I work at a well-known, widespread sub shop. We are actually the busiest store in my town because of our convenient location to a hospital, a portion of our college campus, and many forms of public transportation. When the students come in for the start of school, our store can get pretty crazy sometimes.

Move-in week for freshmen was about a week ago. It’s early August and, due to a sick coworker, my manager and I are the only ones working during the morning and lunch rush.

Me: “How ya doing?! What can I get for you today?”

The customer mumbles and looks at the paper in her hands a few times.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. What did you say?”

More mumbling and sighing from the customer. This continues on for a few moments before I get frustrated. I have a line out the door behind her. Finally, I pull down the protective glass separating us. She can easily see over the top of the line while I barely reach her neck. I hunch over and speak a little louder to combat the noises of the oven behind me, thinking she can’t hear me.

Me: “I’m so sorry, ma’am, but I can’t hear a word you’re saying. You have to speak up.”

Customer: *Heavy sigh* “I need three sandwiches!”

Me: “Fantastic! Can you tell me the breads first?”

Customer: “What?!”

Me: “Can you tell me the different breads for your subs first? So I can start cutting them to prepare properly.”

Customer: “Ugh, FINE.”

She goes on, giving me short, curt answers to all my basic questions. The line behind her is slowly growing and the oven behind me has bread that needs to be taken out of it or it will burn. The door is open to prevent that from happening, but our AC is busted and the entire store is stifling at this point. By now, I can send her food on to be finished with veggies and whatnot.

Me: “All right. Now, what kind of cheese do you want on these?”

Customer: “Swiss on all.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but [Restaurant] doesn’t carry Swiss. All my cheeses are labeled here.”

I point.

Customer: “Ugh! I don’t know! White!”

I am visibly upset and on the verge of saying something I really shouldn’t. I can’t help but look between her food and my selection.

Me: “But… they’re all white.”

Customer: “AMERICAN!”

My store is so hot by now, and my oven keeps beeping because the door is still open and we’re all sweating. The customers behind her are just as upset as I am at this point so I put the cheese on and send her food on its way as fast as I can.

I run to take out all my bread and nearly hit my manager with a hot pan. We’re both extremely sweaty and miserable and the lunch rush has only just started. I go back to my other customers who, thankfully, have easier orders and speak clearly, everyone just wanting to get their food and leave. I rush through about two dozen people’s orders before I have a small break to breathe. I run the register while my manager finishes wrapping up the difficult customer’s orders.

Me: “So, I have three six-inch [orders]. Did you want anything else with that?”

Customer: “Why is it so hot in here?! I can’t even think!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. Our AC is broken right now, so there’s not much I can do about it.”

I try to joke.

Me: “If anything, you might be more comfortable eating on the sidewalk. I bet it’s cooler outside by now.”

Customer: “HOW DARE YOU?!”

She pays and stomps off.

Two hours later, a close friend and coworker comes in to start his shift and our line is efficiently taken care of. We have a temperature gauge sitting on top of our oven and the highest it reached all day was about 110F, taking into consideration whenever we had to open the oven to get any bread out.

All of us are ready to pass out and I’ve found myself sitting in the freezer just to cool down. Finally, we’ve reached a break three hours after my encounter with the difficult customer and I’ve all but forgotten her. As I’m doing dishes, my manager is doing paperwork in his office but starts to laugh loudly a few minutes in. He comes out to me at the sink.

Me: “Uh… [Manager], what’s so funny?”

Manager: “After over a year of working here, with a flawless track record and attendance, you have received your very first complaint. Congratulations.”

Turns out, that woman kept her receipt to take our survey and gave us all zeroes! In the comments sections, she went on to describe how “compliant and kind-worded” she had been while I had insulted her. She complained that the store was too hot and it was my fault because I was mean to her. She went on to say the employees looked terrible and acted like they didn’t want to serve anyone. She demanded I be fired because I was “conceited” and just a “rude teenager” who didn’t care about anything, and she said that she would never come to our store again.

My manager, who’s only been with the store a few months, immediately emailed his boss about how the woman REALLY acted and said to not give her any form of compensation common to poor reviews. Good riddance to her!

I am running the register at the lumberyard of a hardware store I work at. It is incredibly busy this afternoon. Just then, a young guy with a tool bag is approaching the exit from my right side. He is a scrawny-looking twenty-something white guy with black curly hair and he wears square black glasses. I look over at him and begin my usual customer service spiel.

Me: “Hello, sir! Do you need help with anything?”

He looks at me and holds up the bag.

Bag Guy: “Oh, uh… I already paid for this. My buddy is behind me with the receipt.”

Before I can ask him for more information about this buddy of his, he walks toward the exit. Bear in mind, the store has two sets of sliding doors, so he has only passed the first set.

In the vestibule between the two sets of doors, there is a coworker sitting near the second set of sliding doors. He is there for two reasons: to watch the door and make sure no one tries to enter in that way since it is designated as an exit only, and to update a running counter application that we have on the current number of customers in the store.

We have this happening because of CDC guidelines of allowing only a limited number of people in our store due to current events.

The coworker sees the bag guy heading toward him and notices me trying to ask him about the receipt. He approaches and asks him for a receipt. The bag man pretty much gives the same spiel about the receipt. The coworker tries to get him to stop and produce a receipt, but he keeps walking out of our store.

He is a shoplifter.

At this point, there is nothing we can do. Management forbids us from trying to chase down or confront anyone that steals from us. There are two reasons why this rule was put in place:

1. The shoplifter could get violent and assault any employee who tries to stop him or her. The thief could also pull out a weapon like a knife, gun, or mace and use it on the employee, causing injury or death.
2. Given how lawsuit-happy some people are, the thief may decide to sue the store for wrongful detainment, harassment, discrimination, and so forth. And considering that companies are fearful of lawsuits filed against them, it is a PR nightmare, especially if it turns out the man or woman was innocent.

So, the doorman and I, along with two more coworkers who had tailed the thief, are watching him walk away, feeling rather angry. Suddenly, a rather obese old man in a bright orange shirt runs out the door after the thief. [Orange Shirt] is a regular customer who comes in and buys any leftover non-stock and damaged goods from us for renovations of properties he has.

[Orange Shirt] manages to catch up with the thief, who has been walking towards his truck and not really paying attention. [Orange Shirt] confronts the bag thief, who thinks that [Orange Shirt] is a worker here. He gets rather cocky toward [Orange Shirt].

Bag Guy: “You can’t do anything against me.”

Orange Shirt: “Yeah, I can, because I don’t work there.”

Realizing this, the thief gets rather angry at [Orange Shirt], possibly trying to intimidate him.

Bag Guy: “You think you’re some kind of bada**?”

[Orange Shirt] is having none of it. He stands his ground and glares at the thief.

Orange Shirt: “No… I know I’m a bada**.”

The thief realized he was fighting a losing battle, so he gave up the tool bag and walked away, looking angry. My coworkers and I had a laugh after seeing this, and [Orange Shirt] came back in the store with the tool bag.

Managers checked the tool bag and it was stuffed with a complete toolset worth hundreds of dollars. Apparently, he had been spotted cutting open random tools and stuffing them inside the bag to try to sneak out with them.

What an idiot.

I work at a small chain fast food place famous for our fish. It’s late, about 9:00 pm. Fridays are our busiest days, so I’m tired, behind on my dishes, and going through a lot of mental stress. I just want to get this last hour over with. Three customers walk in. [Customer #1] and [Customer #2] pay together. [Customer #3] pays on his own.

Customer #1: “I’d like a #3.”

Customer #2: *before leaving* “I’ll take a #6.”

Me: “All righty!”

[Customer #2] leaves to go to the bathroom. I finish their order and call out all the food items. [Customer #1] sits down and I make their food. At my restaurant, we usually bring the food to your table just as a kind gesture. I take the food to [Customer #1] and it seems normal. I go back and take the next order.

Customer #3: “I’d like a #3 and add—”

Suddenly, [Customer #1] is yelling at the end of the counter.

Customer #1: “THIS IS WRONG!”

I apologize to [Customer #3] and walk to the table to see what error I made.

Me: “Sir, the #3 is two fish, one chicken, three shrimp.”

Customer #1: “NO! IT’S JUST THE FISH AND CHICKEN!”

I begin to walk to the menu board to show him that he is incorrect, but [Customer #1] just sits back down and glares with his arms crossed. [Customer #2] has walked in from the bathroom. [Customer #1] demands he follow me to the board because I will not back down that I am correct. I’ve worked here for two years; I know this menu better than my own birthday.

Me: *Pointing* “The #3 is here. Two fish, one chicken, three shrimp.”

I then point to the number above.

Me: “The #2 is the two fish, three chicken.”

I’m annoyed because I am being rude to [Customer #3], who tries to defuse the situation and offers to buy his friend the correct meal and simply switch with him. Nope. I walk back around the counter and begin to finish his order.

Ten seconds later, [Customer #2] runs to the counter and begins pointing in my face but only looking at my coworker, who happens to be my best friend. He is leaning on my shoulder to make sure the man doesn’t try to come at me.

Customer #2: “You need to get her to check her f****** attitude and she needs to apologize to my friend for being such a f****** b****!”

Coworker: “SHE’S DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO APOLOGIZE NOW!”

I then promptly finish [Customer #3]’s order with the sweetest attitude I can muster up before storming out for a short smoke break. My manager comes out a few minutes later to ask for my side of the story. 

Manager: “F****** morons. You don’t get paid enough to deal with their s***.”

After our smoke break, my manager and I walked back in smiling and laughing. The men glared at me while I continued to walk to the back.

(I’m working the speedy checkout line and checking a young woman out when an older gentleman of about eighty appears behind her, looking as if he rolled out of bed and drove straight here.)

Me: “Good morning, sir. How are—”

(He literally throws a package of ultra-thin condoms at me, along with a twenty.)

Me: “Would you like this in a bag, sir?”

Customer: *grunts angrily*

(I ring him up, and the drawer opens to give him his change.)

Customer: “Can you keep the change as a tip?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept tips.”

Customer: *angrily* “Well, hurry up, then! She’s at home waiting for me!”

Me: “I am doing my best, sir.”

(I count out his change.)

Me: “Have a nice day, sir.”

(He then grumbled, snatched the bag from me, and then proceeded to run out the door.)

(The resort I work for has many rental units from campsites to deluxe cabins open year-round. I’m currently taking phone calls.)

Me: “Thanks for calling [Company]. My name is [My Name]; how may I help you?”

Customer: “You got any cabins available?”

Me: “For when? For tonight?”

(When people ask this and give no date, it’s for “tonight” 90% of the time, but not this guy:)

Customer: “Ah, no. For [two days from now].”

Me: “It looks like most of our cabins are still open that day.”

(I try to further help him find the cabin that’s right for him, because we have 50+ cabins, and a dozen different layouts and sizes.)

Me: “Do you know which cabin you wanted to rent? Or about what size you needed, like how many bedrooms you need, or how many people you’ll have?”

Customer: “Well, uh, nah. I just wanted to… Hey, how much are they?”

Me: “It would depend on what size cabin you wanted; they range from $160 a night to $600 per night.”

Customer: “Wow, okay, so you can’t tell me how much they are?”

Me: “We have several different sizes of cabins that are all a different cost; it would depend on what size cabin you needed.”

Customer: “I mean, I just wanted to know how much the cabins were.”

(I’m starting to get frustrated at this point; he’s not giving me any information to help him.)

Me: “If you don’t know what size cabin you need, all I can say is that they range from $160 to $600 per night.”

Customer: “Ah, okay, well, tell me what cabin you would like.”

(There’s a very noticeable pause here, because I just can’t fathom how he thinks that will help. I’m thinking I’ll either recommend a one-bedroom cabin that’s too small, or a five-bedroom cabin that costs too much.)

Me: “We have a lot of different options; if you can tell me about how many people you have I can give you a better idea of cost. Do you think it will be two or three people?”

Customer: “Nah, nah, not that many. Uh, um. Well, let me see. So, it may be like eight or ten people.”

(At the lack of basic math skills, I start to suspect prank call, then realize that’s just what I wish it was. My gut tells me he’s just this dumb, but I’m relieved I finally have something to go off of and can start selling.)

Me: “Okay, so, a lot of our cabins can hold six people maximum, and we have just a couple that can hold ten people. A good cabin that would fit your group is the [Cabin #1]; it has [lists all it includes], plus a hot tub outside on the deck. This cabin is $529 per night for one to six people, and $20 more per person after that. So, ten people is $609 per night.”

Customer: “Wow, so really, $600?”

Me: “If you had ten people, yes.”

Customer: “What if I had two people?”

(With most people, I’d suggest a smaller cabin if they only have two people, but this guy seems to be deliberately ignorant, so he’s losing my sympathy.)

Me: “Then it would be $529 per night.”

Customer: “What if I had four people?”

Me: “$529 per night.”

Customer: “Okay, what if the cabin had a hot tub?”

Me: “This cabin does have a hot tub.”

Customer: “Okay, nice, how much is that cabin?”

Me: “That’s the cabin we’re talking about, the [Cabin #1]; it’s $529 per night for one to six people, $609 per night for ten people.”

(Then, his most genuinely insightful line of dialogue is delivered:)

Customer: “Hmm, well, you know, I think I might do a bit more research before deciding. I’ll call you back.”

Me: “Okay, have a nice day.”

​​Customer: *click*

(Every one of our cabins is listed on our website, including photos of inside and out, floor plans, and prices. I also noticed the phone number he dialed to reach us is only listed on the website, so he’d already been to the site once, and decided to call instead of finding the answers for himself.)