I am a concierge in a boutique luxury hotel that has a very swanky roof top lounge near that overlooks Pike Place Market. Locals and guests alike flock here for the posh setting and panoramic views. We’ve had a chaotic night when our valet garage has an issue with the sprinkler system meaning my boss is back and forth between the fire panel in his office and on the phone with the fire department. That being said police and fire men are filtering off and on our property. This night two bar patrons, a couple, are smoking in the valet zone out front when my manager approaches to let them know they must smoke 20 ft away from any doors in compliance with Washington state law. They seem to understand. Once my manager has gone inside and to his back desk the guy comes busting through the lobby doors.

Male Patron: Where is your pussy manager? He just KICKED my girlfriend to the curb. That fucking pussy doesn’t live in my world.

Confused Front Desk Agent: I apologize sir, she was knocked over outside by our staff? Is there anything I can do to assist?

At this point everyone in the lobby gets quiet and uncomfortable. Our manager is mild mannered and keeps a cool head. His hurting anything than himself by working excessively is out of character so we are all paused worried if we need to call 911, and what the hell the story is.

Male Patron: I book big business here! I’ve booked MANY events here. Get me your pussy ass manager. This is unacceptable and insane.

Cue my very befuddled manager at the commotion to come out. The guy immediately starts bee lining to him.

Manager: Sir, how can I assist you?

Male Patron: YOU DON’T LIVE IN MY WORLD, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU CAN’T KICK MY GIRLFRIEND TO THE CURB. I BOOK BUSINESS HERE! BIG BUSINESS! YOU AND YOUR MINIONS DON’T GET IT. YOU DON’T LIVE IN MY WORLD BUDDY, I CAN TELL YOU THAT RIGHT NOW. WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO KICK MY GIRLFRIEND TO THE CURB?

Manager: I apologize about the confusion sir but smoking is not permitted within 20 ft of any door per Washington state law.

Male Patron: YOU RAN TO YOUR BACK OFFICE TO HIDE FROM ME YOU PUSSY. YOU AND YOUR SMUG MINIONS THINK THIS IS FUNNY? YOU THINK IT’S AMUSING?

The guy starts getting almost nose to nose with my manager. He has balled his fists and it’s getting tense. Suddenly the girlfriend comes into the lobby after finishing her smoke and sees her guy making a scene.

Girlfriend: It’s okay! It’s okay! Babe, it’s okay. I’m so sorry. We are so sorry.

She continues talking him down and convincing him to leave while he is puffing his chest, he starts backing off. It doesn’t pay to entertain crazy so everyone is backing off while he starts walking off with a few expletives thrown over his shoulder. My manager refers to us as his minions now.

I’ve been reading this website for close to 4 years now and I try my hardest to not be “that customer”. Unfortunately, today, I failed. I placed my order at (Fast food place popular for fried chicken). I ordered a large (box meal), left my name for the order, then waited politely and patiently. After a short wait a staff member called out an order for a small (box meal). I smiled, grabbed it and walked across the food court to sit down. As i sat down i heard my name being called. I opened my food, noticed it was a small and began the long walk of shame back. As I got back i smiled sheepishly, apologised for being “that customer” and walked forlornly back to my seat, where I now write this story. If you’re reading this, I am so sorry for not listening to you, staff member!!

(A bottle of cologne I bought as a Christmas gift had shattered and wasn’t discovered until Christmas morning. I am returning it a few days after Christmas.)

Cashier: “Hi, what can I help you with.”

Me: “I want to exchange this, if I can since it is broken. Do you know if you have any more of this cologne?”

Cashier: “If we do, it’ll be on the shelf, but I can ask for someone to check.”

Me: “There is none over there, but if there isn’t any more, I’d like to return it. Here is the receipt.”

(Some of the cologne leaked out of the box and onto the receipt, causing it to rip right where the bar code is. The cashier tries to scan it, but fails. She shrugs then processes the return.)

Me: “Why am I only getting $x back? I paid $xx for it.”

Cashier: “It was on sale when you bought it. Here’s the cash for it.”

(I leave the counter and stare at my original receipt and the one I was handed for the return. There’s about a $10 difference between what I paid and the cash I was handed. I head back to the counter to talk to the same cashier.)

Me: “On the original receipt I paid $x, even with the sale. I should be getting that amount back.”

Cashier: “Okay, I’ll call my manager.”

(The manager hears my claim and hears what the cashier did. She asks me for my receipts back.)

Manager: *to the cashier* “The receipt says you returned the product for cash, but you don’t have the receipt. You can’t do that. You can get fired because of it.”

Cashier: “Oh, I didn’t know.”

Manager: “But you have the receipt here, so you can enter the information into the system so it gives the correct return price. Watch what I do. We have to sell it to her again. *to me* Do you have the cash? (I hand it to her) *to cashier* Now she owns it. Then we type in the information from her original receipt and now we return it again. *to me* Here’s the correct change and your receipt. Have a good day.”

I pet-sit as a side job whenever I have time. My schedule is very flexible, so I can do whatever the client needs when it comes to pet care. Some like me to stay over at their house with their pets, some want me to keep the pet at my house, and some just want to me check in every now and again. This time, I’m working with the latter, and her specification is to check in 3 times a day.

This woman, a close family friend, has 3 cats and a dog. Normally, the only problematic one is one of the cats that loves to try and get outside every time someone opens the door. The other two cats are really well-behaved, and the dog is happy as long as she gets to go outside every day.

I’m heading over there for my morning shift one day, and I notice a dog running around in the road near the house. Thankfully, I live in a small town and it’s really early, so there isn’t a lot of traffic. As I’m looking at this dog, I’m thinking to myself, “That dog looks a lot like [Dog].” When I get a little closer and she comes running up to me all excited, I realize, “Holy crap, it’s [Dog]!”

Turns out the owner’s mother-in-law came home early and let her outside, but she didn’t close the gate properly and the dog got out. Luckily, it wasn’t too hard to get her to come back. Still a bit of an unpleasant shock, though!

(My daughter goes to daycare every day, and she is one of the friendliest, sweetest children they have there, as I’m constantly told. She is four years old but was born 14 weeks premature, therefore she doesn’t entirely understand or have the speech to bring her up to speed. As we are arriving from one direction, a mother is bringing her two sons in, and one of them notices my daughter.)
Son: I don’t want to go!
Mother: What’s wrong?
Son: It’s (Daughter’s name)!
Daughter: *happily giggling and waiting to walk in with her friends*
Mother: Yeah, looks like she’s waiting for you!
Son; She’s mean! She hits me!
Me:….
Mother: W-what? No I can’t see her doing that!
Son: She’s mean!
Me:….*takes my daughter inside and gets her ready*
(The woman’s son continues to make claims that my daughter has hit him and is mean, while the mother tries very hard to make him stop. I take her in to finish putting her slippers on, then let her play. As I’m coming back out to the entrance area, the mother looks at me.)
Mother: I’m so sorry!
Me: Uh…yeah. He must be having a hard morning, mind if I say something to him?
Mother: By all means.
Me: *kneels down to his level and uses a soft tone* Hun, I know you may be having a bad morning, but picking on other kids isn’t nice.
Son: She’s mean! She hits me!
Me: To be honest, (Daughter’s name) Is a very sweet child, give her a chance and I promise you’ll have a friend for life.
(I get home, and 20 minutes prior to picking her up, I get a call from the daycare.)
Teacher: Hi, is this (my name?) I’m calling about the incident dropping off this morning.
Me: Dropping…oh! The little boy.
Teacher: I promise that your daughter is nothing like that! She’s one of our sweetest children here and has never hit another student!
Me: I understand, he must be having a hard day. I know I looked at his eyes today and he had bags under them, must not been sleeping well lately.
Teacher: Yeah, I jut wanted to touch base with you because we didn’t want you to get the wrong idea of her attitude here.
Me: I completely understand, (Daughter’s name) is hyper yes, but she is a very friendly child, plus I believe you guys would call me if she ever did hit another child.
Teacher: Absolutely! The mother wanted us to let you know that she’s very sorry. She wanted to tell you herself but we can’t give out details like that.
Me: I understand, let her know please that there’s no hard feelings?
Teacher: We will!
(I seriously hope the little boy was just having a bad morning, because I will be damned if I let a child, no matter what age, bully my daughter or anyone else when I see it. When I arrived to pick her up, both children were happily playing kitchen in the corner.)