I work at the service desk at a grocery store. We handle returns, money transfers, bill payments, and lotto at the desk. Sundays are always busy in the afternoon because of the post-church rush, and this day is the same. One great thing about working every weekend is getting to know quite a few of the regulars who come in once a week for whatever they need.

It’s about 4:00 pm, and the line is wrapped around the desk.

Customer: “This line is crazy! It’s terrible you let it get this long!”

Me: “We’re working as fast as we can, ma’am. It’s always busy on Sunday afternoons.”

This woman is a white lady. She looks at me and in a serious tone says:

Customer: “I just need to pay for this. I shouldn’t have to wait like these people.”

Cue one of my favorite regulars who is a Black woman standing in line. She clears her throat.

Regular: “And what in the h*** do you mean by ‘these people’?”

The lady goes pale(er) and rushes out of the store. I thank the regular when she gets to the register, and she gives me a big smile.

Regular: “No problem, darling. I love making racists sweat.”

I work in an office at a college. Students can come to dispute resolution to try to handle difficult situations. Typically, we see arguments about shared spaces or mediate complaints about class policies.

This time, we got something a little different. A student has requested to speak to the board and shows up holding a few sheets of paper.

Student: “Look, I’m sorry to waste your time on this, but I’m out of options.”

Board Lead: “Don’t worry about our time. We’re here to handle any issues you’re having trouble with. What’s going on?”

Student: “I live in [Dorm], and every Saturday morning, there’s someone out playing the bagpipes. It starts at 9:00 am every day. It’s the first thing I hear every Saturday.”

Board Lead: “That’s outside of quiet hours, but I think we all know that most students are still asleep on Saturday mornings. You could certainly try a noise complaint based on how loud they—”

Student: “That’s not the problem!”

He begins to wave his papers around, and I see they’re stacks of sheet music.

Student: “He’s playing the d*** song wrong! That’s not how Scotland The Brave goes!”

That was years and years ago. Now, whenever the board misses the mark on what a student is actually upset about — which happens a lot — someone will inevitably add, “That’s not how ‘Scotland The Brave’ goes!”

A family comes in who lost an iPhone camping. They start out right off the bat with:

Customer: “We already tried locating it, and it’s gone. Thank goodness we have insurance, so please help us file a claim.”

Straight forward enough. I do the claim for them, though they could have done this online on their own. I’m very polite despite how pushy and demanding they are.

Me: “You can come back in when you get the new phone if you need help with iCloud or anything else.”

The next day, they come back with the new phone. They walk right up to me while I’m helping someone else and start yelling.

Customer: “Why didn’t you tell us we could track the old phone?! We have a friend who works at Apple, and he knows all about it, and he said that you didn’t do your job because you didn’t try to locate the phone first!”

Me: “Sir, the very first thing you mentioned was that you had already tried to locate it.”

Customer: “Well, I meant find it.”

Me: “Okay, well, ‘locating an iPhone’ usually means using ‘Find My iPhone’. Simple communication error, but we can still try while it’s active.”

But no, he wouldn’t listen to anything I was saying at that point, was acting like a total p***k, and became kind of scary. He ended up calling our district manager later in the week. The DM finally lost his temper and gave the guy a long-winded lecture about behaving like an adult, treating retail employees like human beings, etc. The guy came in later and actually apologized!

Related:
Not-So-Smart-Phone, Part 47
Not-So-Smart-Phone, Part 46
Not-So-Smart-Phone, Part 45
Not-So-Smart-Phone, Part 44
Not-So-Smart-Phone, Part 43

I work for a small, independently-owned gluten-free bakery/deli. The gluten-free nature of the bakery is signposted clearly under the name of the store, as well as all over the menu. We are in a very affluent part of town, so the clientele sometimes come with an air of superiority, even the kids.

A group of teenage boys come in, and they’re kind of loud and rude but nothing I haven’t seen before. One of them comes up to me, and right off the bat, he is insulting, antagonistic, and just being a jerk.

Teenager: “Okay, I’m going to ask this slowly so that you can understand.”

Me: “You can speak at a normal pace, sir.”

Teenager: “Cute. I want the meatball sub, but it must be gluten-free. I’ve had people fired in the past for f****** up and giving me gluten.”

Me: “I assure you, sir, that everything in this place is gluten-free. It’s kinda our thing.”

This teen looks surprised for a second, giving the impression that he didn’t know we were exclusively gluten-free, but he recovers quickly to save face.

Teenager: “Whatever. I’ll take the sub, and make sure it’s gluten-free. I know that’s a lot to process, but I am sure you can do it with some effort.”

His friends are laughing behind him while he just stands there with a smug look on his face. True, he is being an obnoxious little s***, but I eat obnoxious little s***s for breakfast.

I make each one their sub and they eat them in the corner. They’re all being jerks, but only the obnoxious little s*** insisted on his being gluten-free.

I go over to the table and ask how their subs were. Then, I talk to one of the other teens.

Me: “Oh, how was your gluten-free sub?”

Other Teenager: “I didn’t order mine gluten-free.”

Me: “Oh, you didn’t?”

Teenager: *Shouting* “No! It was me! I ordered mine gluten-free!”

Me: “Oh. Then I can’t remember which one had gluten in it.”

Teenager: “What?! You [string of somehow ableist, racist, and homophobic slurs all in one go]! Are you serious?!”

Me: “I guess I made an oopsie.”

Teenager: “No! Nooo! You a**hole! I have a date tonight! I’m gonna be farting and gassy all through dinner! You a**hole!”

He stands up, panicking, and rushes out while texting furiously on his phone. Since he seems to be the leader of this pack of jerks, they all silently get up and follow him. I start cleaning up the table while my manager comes over.

Manager: “Was that really necessary?”

Me: “The store literally has ‘gluten-free bakery’ under the name, and he was a total jerk. If we have to deal with the idiots once in a while, I don’t see why we can’t f*** with the really deserving ones.”

My manager just sighed and let me carry on. We never heard back from Mr. Gluteen.

I work in a big box store near the New York/New Jersey border. A customer is buying a car seat for his toddler.

Child: “What’s that for, Daddy?”

Customer: “It’s for you to sit in, for when we’re driving. You’re too big for your old one.”

Child: “Why do I need it, Daddy?”

Customer: “To be safe when we’re driving, and what does Daddy say when he’s driving?”

I expect the child to repeat some mantra about road safety. The tiny dude instead raises a little fist in the air.

Child: “Go back to Jersey, a**hole!”

The customer blinks and then just turns to face me in defeat.

Customer: “Oh, hey, fun fact: children are like parrots!”