(It is closing time. I am cashing out the last few customers of the day, and our customer service desk is closed and locked up, with signs propped up saying to go to a cashier if you need any assistance. A customer comes in hauling one of our store bags loaded with tons of merchandise. She walks over to the customer service desk and stands there waiting. After several moments of no one turning up, she notices the signs, takes both of them, and throws them in the trashcan by the desk. She then stands there waiting… and waiting… and waiting… until I finally get rid of the line by my register.)

Me: “Ma’am, if you need assistance, I can take care of you here.”

Customer: “What? No! I have stuff to return! Where the h*** are the folk who are supposed to be here?”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s closing time; the customer service desk is thus closed.”

Customer: “Nuh-uh, not anymore! I took the signs off; it’s now open! Get someone here so I can return this crap now!”

Me: “Ma’am… taking the signs off the desk and throwing them in the trash does not change the fact that the desk is closed.”

Customer: “YES, IT DOES! I’m the customer! What I say goes! Now, get someone over here!”

(I call the manager over and explain what’s going on.)

Manager: “Ma’am, first off, throwing the signs in the trash counts as destruction of store property. Second off, my cashier is right; the customer service desk is closed, and no returns can be done there. If you have stuff to return, please bring it over here to the register so we can get you taken care of.”

Customer: “What is this, the Twilight Zone? There’s no sign here! The desk isn’t closed!”

Manager: “I’m afraid it is.”

(She finally came over to the register, got her return done, and walked out, muttering about how what just happened made no sense to her.)

(Our hotel is a few blocks away from a homeless shelter, so sometimes the homeless come to feast at our breakfast buffet. A young man in his twenties sits and eats like a wolf.)

Coworker: “Sir, are you a guest here?”

Man: “Naw.”

Coworker: “This is only for guests; you must leave.”

Man: “I’ll eat if I want to! Ain’t no skinny wimmin gonna tell me ta leave!” *still eating like crazy*

Me: “Sir, if you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

Man: “This is a public place!”

(This is a common misconception; though our business is open to the public, it is privately owned.)

Me: “No, it’s not public, and if you continue to stay, I’ll call the police.”

Man: *with full mouth* “Eff you!” *swallows* “D*** government controlled b****es.”

(I picked up the phone and dialed. The man’s grumbles got louder when I asked for the police. A cop showed up, and the man suddenly got up, grabbed about five donuts and three muffins, then ran around like crazy with his cheeks full like a chipmunk. The cop tried to grab him but he was super quick. My coworker and I were dumbfounded, and we never saw him again.)

(This guest is one of those people who is extremely irritable when they don’t have their morning coffee. Free coffee is not technically one of our listed amenities, but we offer some anyway to be nice. This is really early in the morning before breakfast time, and the breakfast crew is busy getting things ready in the kitchen.)

Guest: *on phone* “Is the coffee ready yet?”

Me: “It’s brewing right now, so it’ll be about five minutes.”

Guest: “Fine!”

(She appears in the breakfast area one minute later, sees there’s no ready coffee, and storms up to me.)

Guest: “Where’s the coffee?! I just need a cup of coffee!”

Me: “I’m sorry. I’ll tell the breakfast crew to hurry up with it.”

(I go to tell them, and they say okay, and then I can hear pounding on the kitchen door and the guest yelling, “WHERE’S THE COFFEE?!” so loud that I’m surprised she doesn’t wake up the whole hotel.)

Me: “Please, ma’am, there are rooms nearby; you might wake them…”

Guest: “I don’t care about them. I only care about my coffee! Where is it?! Coffee, coffee, coffee! Is it so hard?! Is it?!”

(The coffee finally comes out, and by then, the guest is having a total meltdown in the lobby, stomping in circles, tearing at her hair, and yelling. Finally, she grabs a cup, pours some coffee, and runs out with it. Some coffee spills out onto her hand and onto the floor in her haste, but she is so furious, she doesn’t even pause… or say thank you.)

Breakfast Crew: *stares at each other in disbelief* “What the f***?”

(I don’t know how coffee shops can stand crazy coffee people!)

(I am quietly working in my office, which is behind the reception desk, when a guest suddenly barges inside and stands next to my chair in a threatening manner. We have a reception desk, and it is not normal or appropriate behaviour for guests to come behind the desk.)

Guest: *yelling* “I still have to give you money!”

Me: “You already paid your tour operator. According to me, you do not have an open bill.”

Guest: *yelling louder* “Yes, I do. I still have to pay something!”

Me: “So what is it you need to pay?”

Guest: *somehow even louder* “That is up to you to tell me!”

Me: “Sir, this is not some kind of guessing game. Please first leave my office and come to the reception desk to explain what you think you owe us.”

(He walks over to the front of the reception desk swearing, but he has calmed down a bit.)

Guest: “I had a beverage.”

Me: “I was in the bar all night last night, and cannot recall seeing you there. I do not have a bar bill from your room. Do you mean you took something out of the fridge in the lobby and forgot to write it on the list?”

Guest: *aggressively* “Yes, that’s what I keep on telling you!”

Me: “But there are no unaccounted bottles out of that fridge. Could you tell me what you took?”

Guest: *going ballistic* “That is up to you to tell me!”

(I just looked at him, stunned. Without looking at me, he threw a two Euro coin in the general direction of the desk, and marched off, ranting and swearing.)

(I work for the local library. On one of my days off, I am doing my grocery shopping when a young boy comes running up to me. I recognize him from our storytimes. He was almost always disruptive and unruly. He acts no differently here:)

Boy: “ I know you! You’re from the library! That means you gotta be nice to me!”

Me: *in my very best apologetic-style library voice* “That’s right, I work at the library. And yes, when we’re at the library, we need to be nice to each other. But right now, we’re not at the library, are we?”

(I could see the wheels spinning for a second or two before he turned around and ran back the way he’d came, yelling “Moooommmmyyyyy!”)