(I live very close to a library and often go there to help out. The librarians all know and respect me. I am however, quite young.)

Librarian: “Hello, [My Name].”

Me: “Hello! Anything you need done today?”

Librarian: “Could you shelve the books?”

(I start shelving the books — a whole cart full — when this particular patron comes in.)

Patron: *looking at me* “You know, you really shouldn’t be messing with their books. They work hard to shelve them!”

Me: “I am shelving them. I volunteer here.”

Patron: “No, you don’t! You’re too young to be working here!”

Me: “I don’t work here. I volunteer here.”

(The patron keeps badgering me, so I ignore her and keep working. When I’m almost done with the cart, she comes back.)

Patron: “Why are you still messing with the books? You don’t work here!”

Me: “Fine! Ask me anything about this library; I’ll answer correctly.”

Patron: “How much for printing?”

Me: “A black and white page is 25 cents, a color text page is one dollar, and a color image is two dollars.”

Patron: “Anyone can do that.” *seeing a librarian come out of the back room* “Miss! Did you know this girl has been messing up your books for the past hour?”

Librarian: “[My Name]? No, she was shelving them. She volunteers here.”

Patron: *taken aback* “Well, I bet she shelved them wrong.”

Librarian: *doing a quick run through* “Nope. They are all here. [My Name], how about a cookie?”

(I march myself into the back room, get a cookie, and eat it in front of the awestruck patron.)

Patron: *huffs and angrily stomps out of the library*

Me: “By the way, those books are due back in two weeks!”

I work part time at a department store and there are a lot of new employees that are holiday help who don’t know the rules and ways to do things, so some signs are put up in the fitting rooms and other places with instructions for them.

One customer misinterprets a sign and is incredibly upset. She rips the sign off of the wall and shows it to an associate and starts yelling at her about how racist it is.

The sign said something like “Only use the white children’s hangers for children’s clothing.”

Even after the associate showed the customer that the larger adult size hangers are black and the smaller children’s clothing size hangers are white, the woman was still insisting that it was racism and wanted to speak to the manager, who also explained that it was not racism.

Seriously. Retail.

(I work for a pizza place in a city as a delivery driver. We have a 30 minute policy that if we’re 30 minutes late, the delivery is free. I have to take a delivery across the whole city. As I arrive in the neighborhood, it doesn’t appear nice, and neither does the lady at the house I’m delivering to.)

Customer: “Jesus f****** Christ, there you are! We’ve been waiting for a f****** hour now!”

Me: *takes out phone to check time* “Ma’am, it’s only been 27 minutes; you need to pay for the pizza. The total comes to—”

Customer: “Excuse me? B****, I’m not paying for no god-d*** pizza! You’re late; we get the food for free.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but I can’t give you the pizza until you pay me.”

Customer: “How much is the charge?”

Me: “$67.84.”

(She ordered a lot of large pizzas, expecting me to be late.)

Customer: “No. No f****** way I’m paying some dumb b**** for some overcharged pizzas.”

Me: *takes out phone* ” Look, it’s now only been 29 minutes, and I came here two minutes ago, ma’am, so please pay or you won’t get any pizza.”

Customer: *grabs my phone and throws it as hard on the ground as she possibly can and proceeds to stomp on it* “I don’t see no f****** time. All I see is your destroyed property on my porch! Now, give me my f****** pizzas!”

Me: “You will NEVER get these pizzas, you hear me? NEVER! Because all you do is act like a f****** jackass. This isn’t a zoo, is it? NO, IT’S A F****** HOUSE. And guess what? This whole conversation is being recorded!”

 (I had opened the Voice Memo app on my iPod while she destroyed my flip phone. I went back to the restaurant and talked with the manager. I played the conversation and he listened intently. A week after the incident, the horrid customer was arrested for stabbing a delivery driver who didn’t bring her a Coke.)

(I come to check out. While waiting to put my groceries on the counter, first an older gentleman with only a bag of chips and later a kid with only a carton of ice cream get in line behind me and I let both of them go before me when I notice. Shortly after I start to put on my stuff, the next customer to get in line behind me addresses me rudely. Note that I usually leave a gap for other customers with one or two items at the beginning.)

Customer: “Let me go in front of you.”

(I turn around and look first at her cart which is about as full as mine, then her.)

Me: “Why?”

Customer: “You let those two go first, so you should let me, too.”

Me: *blinks confused* “No?”

Customer: *glares* “Yes.”

Me: *thinks that she maybe is in a hurry* “Do you have to be somewhere? Because if you don’t, I really don’t have a reason to let you go first.”

Customer: “That’s none of your business. You only don’t want to let me go first because you are sexist.”

Me: “What?”

Customer: “You heard me!”

Me: “So, you are saying I, obviously female, am sexist for letting two males who only had one thing each? Did I get that right?”

Customer: “Yes!”

Me: *turns around and proceeds putting my stuff on the counter*

(For a moment the customer is quiet before she starts squeezing between me and the other line with some of her stuff in her arms. Thankfully my cart has turned slightly and is blocking her.)

Me: “What are you doing?”

Customer: “You clearly left some space for ME because you do realize this is my rightful place, so I am taking it.”

Me: “No. That space is for one to two-item customers. Which at this point I am willing to let go in front of me even if they arrive after you, because you have been a jerk to me this entire time and I am a bit petty. Considering other customers probably heard you from across the shop, they will know why.”

(The customer continues to glare at me while I finish putting my groceries on the band and starts slamming her own onto it long before I am finished and not even just behind mine, instead putting her first item next to my last one. When I move to move it a bit back to put the divider-triangle-thing between our groceries she grabs my wrist.)

Customer: “Don’t touch my f***ing groceries!” *I refuse to answer that and instead go to move my own item* “WHAT DID I JUST SAY!”

Me: “I want to put my own item away so I can place the di—”

Customer: “NO! IF YOU DON’T LET ME GO FIRST, YOU PAY FOR MY GROCERIES!”

Me: “No. Let go of my wrist. You are starting to hurt me and if you damage it, I will take up charges.”

(Shocked, the customer let go and I grabbed my item, placed the divider, and started stacking my groceries, which I usually don’t like doing because I am terrible at balancing things. The rest of me paying for my groceries thankfully went out without a hitch and the cashier apologized for not reacting but said the way I was standing up to the customer suggested I had everything under control. I was too nervous to tell her the reason I hadn’t looked around for help was that that would have required eye contact which I am pretty much unable to initiate or hold.)

(I’m a customer here. It’s hot, it’s muggy, and I’m fresh off of work as well as feeling pretty wrung out. I’m not exactly the most attentive, so I’m mostly keeping to myself as I do my shopping. Instead of waiting in line, I take advantage of the self-check out and am ringing up my groceries when an older woman slams a bag of cherries down on the check out next to me, and stands there. Staring. Again, sorta zombie here, didn’t notice until she started clearing her throat.)

Me: “…can I help you?”

Stranger: “Yes! You can give me your member card!”

(For the record, this grocery store only has a savings and gas card; it does not, nor has it ever, required a membership to shop here.)

Me: “Uh… well, first off, no. Secondly, why not just go get your own? They’re free at the customer service desk.”

Stranger: “Just give me yours!”

Me: “Again, no.”

(I don’t have the physical card since it’s a family card, but like hell is she getting the phone number on it.)

Me: “Just go get yourself one if you live in town; if you don’t, well, suck it up and pay the extra what, fifty cents?”

Stranger: “How dare you, you f****** c***! I HAVE BEEN A PILLAR OF THIS COMMUNITY FOR ALMOST FIFTY YEARS. HOW DARE YOU TREAT YOUR BETTERS WITH SUCH DISRESPECT!”

Me: *when she finally ran out of breath* “…well, d***. And here I thought you were just a stuck up b****. Now I know the difference; you’re a b**** with that pillar stuck clear up your a**. Enjoy the cherries.”

(The look on her face warmed my cold, dead heart quite nicely, I must admit.)