This story reminded me of one of my own.

It was about a week before Christmas. I’m used to snowfall, and am usually prepared for doing some shoveling and scraping to get my car free in the mornings. Except this morning, I had parked by the curb the night before because I was visiting my mom, who lived nearby.

This wouldn’t normally be a problem, even with the foot-and-a-half fall we’d had that night, except apparently the snowplow decided to come along the not-so-busy road rather early that day, and basically buried my poor car in at least three feet of very hard plow-packed snow.

I grabbed my shovel and went to work, but I knew it wasn’t going to be a fast or easy job, so I texted my manager that I would be a little late that morning, complete with a picture of the snow burial.

The combination of freezing temperatures and the plow pushing and packing the snow meant my tires were trapped in essentially ice blocks, and there were small icebergs on either end blocking me in.

I’d been struggling for about twenty minutes and had barely made a dent in the mess when another plow came by. This was not an official plow, but a personal pickup truck that someone had rigged a full-size plow onto for ease of winter driving. He pulled up close and shooed me away from the vehicle and then did some very careful maneuvering of his giant plow, getting as close to my car as possible on all sides.

Luckily, there was nobody in front of or behind me, so he had the room. He did several short little passes, each time coming closer to my car to try and get as much snow as possible. Then he got out and used the shovel to break up the chunks of ice left near my tires and push them aside as well.

Once he was sure I was free, he hopped back on his plow and continued on his merry way. Probably took him maybe ten minutes where it would have taken me at least about forty-five minutes or more to get out. My manager was pleasantly surprised I made it and just as pleased by the helpful stranger as I was.

Related:
Mister Plow Is Canadian?!

I work at a Dairy Queen. One wintry day, it is roughly -30°C (about -22°F) and the wind is absolutely howling; it’s the kind of weather that makes you regret having skin. But it’s not snowing, which means driving is quite safe, which means the city is as busy as ever – as much as many of us would rather stay home than even walk between a warm car and a warm building. As such, we’re getting quite a few customers.

Or, rather, we should be. 

I have one customer eating in; the rest are going through the drive-thru. They’re also LEAVING, without placing any orders, and because of the layout of this location, I am fully aware of the cause – my coworker, who is manning the drive-thru window. I try and stop it from happening, and am constantly insulted in return. It’s not long before the manager comes out of his office, looking equal parts upset and confused.

Manager: “Okay, what is going on? I keep seeing customers come up to the drive-thru and then speeding through so fast it’s a miracle they’re not crashing in this wind. Why isn’t anyone placing any orders?”

Me: “Because every time a customer comes here, to a business best-known for selling ice cream, and places an order that contains ice cream, this jacka**, who works for a business best-known for selling ice cream, insults them for ordering ice cream, and tells them to order something other than ice cream.”

Manager: “What the h***?! [Coworker], is this true?”

Coworker: “It’s f****** minus thirty! What sort of dumb s*** eats ice cream in the middle of winter?”

Manager: “People who like ice cream! Are you seriously telling me you are mistreating our customers and refusing to take people’s orders because you wouldn’t order the same thing?”

Coworker: “I’m not taking those orders because they’re f****** stupid!”

A brief shouting match ensued; [Manager] ended up firing [Coworker] on the spot and taking over the drive-thru for himself.

I work in a part of the states that’s used to heavy snow, but some customers never seem to figure it out. We get reports of a heavy snowstorm coming in, and every shopper panics.

We’re super busy, and the snow is already coming down, but still pretty manageable. A customer storms up to me near the entrance. They get my attention by clicking their fingers in my face, which immediately aggravates me.

Customer: “There are no carts!”

Me: “I apologize. We only have one guy out there to gather them, as everyone else is on registers at the moment.”

Customer: “That’s unacceptable! You need to have carts waiting for customers!”

He clicks his fingers in my face again, which breaks my customer service shell.

Me: “If customers returned the carts after using them, we wouldn’t need to spend so much time rounding them up.”

Customer: “Oh, so it’s the customers’ fault, is it?”

Me: “Yes, sir, it literally is. The cart guy’s job exists only because customers don’t return the carts.”

Customer: “Then he should be happy he has a job!”

Me: “He’s not complaining about the job, sir, but we’re very busy, and it’s snowing, so it’s taking a while.”

Customer: “He shouldn’t be using the snow as an excuse!”

Me: “Sir, I can see five carts in the lot right now. What’s stopping you from going out to get one?”

Customer: “Are you kidding? In this snow?!”

I’m on a call with a customer when we get the alarm to go to our tornado shelter (sadly, more and more common these days).

Me: “Ma’am, I need to end this call now as the tornado sirens are going off. I will call you back when I’m at my desk, and it is safe to do so.”

Caller: “No, you will deal with my issue now. I was on hold for over fifteen minutes!”

Me: “Ma’am, I said I will call you back, so there’s no need for you to call back and hold.”

Caller: “No, you will stay on the phone until my issue is resolved!”

Me: “Ma’am, as I said, there is a tornado warning in effect, so this is not up for debate. It is not safe for me to stay on the line, so I will be—”

Caller: “—I don’t give a f*** if the building collapses on you, you will deal with my issue and—”

I hang up and head to the tornado station. I already spent two sentences longer on that call than I was supposed to, and I certainly wasn’t going to stay any longer if she was going to say stuff like THAT!

When we got back to the phones, she was calling in again, on hold, and went straight to shouting and demanding to speak to a supervisor to complain about me.

Supervisor: “Sure thing, ma’am. Let me pull up a recording of the call so we can verify what our associate said, and also what you said.”

Caller: *Click.*

Supervisor: “Hello? Huh, she’s gone.”

It’s almost as if the recorded calls wouldn’t paint the callers in a good light!

Related:
A Storm Of Entitlement, Part 8
A Storm Of Entitlement, Part 7
A Storm Of Entitlement, Part 6
A Storm Of Entitlement, Part 5
A Storm Of Entitlement, Part 4

It’s my first job ever, and I’m a few months into it.

Boss: “How are you finding things?”

Me: “Pretty good! Everyone has been nice, even the customers!”

Boss: “Yeah, that’s cool, but remember we’re entering hurricane season. Customers get very upset during hurricane season.”

Me: “Why?”

Boss: “Because we have to close during hurricanes.”

Me: “We’re a craft store.”

Boss: “Yes, but the fury of a hurricane is nothing compared to the fury of grandmother O’Halloran when anyone gets between her and her knitting supplies.”

I laughed it off as some kind of joke.

And then our first hurricane hit. We’re closing early to everyone can get home and do what they need to do, when a group of old ladies starts knocking on the door.

Customer #1: “Hellooooo?”

Customer #2: “You seem to have accidentally locked the door.”

Me: *Talking through the glass doors.* “It’s not accidental, ma’am. We closed about ten minutes ago. We’re all about to leave.”

Customer #1: “But… why?”

Me: “The hurricane?”

Customer #2: “Well, yes, we know about that, that’s why we’re here! If I lose power, I want my knitting to keep me occupied.”

Me: “Well… anyway.”

I start to try to leave, but they keep shouting.

Customer #1: “Wait! Where are you going?!”

Customer #2: “Aren’t you going to let us in?!”

Me: “No, ma’am, we’re closed.”

Customer #1: “But why?!”

I blink. Didn’t we just do this?

Me: “Because of the hurricane, ma’am!”

Customer #2: “Just let us in, will you! We just need to select some colors and—”

My boss suddenly appears behind me.

Boss: “Mrs. O’Halloran, Mrs. Norman. Please stop picking on [My Name] here and go home. Every hurricane you do this, and every time you’re surprised that we have homes and lives to get home to, just like you do! We’re open seven days a week for twelve hours a day, but you always decide when a hurricane is due, that you need to come and top up your supplies! Not today! Go home and hunker down!”

Customer #1: “Well, I never! I have never been treated so rudely in my life! I shall complain!”

Customer #2: “As will I! You expect to remain in business like this?”

Boss: “No, I expect to stay safe like this. Business can wait until tomorrow.”

My boss whisked me away and told me to ignore the rest of the tasks, but…

Boss: “Leave by the back. Those two will be out front tapping on the glass a little while longer yet. They usually leave when it starts to rain… probably because they’re at risk of melting.”