I used to work at a video rental place in the town where I went to college. The wealthiest guy in town – easily a millionaire – made his money in payday loans, earning off the backs of people he took advantage of.
His son was a frequent customer and was a real douche. He had the same first name as his dad and he kept taking his dad’s credit card to pay for stuff. He let that slip once so I told him:
Me: “You won’t be allowed to do that anymore.”
He tried this a couple more times, getting more and more of a jerk each time. Finally, his dad came in and demanded an explanation.
Me: “Sir, your son can’t use your card without you being present.”
Customer: “Are you seriously telling me how I can spend my own f****** money, little checkout girl? I could f****** buy you! My son can go out and buy a f****** plane right now in cash! Who the h*** do you think you are telling him he can’t buy a bag of f****** popcorn?”
He continues his curse-filled berating and talking to me like I am gutter trash. As he’s ranting, I – as a shift leader – leave a comment on his account and every one of his family members that they’ll have to show ID and can never rent with a single cent of late fee on their account (we usually have a bit of a grace amount). When he finally stops for a breath.
Me: “Then buy a f****** plane then, but you will never see ‘Fievel Goes West’ for as long as I f****** work here!”
I’m not sure if it was because no one usually talks to him like that, let alone a “little checkout girl”, but my standing up for myself seemed to stop him in his tracks.
Customer: “F*** this place.”
He storms out. My manager told me to NEVER do that again, but also chuckled a little as he hated the guy too.
It was a potentially dangerous thing to do in a small town where the one rich guy had his fingers in a lot of local pies, but I wasn’t going to let him talk to me like that.