I don’t know if it’s just my resort that gets this or if it’s everywhere, but so many people come and check in with “service dogs”, and it is so painfully obvious that they’re not really service dogs. This happens during check-in.

Customer: “Just so you know, I have a service dog: a black poodle, golden retriever mix. It’s for medical alert.”

This dog isn’t with her during check-in.

When we ask her the two questions we are legally allowed to ask, she gets angry and threatens us.

Customer: “You’ll get in trouble for asking those questions!”

I pull out our booklet and literally show her the law before she gives up. As we’re doing this, her husband brings the dog in, and this furry friend can’t even listen to being told to sit. Before I can even finish checking them in, it tries to jump on other guests and barks.

Me: “Ma’am, I am not convinced that this is a service dog.”

The woman tries to talk to me but is being pulled away by the dog who has discovered an interesting new smell.

Customer: “I told you that you will be in trouble if you deny access to my service dog!”

Me: “Your dog has been in the lobby for five minutes, and it has disobeyed your every order, bothered other guests, and been a noise nuisance. This behavior is bad for a dog in general, let alone a service dog.”

Customer: “That’s it! I’m going to complain! Where is your manager?!”

Manager: “I’m standing right behind you, and I am charging you the hotel’s pet fee, plus a cleaning fee.”

Customer: “That’s discrimination! Why am I being charged a cleaning fee?!”

Manager: “Because I doubt the steaming turd next to us was made by one of our other guests, ma’am.”

He points down to the recently-deposited evidence.

Customer: “Oh, s***!”

“Oh, s***,” indeed! They were charged the pet fee and a cleaning fee, and we took a bigger deposit against their room. They had to check out early since the dog was such a barker that we got multiple noise complaints.

I’m a sixty-ish-year-old woman wearing a knitted cardigan working the service desk of a library, with my hair up in a bun and reading glasses hanging around my neck. I am the stereotypical vision of an old librarian lady.

A young male customer walks up to the service desk and leans in for a whisper.

Customer: “So… I… uh… I got this drug test—”

Me: “I cannot sell you my urine.”

Customer: “How… how did you know I was going to ask that?”

Me: “You were here last month filling out job application forms. Here you are today reeking of weed. You got a job offer, and they have a drug test requirement. People like you also seem to think that either the library offers a lot more services than it really does, or we poor librarians are so poorly paid that we’d be willing to sell our own bodily fluids to make rent.”

Sadly, that last part isn’t too far from the truth.

Me: “Besides, my urine would be of no use to you anyway.”

Customer: “Why? It’s not like you could be pregnant.”

Me: “It’s cute you think my urine is free from illicit and mind-altering substances.”

I very sloooooowly curved my mouth up into a wide psycho smile, eyes wide. He backed away and I haven’t seen him since.

Related:
The Contrarian Ex-Librarian
The Contrarian Librarian: The DVD
The Contrarian Librarian Runs Out Of Time
The Contrarian Librarian: The Childhood Years
Softening Of The Contrarian Librarian

I’m scanning a customer’s items, and one of the items is a medicinal-looking cream.

Customer: “That cream is on sale, so that’s good.”

Me: “I’m glad you found it at a good price.”

Customer: “It’s for my man-parts.”

Me: *Scans faster*

Customer: “It’s because that b**** gave me a rash.”

Me: *Scans faster still*

Customer: “Why do b****es always gotta be b****es? I ain’t ever been with a b**** who wasn’t a b****!”

Me: *Scans furiously*

Customer: “Seriously, I got so many rashes down there. Why are women all b****es?”

Me: “Sir, if you wish to continue this conversation, I’m going to have to ask you to lie on a couch and start paying me a hundred bucks an hour!”

Minimum wage was not worth that trauma! Thankfully, he paid and got out there without venting any more of his issues, either medical or mental!

Related:
TMI Am Out Of Here!

Customer: “I see you’ve expanded your self-checkout area… again. At the expense of your human-operated checkout lanes… again.”

Me: “Well, not me personally, but yes, the store did add more self-checkouts as there seems to be a higher demand for them.”

Customer: “It’s so sad that this is where our country is heading. People don’t want to talk to each other anymore. Whatever happened to friendly human interaction?”

I scan her bread and pass it to the bagger. The customer immediately goes through a personality change.

Customer: “Don’t you dare put that in the bag first! It’ll get crushed, you moron!”

Bagger: “I was just putting it aside, ma’am. I wasn’t going to bag it—”

Customer: “I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that now because I spoke up. You’re lucky I am here using the original checkout lanes and keeping you boys employed! If I used the self-checkouts, I’d be doing your job for you! Next time, I think I will — and I’ll demand an employee discount from the manager for doing your jobs for you!”

The next customer in line has had enough.

Next Customer: “Whatever happened to friendly human interaction?”

Customer: “They’re being incompetent!”

Next Customer: “They’re being lovely human beings. You’re being a monster. Just hurry up and let them finish so we can all get moving.”

Customer: *To me* “See what I mean? This country is getting worse. No one wants to have social interactions anymore!”

Next Customer: “If these last few minutes are an indication of what you’re like, then it’s no wonder you only have checkout operators to talk to.”

Customer: “Shut up!”

Next Customer: “I’m sorry you’re lonely, but it’s your problem, not the baggers’.”

Customer: *To me* “Make her shut up!”

Me: “Uh… how about we all just stop talking until it’s time to pay?”

Mercifully, everyone took my advice!

Related:
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 7
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 6
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 5
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 4
Self-Check Yourself Before You Self-Wreck Yourself, Part 3

For decades, my wife and I kept extended warranties on our appliances such as our refrigerators and washers. Whenever we booked a repair from the company that we purchased the appliance from, they always asked which time slot I wanted: either 8:00 to 12:00 or 1:00 to 5:00. No matter which time slot I chose, it seemed that I was the last stop in the time slot I chose, so I’d wait over three hours for them arrive.

We had a new refrigerator that needed a third repair within the first year we purchased it, so it qualified for the lemon law, and we were entitled to a new appliance at no cost. Per procedures, they sent a technician for this repair, and after looking at my fridge, he ordered parts for this repair to be sent to our address.

In the meantime, we received our brand-new replacement fridge, so the service representative called and asked if they could pick up the parts for the repair that had already been delivered to our home.

Me: “Sure. On Friday, I will be home for thirty minutes between 8:00 and 12:00, and for thirty minutes between 1:00 and 5:00. So, what time period would you like?”

The line went silent, and then she hung up. They never picked up the parts, ever.