(I get into work to find out that a customer that I had problems with a month ago had stopped in. This customer tried to rent on account that had an ID check required, and we couldn’t get ahold of the person on the account. I let her rent that one time because she had little children with her, but I told her that to rent again she either needs to bring an ID to set up her own account, or she needs to make sure the person gives us a call or is reachable. This time, I am informed that she was in by my employee and from a note from another customer. When we informed her why we couldn’t rent to her, she became very aggressive. She called my employee names and even threatened to be back for her. I get the “a-ok” from a district manager to kick her out of the store.)

Me: “Hi! Did you find everything okay today?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “Great! What is the number on the account?”

Customer: “DONALD TRUMP!”

Me: “I’m sorry? I need the number for the account.”

Customer: “Donald Trump!”

Me: *laughs* “I’m sorry, what is the number?”

(She tells me the number, but it is a number she bullied a previous employee to change to. We deleted that number due to the fact that she isn’t the account holder and doesn’t have the right to use it.)

Me: “I’m sorry, it looks like it isn’t coming up.”

Customer: “Whaaaat? That’s weeeirdd.”

Me: “Again, I’m sorry about that. What is the name on the account?”

Customer: “[Account Name].”

Me: “Great! I found it! It looks like I need to see a photo ID.”

Customer: “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t have one.”

Me: “No worries, I just need to give the account holder a call to make sure it’s okay. Do you know her number?”

Customer: *tells me number*

(As I am beginning to dial it, she starts to rant about how poorly the two other girls have treated her the last two days. She proceeds to call them names to my face, and then finishes it up with, “Not like you give a s***.” While I was all for humoring her to see if maybe she had just been having a bad day before and took it out on my employees, I stop what I am doing and put down the phone.)

Me: “I’m sorry, is your name [Customer]?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “All right, well, I’m really sorry, but this store is no longer going to be able to rent to you. I had customers leave notes and call here earlier today about how you brought a very negative experience to them, and we take a positive atmosphere here very seriously. If you want, I can give you the district manager’s email and you can talk with her about resolving the situation. Until then, you will not be allowed back in the store.”

Customer: “So, you’re telling me, my niece and I just walked here in the cold at nine pm at night, and we can’t rent movies?”

Me: “Yes, I’m sorry. Normally, I’d inform you to have a photo ID to set up your own account, but because I had customers complain, I have to ask you never to return.”

Customer: *picks up her niece* “What do we think of this mean lady?”

Niece: *three years old* “You’re a [slur].”

Me: “Okey dokey. Well, here is the email. You know what you need to do.”

(It’s a quiet evening and I am the only staff member on the shop floor. I am a 19-year-old female. Two middle-aged male customers walk into the store. They browse for a bit and then bring a DVD and some snacks to the counter.)

Me: “Good evening. How are you both?”

Customer: “Hi. Just these, please.”

(The customer places the items on the desk, and I ring them through while making general conversation. The transaction goes normally, until this…)

Customer: “So, did it hurt when you got your nipples pierced?”

Me: “Um…”

(I have my nose, ears, and navel pierced, but no other piercings, so I am not sure how to reply to this.)

Customer: “Oh, my God… Nose! I meant, did it hurt when you got your nose pierced?!”

Me: *relieved and trying not to laugh* “Oh! Yes, it did a little, but it wasn’t too bad.”

(I finish the transaction, somehow managing not to dissolve into laughter, and the customers leave the store. At this point, I can no longer keep it in, and burst into laughter, just as my supervisor walks onto the shop floor. I explain to him what just took place.)

Supervisor: “He was probably just trying his hardest not to stare at your chest, and that ended up being a Freudian slip!”

(It’s the first week of my first job: a closing shift on a Friday.)

Supervisor: “Grab the vacuum from the back and clean the store while I close one of the registers.”

(You know how you vacuum your house? You methodically clean the entire floor, making sure to overlap so you get everything. Well, after about ten minutes of me cleaning and getting about ten feet, a coworker comes over to show me how you vacuum in retail.)

Coworker: “Only clean the big stuff. If it looks clean, it is clean. This should only take you ten minutes for the whole store.”

Me: *embarrassed* “Oh, I gotcha.”

(None of us realized how naive I was until that moment. They made sure to explain the tasks for me if I hadn’t done them before from then on.)

(I work at a relatively well-known movie rental store — yes, some are still open. I’m out running returns back when I hear this conversation between a customer and my manager. My manager has been here for years and honestly knows pretty much every movie we have, but she has a tendency to be a bit abrupt with customers.)

Customer: “Can you tell me where [Movie I’ve never heard of] is?”

Manager: “Sorry, we don’t have that one.”

Customer: *pauses* “What do you mean you don’t have it? Aren’t you going to—” *makes typing motion* “—check?”

(Neither my manager or I are at the computers; we’re both doing stock, and both have arms full of movies.)

Manager: “With all due respect, I could, but I know for a fact that we don’t have that movie.”

Customer: *huffs away*

Customer’s Son: “Mum, where is it?”

Customer: *loudly* “Apparently, they don’t have it, because that woman knows everything!”

(I’m starting to get a bit amused by this and have just walked back to the desk.)

Customer: *to me* “Where is [Movie I haven’t heard of]?”

(I decide I had better back up my manager a bit here.)

Me: “That doesn’t sound familiar; I don’t think we have it, but let me check.” *pause while I check the system* “Sorry, ma’am, we don’t. It doesn’t look like we’ve ever had a movie by that name.”

Customer: “That’s ridiculous! All your other stores have it!”

(At this point, I know explaining how franchises work won’t go down well, so I enter “let’s just get this customer out as happy as we can” mode.)

Me: “Sorry about that again. If you’re looking for anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

(The customer huffs off again. Finally, she’s back with the movies she decided on. I try to offer her a deal where it’s the same price if she wants one more, but she doesn’t even listen, just demanding I ring her through. I get up her account. She has some late fees, more than our maximum balance to be allowed to rent.)

Me: *knowing how well this will go down* You do have late fees of [amount]; did you want to fix any of that up today?”

Customer: “That’s ridiculous. No, I don’t!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you do. They were for [movies]. Unfortunately, we will require you to fix up some of that today.”

(Now her son breaks into the conversation.)

Son: “We’ll pay a dollar! We’ll pay a dollar!”

(He seems to find this quite amusing and speaks over the top of us.)

Customer: “FINE! Put $5 on it, then.”

Me: “Thank you, ma’am. The total is [amount].”

Customer: *as she’s swiping her card* “That’s ridiculous! We could’ve gone to the movies for that!”

(I wish I could respond that she could’ve, but would only have only gotten a quarter of the entertainment time she currently has with her movies. I decide not to say anything and just get her out of the store.)

Me: “That’s approved. Thank you. Here are your movies.”

Customer: *to her son, loudly, so the whole store can hear* “Well, [Son], I guess we’re downloading next time!” *huffs out*

(I turn to the next customer, who happens to be one of my favourite regulars.)

Regular: “What a b****!”

Me: “You said it, not me!”

My first job was at a movie rental store that just recently had the very last location close down in the US.

The way our account numbers worked was that there was a series of numbers to denote our location, and the last five digits were the customer. Our store was 291299, and my account was *****, so my entire number was 291299*****. But there were a few combinations that would never get used, so some employees at some point made fake accounts with joke info.

11111 was Homer Simpson with his address in Springfield.

66666 was Lucifer in Hell, and the phone number was, of course, all sixes.

22222 was Bruce Wayne in Gotham, and he had Dick Grayson marked as able to rent on his account.