I work at a bookstore chain in both the book area and the attached chain café. While I love the job in general, I also now have a very real understanding of how crazy people can actually be.

One of our regulars in the café has been giving all of the baristas crap for about as long as she’s been buying coffee from us. She always tries to start fights, and when we ask her what is wrong she just says something along the lines of, “You know what you did!” even though we usually have no idea.

One day, she comes in and orders her usual, and the barista making her drink starts casually chatting about the weather with her. It was kind of cloudy and rainy out today, but it’s not too bad.

The customer immediately tries to start a fight.

Customer: “You’re wrong! This weather is terrible!”

Barista #1: “Well, I like this weather, and so do a lot of other people. It all depends on your preference, I guess.”

Customer: “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You shouldn’t be fighting with the customer because the customer is always right.”

No, really, she said that.

Apparently, the customer’s opinion on the weather is also the only right one. She finally leave with her coffee, sufficiently pissed at one of the sweetest girls I work with.

THE NEXT DAY, she comes back again for her usual, and who should be working but the barista who dared to argue with her. Another barista who knows the story decides to take over her order and makes the mistake of trying to engage in polite conversation.

The woman keeps glaring at the girl she fought with yesterday and tells [Barista #2]:

Customer: “I just don’t know what to do.”

Barista #2: “What do you mean?”

Customer: “I have the feeling that if I talk to [Barista #1] again, I’ll punch her in the face.”

[Barista #2] immediately calls a manager to tell them everything that has happened so far. The manager approaches the customer.

Manager: “I’ve been waiting a long time for you to do something like this. Threatening an employee is something I can finally act on. You’re banned for life. Please leave and never come back.”

The customer glared but complied. It was almost as if she was used to being banned from places.

During a summer session at the university I attended, one of the students organized a trip to nearby Lassen Volcanic National Park. The park is at a relatively high elevation, and the organizer did not realize that this meant that, even in late June, much of the snow would still not be melted.

When we attempted to visit the geothermally active area called “Bumpass Hell,” which features mud pots, boiling springs, and fumaroles, we found that the trailhead was inaccessible, blocked by about a foot and a half of snow.

When we returned to the school, we were able to report, in all honesty, “We tried to go to Hell, but it was closed because it had frozen over.”

I’m doing some grocery shopping and it is hot as heck. The store has some AC, but staff have also put some fans out on the shop floor to keep the air circulating.

A shopper walks up to one of the fans, lifts up her dress, and starts cooling her very, VERY sweaty body against the industrial-strength fan. Flicks of her sweat start spraying along the aisle and some of the items. An older woman shopper is caught in the crossfire.

Older Woman Shopper: “How disrespectful! Go get a cold shower; don’t be the cold shower!”

Sweaty Customer: “F*** off, you old b****. It’s a hundred degrees!”

Older Woman Shopper: “And? It’s the same temperature for you as it is for the rest of us! You don’t see anyone else spraying their s*** all over the store!”

Sweaty Customer: “God wasted a good opportunity not to kill you in this heatwave!”

Older Woman Shopper: “God wasted a good a**hole when he put teeth in your mouth!”

I snorted loudly. So did a staff member who came by to intervene. The argument was over. The heatwave had caused its best burn.

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I was walking around town when a sudden downpour left me with little choice but to run for cover. I ducked into the nearest public building — a library — and stood between the outer doors and the inner set that led to the library itself. The head librarian came out almost immediately.

Librarian: “We don’t allow loitering.”

Me: “I’m just waiting for the rain to pass. I’ll stay right here.”

Librarian: “If you aren’t here to use the library, you must leave!”

She grabbed me by the arm, opened the outer door, and shoved me back into the rain. I stood there until she walked away and then went back inside, going through both sets of doors. She spun around, glaring at me.

Librarian: “I said leave!”

Me: “I need a book.”

Librarian: “What book?”

Me: “This one.”

I picked a random book off the returns cart, sat down, and began reading. It was some kind of advanced mathematical book, probably the most boring thing I’ve ever tried to read, but I sat there until the librarian walked away. I took the book with me into the bathroom and used the hand dryer to partially dry myself off. When I came back out, the librarian was watching me again, so I sat back down with my book and tried to look like I was reading.

Half an hour later, the rain stopped. I put the book on the returns cart and left. The librarian glared as I walked by, but I just smiled and thanked her for the book.

The day after a heavy wind storm at our house, a small pine tree in the front yard has come down and is leaning against the house. Since I have to work, my adult son thinks he will help and cut up and remove the tree for us.

He is up on the roof with my Sawzall and a bright orange extension cord. Partway into the project, the local SWAT team arrives.

SWAT Officer: “Lay down the weapon and put up your hands!”

He was being held at gunpoint by several officers in full riot gear. He gently put down the saw and, as they instructed, carefully climbed down the ladder.

After he explained to the officer in charge that it was a saw, not a rifle, the guns were finally lowered, although one rookie kept his hand on his sidearm until told by the lead officer to go back to the van and wait there.

It seems a neighbor had seen him up on the roof with something in his hand and called 911. We laugh about it now, but at the time, staring down the barrels of several anxious police officers’ guns, my son almost had to change his shorts.