(A customer walks up to the customer service desk of the grocery store that I work at while I’m the only person at the desk.)
Customer: *slamming his bagged deli meat and cheese on the counter* “These rang up wrong! There is a sign for a sale and they rang up regular price!”
Me: “Alright, sir. May I see your receipt?”
(He hands me the receipt and I check the price that it rang up compared to the price marked on the package. One of them was on sale, but both rang up for the price marked.)
Me: “Well, sir, they both seem to have rang up for the price marked. Where did you see the sign for the sale?”
Customer: *pointing towards our Automated Deli Kiosk* “On that machine over there! I’ll show you!”
(I follow after him, making sure to bring the items and the receipt with me. He brings up the meat that he bought onto the kiosk.)
Customer: “See! $3.99 a pound! How much did that ring up for?”
Me: *Looking at the package* “… $3.99 a pound.”
(The pauses for a long moment.)
Customer: “You know what we’re gonna do? Give me that and my receipt. *Takes the deli meat, cheese and his receipt from my hand.* I’ve had it with Kroger!” *storms out of the store*
Me: “I’m sorry your stuff rang up right.”

(At the Military Memorial Park of Pákozd, where I worked, several old and modern military objects are displayed in the open. Amongst these are nonfunctional artillery, fargos and others; most of them can be freely accessed and “used” (kids love to climb and steer them). However, there is a tank from ’56, which is real, and since its injuries were real, too, it is dangerous to touch and climb. The edges are sharp, and the shell itself is bumpy. There are several forbidding signs with pictures and text “Do not climb” etc, around the tank, a barricade, and even a low chain fence. Despite these, several visitors climb the tank. Below is a small compilation of my experiences.)

Me: Please, do not climb on the tank. It is dangerous!
84 years old man: Young lady, I know it is dangerous, I used to drive these!
*slips, cuts hand* …sorry, do you have a bandage?

Me: Please, sir, get down from the tank. It is forbidden to climb.
Patron: I didn’t know! Girlie, you can’t tell me what to do!
Me: There are five warning signs. We were watching you looking at them. And yes, I can.
Patron: Well, I cannot read!
Me: They also have pictures. Down. Now. *setting my arms a-kimbo. While I’m petite, recently I trained a lot throwing grenades etc. for the park’s activities, and my army green shirt showed off my muscles. *
Patron *suddenly scared, realizing where exactly he is* Sorry, ma’am!
*scurries down*

Me: Please, kids, come down. It is a real tank, it is dangerous to climb. You see how sharp it’s this?
Older kid, about five: Ohh, I see! Sorry, miss! *helps his little brother descend safely*
Father *suddenly shows up*: How dare you shout at my kids? They are upset! They will cry!
Younger kid: Daddy, she didn’t shout…
Father *screaming*: Entitled little bitch, I’ll show you…
Other patron, who previously had a chat with me, laughing: Cool off, man, she was kind…
Me: Please, stop disturbing others, sir, or we will have to escort you out of the premises.
Father: You? That’s rich!
Other patron to me: Please, lieutenant, can I watch you kick his ass? Pretty pretty please!
Father *suddenly terrified, flees*
Kids: Sorry, miss!
Me to other patron: Thank you, but I thought I’ve already confirmed I’m not actually in military?…
Other patron: Yes, but I wanted to see his face, and you definitely look like you are! So… can you tell me more about the trenches?…

Me: Please, sir, do not climb on the barricade, nor the tank. It is dangerous. You are welcome to try the other artilleries, and we have a MIG-29 simulator inside…
Man in flip-flops: Shut up, bitch! I do what I want! *slips, sprints his ankle, starts screaming in pain*
Me: …would you like me to call you an ambulance, sir?
Man *sheepisly* No, sorry… can you call my wife here?… *points to a woman nearby*
I had the satisfaction on watching her chewing him out for his stupidity, and she even gave me a candy bar!

Me: Please, ma’am, climb off the tank. It is dangerous, and forbidden strictly.
Patron: Yeah, I saw the signs. I do what the fuck I want. Go away, little slut!
Me *smiling, pointing to another, new sign* And you don’t care about the wasps inside…?
Patron *screeches, takes off as fast as she can*

Me: Sir, please, do not lift your kids on the tank. It is dangerous.
Patron *doesn’t listen, continues to set his one-year-old baby right next to a big, sharp gash*
His kids have been actually listening, and started to carefully slip down. I helped one of them.
Me to the patron:  Please, sir, take your child off the tank. It is dangerous.
Patron *suddenly screaming* How dare you touch my children! I’ll call the police! I…
*my hunk coworker appears, with a stern face; the patron pales* … I’ll leave…
*takes his children, leaves*

Spotting someone climbing the tank was an everyday occurrence, but most of our patrons were sensible enough for not screaming at us for making them get off. Regrettably, we always had that one idiot (usually an adult) who decided they should ignore all warnings. One time someone decided to climb the tank while there was a protocol event. The actual soldiers took care of him fast!

The main building in the Military Memorial Park has several modern exhibits, amongst them one about aviation. I’m on duty in that station in this day, manning the MIG-29 simulator. The day is slow, and I’m starting to get bored, when a sweet old couple walks in. The husband looks at the simulator, which consist of a real cockpit with the booby-hatch from a MIG-27 plane, and a control panel in front of a big screen and cheers up.
Old gentleman: Honey, look at this! This seems like just the real deal! And I suppose you young miss are the pilot? You will take us on a journey?
Me, smiling: Almost, sir. I will assist you, but you will be the one piloting! I’m just a navigator for you. Would you like to take a seat? Or you, ma’am?
Old lady: Can we both try it? Is it even possible for old farts like us to do this?
Me: But of course! Fun has no age limits!
Old gentleman: And what happens if we fail? Will we crash and die?
Me: No, sir, I’d never let it! You see, I can operate the catapult here, so if I see that you are in danger, we just leave the plane… Would you like to try it?
Old lady: I think I will die from happiness! This is fantastic! Let me try!

They both tried it, screaming in childish glee, admiring the game’s realistic view and generally behaving like a kid in the candy shop. They both failed the mission first, but as it was a slow day, I confirmed with the receptionist, and let them play with the simulator as long as they wanted, helping them using the controls. After a while, both of them managed to safely land (not an easy feat for anyone)! They were really nice and genuinely happy, really cheering me up. Even just dealing with them already made my day, but later they came back with sweets and a small pendant for me. They insisted I have them, and the old lady even gave me a hug!

(During my lunch where I work at a saddlery, [uniform is jeans, cowboy boots and a blue polo] I decide to head to the grocery store [uniform is black dress pants and green button-up shirt])
Woman#1: Hi where can i find [item]?
Me: *ignores women thinking she is talking to a nearby employee*
Woman#1: Excuse me young lady?
Me: *raises eyebrow* I’m sorry I actually have no idea where that is.
Woman#1: Well can you find someone that knows then?
Me: Ermmm, sure? *finds an employee*
(about 5 minutes later I am approached by a separate customer)
Woman#2: Hi where is the [item]?
Me:… I’m sorry I don’t actually know.
Woman#2:…Oh.. Well can you point me in the right direction?
Me: Well uhm there are big signs telling you the products are, I’m sure they can tell you. *I’m quite confused at this point*
Woman#2: Do you even work here?
Me: *smiling politely* My uniform isn’t even close to the employees of this store.
Woman#2: Oh… right…

(This took place a few years ago when I worked at a grocery store. I’m a bisexual female who was wearing a rainbow wristband. I was checking out a customer I had sometimes seen around the store. The customer had been friendly enough to me up until this point.)
Customer: (points at my wristband) You’re one of those queer f******!
(Occasionally I deal with things like this, so I try to keep my cool.)
Me: I prefer the term bisexual, ma’am.
Customer: The Lord says you’ll burn in Hell! He condemns those who sleep with the same gender!
(I sigh and endure this abuse for a bit longer because she had unfortunately purchase A LOT of items. Soon I decide to ask her to stop after a particularly abusive comment.)
Me: Look, ma’am, you can have the views you want on homosexuality, but please realize that abusing a cashier is not an appropriate response, especially in front of children.
Customer (shouting): I will not do anything you tell me! God hates queers, and therefore so do I!
(At this point, a girl who couldn’t have been older than fourteen walks up to the woman who was ranting at me.)
Girl: Hi.
Customer (coldly): Hello.
(The customer then continues yelling at me.)
Girl: You’re not being very nice to the cashier. She never did anything to you. All she was doing was checking out your items.
(At this point, I see the girl’s mom looking surprised and slightly pale.)
Customer: So? God hates people like her.
Girl: That’s not true. I’ve seen you at church, ma’am, and I recall the pastors teaching us that God loves everyone. And He makes everyone, right? Doesn’t that mean that he made her different?
(The customer seems about ready to give up, but has something else to say.)
Customer: It literally says in the Bible that he condemns homosexuality, so why don’t you go back to being a good Christian girl and love the Lord like everyone else?
Girl (visibly getting tired of this): You know, I seem to recall that the Bible said it’s okay to own slaves and that women were the property of men. Please step out of your homophobic bubble and take a look at modern American society.
(The customer goes magenta in the face and leaves, sputtering, with her groceries.)
Me (to the girl’s mother): You have raised an extraordinary daughter.
Mother: Don’t I know it!
(I never see the homophobic customer again, but I see the girl and her mother several times at the store while I worked there and gave them half off their purchase each time.)