to myself.)

Customer: *grabbing a handful of the eye pencils* “What are these? Are they free? Just throw ’em in my bag.”

Me: “Those are some of our eyeliners. I was just sorting—”

Customer: “I’ll take some for me and some for my friend.” *starts tossing them in their bag*

Me: “Ma’am, I would gladly give them to you, but you’d have to pay $16.50 a piece for them.”

Customer: “Ugh! Then why are they here?!”

Me: *pause* “Because we sell them?”

Customer: *literally throwing them out of her bag* “Never mind!”

(She snatched the receipt from my hand, and both women walked off, badmouthing me.)