Putting The LOL In Little Old Lady
AT THE CHECKOUT, BAD BEHAVIOR, GOLDEN YEARS, RETAIL | RIGHT | AUGUST 5, 2009
(I’m checking out my last customer, a little old lady, before covering a break when another customer starts unloading his stuff into the register. Note that I’ve shut off my light and put a “lane closed” sign up.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, my lane is closed. I have to go to another department and cover a break.”

Other Customer: “Well, isn’t that just f***ing convenient for you!”

(Right on cue, the little old lady I was helping turns to the other customer.)

Little Old Lady: “Who the h*** peed in your cornflakes this morning?!”

Other Customer: *storms off*

(I hugged the lady and she is now a regular of mine.)

This Boss Gets More Than Just The Check
AWESOME, LGBTQ, LOUISIANA, NEW ORLEANS, RESTAURANT, USA | RIGHT | JANUARY 10, 2013
(A young gay couple has become my favorite regulars at the small restaurant where I work. One day as I am talking with them, an older, more conservative-looking man walks past us to the To-Go pickup area. He stops short next to us, and in the same moment, I see one of the young guys look down with a panicked expression at where he is holding his boyfriend’s hand.)

Older Man: “[Name]! I didn’t know you ate here!”

Young Man: *uncomfortable* “Oh, yeah, um… it’s half way between work and my… boyfriend’s work, so.”

Older Man: *glances at James’ boyfriend* “Oh.”

(There is an awkward pause, where we all just stare at each other.)

Older Man: “I’m sorry, I’m being rude.” *offers his hand to James’ boyfriend* “I’m [Older Man], [Young Man]’s boss. Very nice to meet you. We all love James in the office.”

Young Man’s Boyfriend: “Oh! Nice to meet you, too! You know, [Young Man] is always talking about how much he looks up to you.”

(The young man is so visibly relieved that he is near tears. The three makes some more small talk before the older man heads off to pick up his lunch. I end up taking his payment and he quietly asks me to pay for James and his boyfriend’s meal as well.)

Older Man: “You know… when I was growing up, I was taught that being gay was bad, a sin. But that young man is the brightest kid I’ve ever known, and I can’t see a d*** thing wrong with him…” *pauses* “…or his boyfriend.”

(He smiled at me and then walked away without another word. To this day, I can’t think about the look on James’s face when I told him that his boss paid for his nearly $100 meal without wanting to cry.)

I’m Sorry… That You And Your Son Are Idiots
CRIMINAL & ILLEGAL, EDITORS' CHOICE, HOTEL, PARENTS/GUARDIANS, USA | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 17, 2008
(The night before, I called the police because of a hit and run in the parking lot of my hotel. The cops put some kid in handcuffs because of a tip I gave them. The next night, the kid’s mother found me.)

Mom: “Hey! You’re the girl, [My Name], that was working last night!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

Mom: “You know that the cops put handcuffs on my 16-year-old son?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I was here for that.”

Mom: “The police told me a girl named [My Name] told them my son wrecked that car last night. I want to know why you told them that.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, your son was down here talking about the car accident he was involved in last night.”

Mom: “But the cops put him in handcuffs!”

Me: “…”

Mom: “My son is only 16 years old, and they put him in handcuffs and didn’t even tell me!”

Me: “Well, what would you like me to do about that?”

Mom: “I want you to apologize.”

Me: “For what?”

Mom: “For calling to police and getting my son handcuffed!”

Me: “You want me to apologize for reporting a crime?”

Mom: “Yes!”

Me: “Well, I’m not sorry.”

Mom: “But the police put him in handcuffs!”

Me: “Sounds like you have a problem with the police.”

Mom: “Listen here, b****, I’m not leaving until you say you’re sorry!”

Me: “You might be a while, ma’am, because I’m not sorry!”

Fly The Friendliest Skies
AIRPORT | WORKING | MAY 8, 2013
(I suffer from panic attacks that can come on extremely suddenly and cause tetany, which means my muscles seize up. My sister and I are flying from Sydney to Queensland and, upon landing, I have an attack. It’s not until the rest of the passengers are off the plane do the stewardesses and steward notice me and my sister.)

Stewardess #1 : *to my sister* “Hey, is she all right?”

Sister: “She’s having a panic attack.”

Stewardess #2 : “Is she scared of flying?”

Sister: “No, she just gets attacks really suddenly. She’s not breathing well and she can’t move.”

Stewardess #2 : “I’ll go see if I can lower the oxygen masks.”

Stewardess #1 : “It’s ok, honey; I’ll go get the medical staff.”

(The steward sits next to me.)

Steward: “So, I’m Robbie. What’s your name?”

Me: *gasps*

Sister: “Her name is [My Name].”

Steward: “And here I thought her name was Gaspy. How are you holding up, Gaspy?”

(I laugh, which hurts. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and straightens me up from my fetal position, which also hurts.)

Steward: “I know curling up in a ball feels good right now, but it’s not helping your breathing get any better. Keep straight for me, Gaspy.”

Me: “It hurts.”

Steward: “I know, I know. Try and slow your breathing down, though. Come on, Gaspy. Let’s become [My Name] again.”

Stewardess #2 : “I can’t lower the oxygen masks for one person, apparently, but I’ve radioed the airport and they’re bringing in a tank for her.”

Me: “What?”

Sister: “Seriously, it’s just a panic attack. We both have them all the time. A glass of warm milk, and we’re fine.”

Steward: “Warm milk, eh? Lame! Here at [Airline], we do things in style! Oxygen tanks all the way! Plan to be spoiled, Gaspy.”

Me: “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Stewardess #2 : “Don’t be sorry! We’re having fun!”

(Stewardess #1 returns, followed by a medic with a wheelchair and oxygen tank.)

Steward: “Up we go then.”

(The steward gets to his feet and somehow manages to get me into his arms in the narrow gap between the seats. He carries me to the chair and sits me down.)

Me: “I’m really, really sorry.”

Medic: “Stop apologising; this is the best part.”

(He puts the oxygen mask on me and straps me to the chair.)

Me: “I don’t think I need that.”

Medic: “It helps. Trust me.”

Me: “Okay…”

Medic: “And out we go!”

(They wheel me off the plane and through the hall to the airport. We hear shouting from the terminal and it turns out I’d held up the next flight by 45 minutes.)

Steward: “Ready for the best part?”

(We turn the corner, and all the angry passengers take one glance at me and shut up, looking away guiltily. The medic and the steward and stewardesses all laugh.)

Medic: “See how the straps help?”

Steward: “See ya, Gaspy!”

Me: “Thank you, and sorry!”

(The medic continues to wheel me through the airport and starts to get irritated by the fact that no one is moving out of his way.)

Medic: “Seriously. You are strapped into a wheelchair, breathing into an oxygen tank! Move, people! Can I use you to ram into people?”

Me: “Ram away.”

(He proceeds to barge into people who don’t clear room for us, apologising with a grin after every hit. We finally get to the medical centre and they take my heart rate and blood pressure, which are so high, they keep me there to monitor them until they go back down. Finally, I am allowed to leave.)

Medic: “And here is a lollipop for being my bulldozer.”

(Best. Airport Staff. EVER.)

Judge A Sandwich On Its Filling
AWESOME, COFFEE SHOP, INSPIRATIONAL, NEW YORK, USA | RIGHT | MARCH 11, 2013
(A young girl that is about 14 years old walks in. She gets some looks from our other patrons, as she has bright purple hair, multiple piercings, a leather jacket, and ripped jeans. It is freezing outside and she has a scowl on her face that makes me nervous.)

Me: “Hello, welcome to [Coffee Shop]. How may I help you?”

Young Girl: “I’ll take five of the largest black coffees you have, and ten of your ham and cheese sandwiches.”

Me: “Okay, will that be all?”

Young Girl: “Yeah.”

Me: “Your total is [price].”

(To my surprise, she pulls out a $100 bill. I am suspicious, and I check to make sure it’s real. It checks out, and I give her a bag with her sandwiches.)

Me: “Here is your change. Your coffee will be ready in a moment.”

(I keep an eye on her as she stands around glaring at anyone who looks at her. I see her looking at the tip jar. When I hand her the coffees, she asks me about it.)

Young Girl: “Your tip jar says that the money goes to you guys. Are any of you in college?”

Me: “Yes, I’m going to Rochester Institute of Technology. A few others are in college as well.”

Young Girl: “Good for you.”

(She pulls out the change I gave her and a few more $20 dollar bills. She crams then in the jar and salutes me jokingly before walking out. I am stunned, and chase after her. I find her on the street corner talking to some homeless people and handing out the sandwiches and coffee.)

Me: “Excuse me!”

Young Girl: “I’m sorry, did I forget something?”

Me: “No, but you just tipped us over $100 dollars. You’re also giving away a lot of food.”

Young Girl: “Yeah, my dad is crazy rich. I feel like I can do more if I actually interact with people instead of signing a check to a charity. Every Friday I gather anyone I see who needs a good meal, and buy it for them.” *she smiles brightly* “I may be young, but I can make a difference. I usually hand out flyers for homeless shelters or soup kitchens, too.”

(Without another word, she walked off silently. I didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the week. It goes to show you that appearances aren’t everything!)

More Than He Bargained For
EDITORS' CHOICE, MARKET, MONEY, RETAIL, STUPID | RIGHT | APRIL 27, 2009
(My father is manning tables at the local flea market. A man comes up to the table and picks out an item that’s priced at $8.)

Customer: “Will you take $6 for this?”

Dad: “Sure.”

(The man finds another item, this one priced at $5.)

Customer: “Will you take $4?”

Dad: “Sure.”

(After a while, the man finds another item, this time priced at $6.)

Customer: “$5?”

Dad: “Sure.”

(Finally, the man gathers all of his items together and winds up for the ultimate bargaining ploy.)

Customer: “How about $20 for all three?”

Dad: “Sure.”

(Dad was always an agreeable sort.)

Not All Knights Are In Shining Armor
BAD BEHAVIOR, GROCERY STORE, JERK, MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, USA | RIGHT | OCTOBER 15, 2012
(Two of my children suffer from a rare, genetic bone disease and they both have recently had major surgery. My 10-year-old had his hip rebuilt and is using a wheelchair, while my 13-year-old had a tumor taken out of his ankle and is using a walker. The 10 year old also uses a walker to move from his chair to the car. I am parked in a handicapped space, and am trying to get them loaded into the car. There are 6 open handicapped spaces, but this elderly man decides he needs the space directly next to my driver’s side.)

Elderly Man: *honking horn* “Get out of the way!”

Me: “I need to get the kids loaded. I’ll be out of the way shortly.”

Elderly Man: *honking even louder, scaring my 10-year-old* “Get out of the way, lady! You don’t even need this spot.”

Me: “Sir, my two disabled children do need this spot, but there are several other open spots if you’re in a hurry.”

(By this time, I have my wheelchair-using child in the car. I set his walker aside to push the chair to the back of my car and retrieve my older child’s walker from the other side of the car. Unfortunately, I am not fast enough. The elderly man honks again, then bullies his way into the spot and DRIVES OVER the walker. I am nearly in tears, and have just put my head down trying to get the wheelchair folded up and put in the trunk of my car. The elderly man gets out of his car while I have the chair half way from the ground to the trunk.)

Elderly Man: “You’re very rude! You should be ashamed of yourself! You shouldn’t even be using this spot. It’s obvious you don’t need it!”

Me: *literally slack-jawed* “I’m sorry you feel that way…”

(As the elderly man leaves, two young men who look like thugs approach me.)

Young Men: “We’ve seen everything and feel really bad for you. Can we help you get the wheelchair and walkers into your car?”

Me: *crying and trembling* “Yes…”

(Not only do the young men get the medical equipment in my car, but they get my 10-year-old laughing again with their non-stop jokes. After they finish helping me…)

Me: “Thank you! Can I do anything to repay your kindness?”

Young Men: *wave me off* “We’re just doing what decent people would do. Have a pleasant day!”

(I found out later that they’d noted the elderly man’s tag number and had gone inside to report the incident to the manager. The police were called and the elderly man was held responsible for the damage to the walker.)

In Line And Out Of Line
GROCERY STORE, INSTANT KARMA, JERK, SOUTH AFRICA | RIGHT | AUGUST 5, 2013
(I’m in line to pay. [Customer #1 ] in front of me is about in his 40s, and very well-dressed in a suit and tie. [Customer #2 ] in front of him seems to be a single mother with her child. I’m 25, and pretty shabbily dressed; wearing only faded jeans, an old, novelty Star Wars shirt, and have my long hair almost covering my eyes.)

Customer #1 : “Lady, can you hurry up! Some people are important and actually have places to be!”

([Customer #2 ] is fumbling with her money. In her cart she only has basic groceries and what appears to be a birthday cake for her child. She mumbles something about not having enough money, and decides to leave the cake behind.)

Customer #1 : “Don’t waste everyone’s time if you can’t even pay for your s***! Or maybe you need another government handout that comes from my taxes?!”

(At this point, I feel like I’ve got to step in.)

Me: “Hey, man, that’s enough!”

Customer #1 : “Who do you think you are? I’ll have you know I’m the [High Profile Position] at [Large Shipping Company], and no one ever talks to me like that.”

(Suddenly, I become much more respectful.)

Me: “I’m so sorry, sir. I had no idea you were so important. Would you mind if I asked you for your business card?”

(Customer #1 smugly hands me his card. I see he is, indeed, who he says he is.)

Me: “And here’s my business card.”

Customer #1 : “Why the h*** would I want your—”

(Customer #1 suddenly goes pale, as he notices that I am co-owner of [Large Shipping Company].)

Me: “Now that I know your name, I’ll be sure to phone your supervisor to ensure you’re put on probation. One more act like this and you’re fired.”

(Customer #1 stammered for a bit, before practically running from the store. I ended up paying for the mother’s cake, and even gave them a bit extra to buy the kid any toy from the store.)

She Has A Real Problem
GROCERY STORE | RIGHT | NOVEMBER 14, 2012
(I am at my regular grocery store at the checkout. The bagger is a sweet man with a mental disability, who is carefully bagging my items.)

Bagger: “You want this one?”

(He holds up one of my canvas bags, which I see has a hole in it.)

Me: “No, use another. Thanks.”

Woman behind me: “God! Hurry it up!”

Me: “I just finished paying. He’s fine.”

Woman behind me: “Oh, so you’re slow like him too? God all you special people need to stop interfering with normal people.”

Bagger: *looks offended* “Ma’am, she’s not not-smart. She goes to [University].” *points to my university logo on my sweatpants* “She’s real smart.”

Me: “And he’s the best bagger here! He’s very careful, ma’am, which is a good thing with groceries.”

(My bags are done. Since he knows I walk back to my dorm, the bagger just hands them to me and helps me shoulder them.)

Woman behind me: “God, he won’t even help you take them to your car? What a delinquent. I want to see a manager about this!”

Me: “I walk, lady. You want to call a manager over something I have intentionally asked him to do many times?”

Bagger: *to me* “Have a nice day!”

Woman behind me: “Retard.”

(The cashier, who hasn’t said a word through the whole thing, looks at the woman calmly.)

Cashier: “Refusal of service for massive discrimination towards a valued employee, as well as a regular customer. You may leave your items here; we’ll shelve them later. Please leave.”

(She instead decides to cause a massive disturbance, eventually breaking a shelf, and needing to be physically restrained while the bagger leads me and another customer behind the cigarette counter for our safety. We have to wait for a cop to come.)

Bagger: “Still… coming next week?” *he looks worried*

Me: “Yep.”

(His smile made me really happy for the rest of the day.)

Definitely Not In The Job Description
BIZARRE, DELIVERY, IMPOSSIBLE DEMANDS, MOVIES & TV, PIZZA | RIGHT | JUNE 16, 2009
Me: “Thanks for calling [Pizza Place]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Yes, I would like…” *places order as usual*

Me: “Okay, is there anything else I can do for you?”

Caller: “Yes! When the driver arrives, could you tell him these instructions?”

Me: “Okay. I’ll be your driver, by the way.”

Caller: “All right. First, I want you to knock on the window three times, then yell like a Wookie. Then knock two more times and make alien noises.”

Me: “Alien… noises?”

Caller: “You know the ‘click’ and stuff. Like in the movie… uhh, what movie is that again?”

Me: “You mean Signs?”

Caller: “Yeah! That’s the one. Okay, so after you do that, knock three more times and then yell, ‘PLANKTON!'”

Me: “Anything else?”

Caller: “Oh yeah, do you have any lingerie?”

Me: “Not on me…”

Caller: “Oh, well, you should drive home and then find some, and wear that to the door.”

Me: “Okay, is that all, ma’am?”

Caller: “Yeah, but don’t forget the lingerie!”

(I decide to go along with the caller’s request, put on some shorts, and roll the legs up so it’s similar to a Speedo. Half an hour later, I arrive at their door. The entire party comes outside to watch my show of knocks and clicks, and then poses with me to take pictures. I got a $15 tip, too!)

Man’s Best Friend, From Beginning To End
ADORABLE CHILDREN, KIND STRANGERS, NEW MEXICO, PETS & ANIMALS, USA, VET | RIGHT | APRIL 1, 2013
(A family has just had their old golden retriever euthanized, due to a mix of a bad heart and bone cancer. The whole family is pretty despondent, but the youngest, a little boy, is taking it the worst. While the family is waiting for the paperwork to get finished, one of our regulars — a young Air Force lieutenant — walks in. He quickly notices the group, and approaches the desk.)

Lieutenant: “Did they just have to put someone down?”

(I nod. The lieutenant sits down right next to the boy, who is near tears.)

Lieutenant: “You okay, little guy?”

(The boy nods.)

Lieutenant: “Did you lose someone you care about?”

Boy: “Uh huh…”

Lieutenant: “Do you miss him?”

Boy: “Uh huh…”

Lieutenant: “Did you make every day of his life worth living?”

Boy: “Huh?”

Lieutenant: “I lost my little brother to cancer a few years back, and it tore me up. Had I done everything I could? What if I had done this or that differently? I just didn’t know, and it ate me up inside. Then they read us his will. It said, ‘I thank you, all of you, for making what borrowed time on Earth I had worth it, down to the second. That is all I could have asked for; know that should this cancer take me before I pen this will again, I loved each of you like no other family can, and going out with a smile worth smiling is the best way to go.'”

(The whole family is listening at this point, and the boy is completely enraptured. The lieutenant, lost in his recounting for a moment, looks back at the child.)

Lieutenant: “So, if you did your best — your VERY BEST — to make every day of his life worth living, I’m sure from wherever he is now, he’s looking back on your time together and smiling.”

(The boy runs out of his chair, up to the lieutenant, and gives him a hug. He lets loose all the tears he was fighting back. The father tries to remove the child from his iron-gripped hug, but the lieutenant stops him.)

Lieutenant: *to the father* “It really is no trouble at all…”

(As for the boy, he eventually he cried himself to sleep in the lieutenant’s lap.)

No One Ever Said It Would Be Boring…
BIZARRE, GROCERY STORE, HEALTH & BODY | RIGHT | APRIL 20, 2009
(This happened on my first day of the job.)

Me: “Welcome to [Grocery Store].”

Customer: “Take off your glasses.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Customer: “They’re all pink and red; I can’t see your eyes!”

Me: “That’s because they’re tinted that way for a reason. Red increases contrast, and I’m photophobic.”

Customer: “What? You’re afraid of light? D*** VAMPI–”

Me: “–NO, no, no. It just means bright light hurts my eyes.”

Customer: “All right, ring these up.”

(Looking down, I notice he has bagged peaches. A LOT of them. As it’s my first day, I have to search for the code for them, and they lack a barcode.)

Customer: “Well? They’re peaches.”

Me: “I know, let me just–”

Customer: “Peaches! Come on, they’re peaches. Just ring them up.”

Me: “Sorry, just a moment.” *grabbing phone* “What’s the code for–”

Customer: “THESE. ARE. PEACCHEESSSS!”

(He grabs one of the bags of peaches, swings it around until it TEARS open and peaches go flying everywhere, and then he runs out of the store.)

Coworker: *on the phone* “Aha, so you met the peaches guy on your first day? I remember my first time meeting him…”

Me: “…”

Santa Will Know Who’s Nicer Than Nice
RETAIL | RIGHT | DECEMBER 24, 2013
(I work in a party store. I am serving an eight-year-old customer.)

Eight-Year-Old: “Can I see your Christmas decorations? I need to get special Christmas decorations.”

Me: “Sure you can. Is there something special you want to get, little guy?”

Eight-Year-Old: “I want to get a pretty tree with ornaments, and stockings, and presents, and Christmas lights! It’s for my neighbor.”

Me: “That’s a lot to get for your neighbor, sweetheart. Why do you need all of that?”

Eight-Year-Old: “Their daddy died. They don’t have Christmas this year, so I wanted to give it to them. I even got $100 from my mom to do it.”

Me: *on the verge of tears* “That’s very generous of you. Tell you what, let’s pick out some stockings and a tree. Then I’ll talk to my manager to see what we can do about some toys. How many kids does your neighbor have?”

Eight-Year-Old: “Three. [Name] is my best friend. I’m going to give him my presents for Christmas. I asked Santa to bring him an XBox, too, but Santa might be busy. So I’m going to give him my XBox.”

Me: “I’m sure, in this case, Santa will be listening very hard.”

(I help him pick out some special decorations and a tree. I ask my manager what we can do. Apparently, the boy’s mother has told my manager about the neighbor’s husband having passed away a few weeks ago in a bad accident, leaving the wife to support their family. We do a special discount of 50% off everything. We even donate some bulk bags of toys and stockings. By this time, we’re trying not to cry. On their way out, the mother thanks us.)

Mother: “He doesn’t know it, but both he and his best friend are getting an XBox for Christmas. He’s only eight and he wanted to give them everything. He even demanded we have them over for Christmas day. He is adamant they’re going to have a Christmas, no matter what.”

Checkouts Are Places For Change
RETAIL | RIGHT | AUGUST 9, 2013
(I am standing in line around midnight. In front of me is a pregnant girl, around 20 years old. She is wearing pajamas, and clearly looking as if she has seen better days. She also has a black eye, which is a little alarming to me.)

Cashier: “Did you find everything alright?”

Pregnant Customer: “Yes, thanks. Can you see if my card has anything on it before you ring it up?”

Cashier: “No, sorry. I could ring things up one at a time and see if it’ll take for each one. If you don’t mind waiting for me to cash out the other three people in line, I’ll be more than happy to do that for you.”

Pregnant Customer: “No, no, let’s just try. I hope the deposit has hit already.”

(The cashier rings everything in, and the pregnant customer swipes the card. It declines.)

Cashier: “Do you have another form of payment?”

Pregnant Customer: “No…” *starts crying* “He must have already cancelled the card.”

Cashier: “Cancelled the card?”

Pregnant Customer: “My ex-boyfriend kicked me out tonight. He came home and said the baby couldn’t be his, hit me, and threw me out. He must have called and cancelled our food stamp card. I don’t even know where I’m going to put all this. A friend is letting me use her extra fridge until I can get an apartment.”

(One of the customers in line behind me speaks up.)

Customer Behind Me: “Ma’am, just put it on my ticket.”

(I move out of the way so the customer behind me can push his cart forward. He clearly has $200 or more worth of food on his own, and the pregnant customer has about $150.)

Cashier: “Sure.”

Pregnant Customer: “No, no I can’t.”

Customer Behind Me: “Honey, don’t lecture me. My mom was kicked out by my dad because he thought she was sleeping around on him. She worked two jobs to keep a roof over my head. I’m not letting some deadbeat a**-hole throw his girlfriend out because he has trust issues.”

Pregnant Customer: “I can’t. It’s too much. I don’t have a job; I can’t pay you back.”

Customer Behind Me: “Take my card. I’ve seen you in here a few times during regular shopping hours. You’re always very nice to the employees and everyone in line. I need a receptionist for my apartment complex on [street]. Come by tomorrow, and we’ll have an interview. I give discounts to my employees on their rent.”

(By this time, the cashier has finished ringing in the items, and they’re bagged already.)

Cashier: “Your total is $459.92.”

(The customer behind me gently pushes past the pregnant customer. He swipes his card, enters his pin, and then hugs her.)

Customer Behind Me: “Things do get better. See me tomorrow; I’m serious.”

(Sir, wherever you are… You restored some of my faith in humanity. Thank you. Ma’am, wherever you are, I hope you and your baby have a great life, and you find someone to take care of you both and love you the way you deserve. I hope you got that job, but judging from how the man was talking, I’m sure you did!)

Kids, This Is What We Call “Scapegoating”
CHILDREN, EDITORS' CHOICE, PARENTS/GUARDIANS, RETAIL | RIGHT | AUGUST 5, 2008
Kid: “Mommy, I want this candy!”

Mom: “No, you can’t have the candy. Put it back.”

Kid: “I WANT THIS CANDY!”

Mom: “You can’t have it!”

Kid: “I WANT THIS CANDY!”

(At this point, the mom takes the candy from the kid and hands it to me.)

Mom: *points at me* “The bad man took the candy! You can’t have it because the bad man took it!”

Kid: *in tears* “Why did you take the candy?!”

Me: *speechless*

Un-Four-tunate Inch-uendo
ELECTRONICS STORE, ONE-LINER, RUDE & RISQUE, SPOUSES & PARTNERS, TECHNOLOGY | RIGHT | DECEMBER 31, 2009
(I am selling a TV to a middle-aged man and his wife.)

Me: “So, it’s between the 32 and the 36 inch TV, right?”

Husband: “Yes, but I don’t understand the difference between them.”

Me: “Well, they have the same specs all the way down the line. One is just bigger.”

Husband: “Who in the h*** would pay almost $350 more for four more inches?”

Wife: “I would!”

Trial By Hire
BIZARRE, EDITORS' CHOICE, RETAIL | RIGHT | OCTOBER 14, 2009
(I’ve just been hired as a cashier and it’s my first day. Halfway through my shift, I get called to go to the manager’s office. In the office is another man.)

Manager: “Ah, there you are. Thanks for coming over so quickly.”

Me: “No problem, what’s up?”

Manager: “This here is Henry. I’d like you to help him find the items on his grocery list and help him with whatever he may need.”

Henry: “Hello.”

Me: “Hey. Well, shall we get started?”

(Henry holds up a fake mustache and begins speaking in a British accent.)

Henry: “This the best you could hire?! This place is becoming worse every week!”

Manager: *to me* “Can I talk to you outside for a second?”

Me: “Sure…”

(We go outside and my manager explains to me that when Henry holds up his mustache, he is British and his name is Hensley.)

Manager: “Just take him around and help him get his stuff.”

Me: “Will do…”

(We start off finding him tea.)

Me: “All right, our tea is right over here.”

Henry: “Let’s see… green tea… green tea… ah. Here it is!”

(The mustache goes up as he reaches for the tea.)

Hensley: “I don’t want green tea.”

(The mustache goes down.)

Henry: “Must you be so picky?!”

(The mustache goes up.)

Hensley: “It isn’t my fault you have such terrible taste!”

(The mustache goes down.)

Henry: “Fine, what kind of tea do you want?!”

(The mustache goes up.)

Hensley: “I’m not sure.”

(This goes on for a grueling, long, painful 37 items. After two hours of this and a full cart, we head for the check out.)

Henry: “Thank you so much for being so patient with us.”

Me: “Glad I could help you two out!”

(The mustache goes up.)

Hensley: “Yes, thank you ever so much for the assistance. Don’t let us hold you up, dearie. Off you go… shoo, shoo!”

Me: “All right. Take care.”

(I head to the manager’s office, where several coworkers are also waiting.)

Me: “What the h*** was that for? Some sort of hazing?”

Manager: “Nope, he comes in every four days and buys the exact same stuff. Good way to test new employees!”

(So far they’ve tried this on five other new people while I’ve worked here. They all lost their temper and were fired. Henry/Hensley asks for me every few visits and he is a regular customer of mine now. Well, a not-so-regular customer…)

Getting Owned By The Owner, Part 2
BOSSES & OWNERS, COFFEE SHOP, EDITORS' CHOICE, ENGLAND, UK | RIGHT | JANUARY 31, 2013
(I’m standing in a fairly short queue when a businessman walks in, pushes straight to the front, and starts dictating his order to the 20-something-year-old cashier.)

Cashier: “I’m afraid you’re going to have to go to the back of the queue, sir.”

Business man: “I have an important meeting shortly. You must serve me now!”

Cashier: “Yeah, the longer you stand there, the later you’re going to be. Back of the queue.”

Business man: “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Cashier: “Nope. Now shut up and go to the back of the queue.”

Business man: “How dare you talk to me like that?! Get me your manager now!”

(The cashier sighs heavily, walks into the back, comes out with an older woman in tow and nods her towards the businessman, then disappears back into the back.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

Business man: “That boy was incredibly rude to me! I demand you fire him immediately!”

Manager: “I’m afraid I don’t have the authority to do that, but if you want I can get the owner for you.”

Business man: “Bah! Fine, but I expect to be compensated for having to go through all of this trouble!”

Manager: “I’m sure you can discuss that with him, sir.”

(She then walks into the back, then comes out again with the now grinning cashier.)

Cashier: “Yo.”

Business man: “What’s the meaning of this? I said I wanted to talk to the owner!”

Cashier: “Like I said, yo.”

(The businessman silently gapes for a few seconds, then walks out, stammering threats about having his head and closing the shop down.)

Manager: “Why do you always have to involve me?”

Cashier: “I just love the look on their stupid little faces when they find out I own this joint.”

(The manager rolls her eyes and walks into back.)

Cashier: “I love this job. What can I get you?”

Just Another Day In Stonerville
POLICE, PRANKS, RESTAURANT, SARCASM | RIGHT | MARCH 20, 2008
I work at a gourmet sandwich company. We can make sandwiches for delivery, pickup, or sit-down. We often get calls from a lot of stoners that want their sandwiches delivered. Probably for “munchies.” It’s about 4 pm on Saturday when I get this call.

Me: “Welcome to [sandwich shop], this is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Stoner #1 : “Hey… yeah…”

Me: “How can I help you today, sir?”

Stoner #1 : “What?”

Me: “Would you like to order something?”

Stoner #1 : “Yes…”

(After about two minutes of silence…)

Me: “Hello? Are you still there, sir?”

Stoner #1 : “Yeah, I’m waiting for you to like, ask me what I want.”

Me: “…Okay, what would you like?”

Stoner #1 : *tells me his order*

Me: “Would you like anything else with that?”

Stoner #1 : “Yeah… get me a cookie.”

(At this point, I hear a plethora of other stoners in the background.)

Stoner #2 : “Cookies!? Where?”

Stoner #1 : *laughing* “Dude, I’m on the phone with the cookie company!”

(Now I can hear [Stoner #2 ] grab the phone and he begins talking to me.)

Stoner #2 : “Hey, cookie company? Make that two cookies!”

Stoner #3 : “Four cookies! I want two!”

Stoner #2 : “SIX COOKIES!”

Me *trying not to laugh* “Okay, sir, will that be all?”

Stoner #2 : “Yeahhhhhh.”

Me: “Will that be for pickup or delivery?”

Stoner #2 : “Delivery…” *gives address*

Stoner #1 : “DUDE, WHAT IF SHE’S A NARC?”

Stoner #2 : “S***! You know that address I just gave you? I lied about it!”

(Now I decide to have a little fun with them, considering they wasted my time.)

Me: “Okay, but as a little treat, I’m going to have it delivered anyway. My car will be the one with red and blue flashing lights that reads P-O-L-I-C-E on the side.”

Stoner #2 : “A car with lights? That’s awesome!”

Stoner #1 : “Dude, she means the police!”

Stoner #2 : “S***!” *click*

(We ended up delivering to them anyway because TECHNICALLY they never canceled their order. Our delivery guy came back with the full order, telling us that someone answered the door to tell him no one was home.)

R-E-S-P-E-C-T
RETAIL | RIGHT | JULY 26, 2012
(I am the only female working in the parts department in our store. Note: at my previous job, I was involved in a violent fight against a male coworker who tried to assault me. They guy ended up at the hospital and no charges were pressed against me since I acted in self-defense. This story is well known by my current coworkers and my boss and I’m teased mercilessly about being a “man-beater.” This particular day, I’m training a new guy to work on the floor and I’m also acting as the shift supervisor since the department manager is off.)

Customer: *to my coworker* “I need to find this.” *shows a trailer connector*

Coworker: “It’s my first week here and I’m not sure if we carry this. However, let me ask my coworker here; she’ll tell me if we have some.”

Customer: “Her? How can she know something about trailers? She’s a girl. Girls don’t know s*** about trailers!”

Coworker: “Let me assure you, sir, she is the most knowledgeable employee we have here.”

Customer: “Well, if she think she can do a man’s job, let’s ask her.”

(I take a look at his connector.)

Me: “I’m sorry sir, but we do not carry this kind of connector. I could order some, but it will take over two weeks before they come in. May I suggest you go over [trailer store] or [another trailer store]? Both are down the road. They are more specialized than us, and they’ll probably have one in stock.”

Customer: *to my coworker* “I told you she’ll be useless.”

Coworker: “Sir, I don’t know what she can tell you more. We don’t keep that kind of stuff in stock, and she suggested two other other store where they sell those kind of products. I think you’ve gotten all the help you need.”

Customer: *suddenly starts screaming* “Why do you refuse to serve me?! I AM A MAN! I AM A CUSTOMER! I deserve RESPECT and OBEDIENCE! Now you will tell me where the f*** you keep those f***ing connectors!”

Me: “Sir, I already told you; we do not carry them. Those other stores will happily sell one to you, but I can’t because I don’t have any on hand.”

Customer: “You useless b****! Find me a manager with something between his legs so we can discuss man things between men!”

Me: “I am the shift supervisor today, so you’ll have to deal with me. I’ll need you to remain polite or you’ll have to leave.”

Customer: “Well, I will just stay behind you and get on your nerves! You’ll crack and resign from your job and find yourself a man that will teach you what is it to be a good woman! You’ll find a guy who will beat you into a submissive b****, like any good woman should be!”

(I send my coworker, who is on the verge of tears, to call the store manager so we can remove the customer from the store.)

Me: “Okay, sir, the store manager is on his way. I need to ask you to leave the property.”

(At this point my coworker returns, saying the store manager has called the police and is coming as fast as he can. Meanwhile, the customer starts acting very aggressively toward me; he tries to push me and effectively prevents me from going anywhere. He then turns his attention on my coworker, who doesn’t want to leave me alone with this freak. I’m really fearing for our safety, so I drop down and catch the longest, heaviest draw bar I can find. I smile at my coworker and put on the best “death stare” I can do towards the customer.)

Customer: *suddenly scared* “…What are you doing? Stop that! You’re scaring me, b****!”

Me: *grinning but saying nothing*

Customer: “What are you doing with the bar? Put it down! I am a man… I am the customer… I demand obedience and respect!” *to my coworker* “What the f*** is she doing?! Tell her to stop looking at me like that. She gives me the creeps!”

Coworker: “I don’t know sir, but around here, she’s known as a ‘man-beater.’ That’s because she sent a man to the hospital… a man that was trying to assault her at her previous job.”

Customer: “How could they let a crazy woman like this work in a store and deal with customers?!”

Coworker: “Well, she’s pretty handy for customers like you.”

Customer: *very frightened* “Um, I’ll just go now, okay? I’ll go to those other stores and see if they have any in stock.”

(As the customer turns around and starts walking out, he walks directly into the store manager, who is a very tall and broad-shouldered guy.)

Customer: *to store manager* “Your employees are crazy! Women shouldn’t beat men! It’s the other way around! You should break her and make her obedient and submissive, like any good woman!”

Store Manager: “Get out of my store now, or I’ll lock you in my office with her!”

(The customer starts heading towards the exit, but runs straight into two police officers who have just arrived.)

Customer: *to the police officers* “You gotta protect me! She’s crazy! She’s a man-beater!”

Police Officer #1 : *sarcastically* “Get into our car. You’ll be safe there.”

(The customer was arrested then and there, which was a good thing: it turned out he was wanted for multiple cases of domestic violence. After his arrest, several ex-girlfriends came out and testified against him, putting him away for good.)

A (Po)Lite Snack
MOVIE THEATER | RIGHT | NOVEMBER 5, 2012
(The theater I work at is cheap; the tickets are roughly half-price of the regular theaters. We get a lot of families, children and seniors, but have recently had a rash of extremely rude children. I’m working concession when a young boy—about 7 years old—comes up with his Mother. He takes a long time reviewing the menu and prices, so I ask him if I can help.)

Boy: “I need to buy snacks, please. I have $9.”

Me: “$9 is a great amount! Let’s see what we can get for you.”

Boy: “Hmmm. May I have a water, please?”

Me: “Of course, but if you’d like, I could sell you a cup instead. The water is $2.50; the cup is $0.25 and you can refill it as much as you’d like.”

(He agrees to get the ice cup, and starts counting his money on the counter.)

Boy: “Ma’am? Thank you for your suggestion about the cup!”

(Stunned that this small child is so polite and well-spoken, I turn around to see if his mom is coaching him. She’s not.)

Me: “You’re very welcome, young man! What else may I get for you?”

(The boy thinks a little at this point, looking at the candy case.)

Boy: “Every month I take my mom on a date. I already took her to dinner, then we got ice cream, and now I’m taking her to a movie! I need to make sure I treat her right!”

Me: “That’s so thoughtful! You are a wonderful son, and a very polite young man!”

Boy: “I love my mom. She’s the best!” *smiles*

(Moved by his thoughtfulness, his manners, and his absolutely charming smile, I decide to help him out a bit.)

Me: “Okay, here you are: your cup, a popcorn and a candy. It’ll be $3.25.”

Boy: *confused look* “Okay?”

(He hands me $4 after I assure him that his total is $3.25, so I start ringing him up.)

Boy: “Ma’am? Can you keep the change for yourself as a tip?”

(My heart melts at this. I did keep the change, but I put it toward the remaining $3.25 I hadn’t charged him, and then covered the rest out of my own pocket. He thanked me again and walked off hand-in-hand with his mom. All of the employees were tickled to see this little boy on his ‘date’ with Mom, and were very glad we were able help by paying for part of his concession but also get to let him feel like a grown-up by paying for part of his snacks. Later, as he’s leaving, I see him putting his trash into the can in the lobby. He sees me and begins to wave.)

Boy: *waving* “Have a very good night!”

If At First You Don’t Succeed, White Lie Again
EDITORS' CHOICE, TECH SUPPORT, USA | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 28, 2009
(Note: I help callers with connection problems with our wireless zones along train lines.)

Me: “Hello, tech support. How may I help you?”

Caller: “I can’t access your network!”

Me: “I’m sorry about that. Let me help you. Where are you currently, sir?”

Caller: “I’m traveling in between [City] and [Other City].”

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry, sir, but there is maintenance being done in that zone. You will have to wait 20 minutes until you are back in a working zone.”

Caller: “What can I do?”

Me: “Just wait until the train is a bit farther on, and you will have a connection again.”

Caller: “This is terrible! Where’s your manager?”

Me: “Sir, it’s four am, so I’m the only one working.”

(The customer hangs up, but then calls back again.)

Me: “Hello, tech support. How may I help you?”

Caller: “F***!”

(Once again, he hangs up, and once again, he calls back.)

Me: “Hello, tech support. How may I help you?”

Caller: “F***!”

(Again, he hangs up, and again, he calls back.)

Me: “Hello, tech support. How may I help you?”

Caller: “Look, I have some important stuff to watch here. Can you fix the Internet?”

Me: “If you just wait ten minutes sir, your Internet will work again.”

Caller: “So, in my zone, there’s no Internet?”

Me: “That’s right, sir.”

Caller: “Can’t you move the satellite so I do have Internet?”

Me: “You want me to go into space and move the satellite?”

Caller: *cheerily* “Yeah, that’s right!”

Me: “Um… Well, that might take me a little bit of time, sir. I’ll have to call NASA, and they’re very busy these days.”

Caller: “Oh. How long do you think it’ll take?”

Me: “About ten minutes.”

Caller: “That’s great! Thank you.” *hangs up*

Why Nurses Should Rule The World
ADORABLE CHILDREN, MEDICAL OFFICE, NURSES | RIGHT | OCTOBER 29, 2012
(My five-year-old son has received a serious injury to his eye. After a pediatrician recommends us to an eye doctor, we are referred to a specialist that works out of a university two hours away from home.)

Nurse: “These are all the contact numbers you should need. I also went online for some directions, and called ahead to let them know it should only be a few hours.”

Son: “I don’t want to.”

Nurse: “What’s the matter?”

Son: *visibly getting upset* “I’m scared.”

Nurse: “But you’ve been so brave this whole time! How about this: if you go see the new doctor, I’ll give you my phone number and you can call me if you get too upset, okay?”

(The nurse writes down her work extension and cell phone number on a piece of paper and adds it to my paperwork, insisting that I feel free to call if I have any problems or questions. My son stays calm all the way to the university and through the appointment with the specialist until we’re told he’s going to need surgery. Crying and upset, he begs me to call the nurse from the clinic.)

Me: *on the phone* “I’m so sorry to bother you, I know you’re still working, but he’s really upset and asked to talk to you.”

(I put the phone on speakerphone so my son, crying on the exam table, can hear.)

Nurse: “Hey, buddy! What’s wrong?”

Son: *crying* “The doctor here wants to give me surgery!”

Nurse: “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’ll make your eye all better. You’ll be able to see again, like we talked about.”

Son: “But I’m scared! It’s going to hurt!”

Nurse: “Of course it’s not going to hurt. That nice doctor wouldn’t hurt you!”

Son: “Have you been given surgeries?”

Nurse: “Yeah, kiddo, a few.”

Son: “And you came back to life?”

Nurse: “Every single time.”

Son: “Promise?”

Nurse: “Swear.”

(My son has calmed down considerably throughout the conversation, and there’s not a dry eye in the room.)

Son: “Okay…”

Nurse: “See? I knew you were brave.”

Son: “Thank you! Love you!”

Nurse: *laughing* “Love you, too.”

(I thanked the nurse a thousand times, and she insisted I call her ASAP to let her know how the surgery went. Later that day, she texted us a picture of herself and her family with a ‘GET WELL SOON’ sign they made for my son!)

In Soviet Russia, Accent Speaks You
AWESOME, EDITORS' CHOICE, PIZZA | RIGHT | DECEMBER 14, 2009
(The phone rings.)

Cashier: “Hello, [Name] Pizza… Oh, f***, not again.”

(She hangs up. A few customers come and go, and the phone rings again.)

Cashier: “Hello, [Name] Piz— f*** this!”

Customer: “Hey, lady, problem with the phone?”

Cashier: “Some sicko keeps calling from a blocked number and making creepy comments.”

Customer: “Hang on. I gotta go find my friend.”

(He pays and leaves… and comes back with a 6’8″ NYPD police officer.)

Police Officer: *with a minor Russian accent* “I hear you’re having a problem with a caller?”

Customer: “No, no. Do the accent! Make it f***in’ scary!”

Police Officer: *in a deeper voice with a thick accent* “Excuse me. I hear you have problem with caller?”

(The cashier explains. The police officer orders a slice of pizza, and he and his friend sit and chat for a few minutes. Then the phone rings.)

Cashier: “It’s a blocked number!”

Police Officer: *on the phone, with the accent* “Hello… You are thinking my body is what? I am thinking your body probably very fragile. Very easy to— Oh, he hung up.”

(They stare at the phone a few minutes.)

Customer: “Problem solved?”

Cashier: *to the customer* “So… is your buddy there single?”

Police Officer: *in accent* “Boris have many women. All are love him!”

Customer: “You’re married and your name isn’t Boris!”

Police Officer: “Boris is name of accent. Has life of its own.”

See this story as a comic!

Retail Defender, AntiCheapskate Edition
BAD BEHAVIOR, ELECTRONICS STORE, RETAIL, RUDE & RISQUE, USA | RIGHT | JULY 5, 2008
(I work in a large electronics retail chain. A guy asks me to find the latest version of Norton AntiVirus for him, which I do. He takes a look at the price and starts yelling about how outrageous it is ($100.00 US).)

Guy: “What the h***? How can you people get away with this? This is a scam!”

Me: “Sir, I can suggest another type of protection if this one is too expensive…”

Guy: “No way! This is the one I want, but I’m not paying this.”

Me: “Sir I–”

Guy: “I bet I can find it online for much cheaper. Heck, even free! ”

Me: “Sir, I think that–”

Guy: “That’s what I’ll do… I’ll find it for free online! Better than this s***!”

(A young woman nearby is listening and speaks up.)

Woman: “Yeah, you can find it online, for free.”

Guy: “Really, where? Tell me!”

Woman: “[A disturbing p*rn site that I would not recommend viewing].”

Guy: “Thanks!” *turns back to me, smirking* “Ha, guess I won’t be spending any money on this s***!”

Me, to the girl: “That… was awesome.”

Woman: “Well, an a**hole like that deserves it. I figured that you couldn’t tell him that without getting fired.”

(The young woman gets a free gift card; that guy never comes back. I still wonder what went through his mind when the site popped up.)

Flipping Out
CABLE COMPANY, EDITORS' CHOICE, GRANDPARENTS | RIGHT | DECEMBER 8, 2009
Me: “Thank you for calling [Cable Company]. How may I help you?”

Caller: “We just moved my grandmother’s TV and I think the cable has been disconnected at the outlet where we moved it. Could you send someone to reconnect it?”

(Suddenly, the grandmother grabs the phone.)

Caller’s Grandmother: *yelling* “That is not what happened! The cable has been hooked to that outlet since the ’70s! You people just need to flip the little switch and turn it back on!”

(The grandson gets back on the phone.)

Caller: “I am so sorry. Please ignore her. I just need to set up an appointment for the technician to come out.”

Me: “No problem. My grandmother can be like that, too. I can have someone out on Tuesday.”

Caller’s Grandmother: *yelling in the background* “You are not listening! All they have to do is flip the switch! Don’t let them lie to you!”

Caller: “Grams, when you moved the TV back in the ’80s you had the cable disconnected from this outlet and reconnected at the other end.”

Caller’s Grandmother: “Now you’re lying! I’m going to make sure that I’m not here when they come out. This is ridiculous! Tell them not to come!”

Me: “Tell her that our switch is broken here and we have to manually come out and flip it in her home. We’ll be there Tuesday.”

(The grandson relays this information.)

Caller’s Grandmother: “Oh, okay, then. I’ll see them Tuesday.”

Caller: *to me* “Bless you.”

The Right Place At The Wrong Time
RETAIL | RIGHT | JULY 9, 2009
(This took place at the cigar store I work at.)

Me: “Can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I need the biggest cigar you’ve got.”

Me: “OK, our largest is 12 inches long, and the price is $27 before tax.”

Customer: “Whoa! 27 bucks? You got anything cheaper?”

Me: “Well, yes. Is this going to be a gag gift?”

Customer: “Huh?”

Me: “You know, a joke present for someone?”

Customer: “Oh h*** no! I’m just gonna split it and fill it with this.”

(The customer pulls a plastic bag full of marijuana out of his pocket.)

Customer #2 : “Wow, that’s some fine-lookin’ weed you got there!”

Customer: “Yeah, I just bought it.”

(Customer #2 pulls out his badge and identifies himself as a county police officer.)

Customer: “Am I in trouble?”

Customer #2 : “Yes you are.”

Computers Increase The Chance Of Identity Theft
DEPARTMENT STORE, EDITORS' CHOICE, USA, WILD & UNRULY | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 17, 2010
(A customer is requesting a refund on a computer.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. I cannot give you a refund on your computer.”

Customer: “What?! Why the hell not?!”

Me: “You don’t have a receipt. It’s two years old, and long out of warranty.”

Customer: “I’ll have you know, I’m a lawyer, and I could sue you for everything you’ve got!”

Me: “We only have a 30-day refund policy. I’m sorry.”

Customer: “I’m an assistant attorney general, and I will have you reported! This is an outrage!”

Me: “Okay, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Customer: “Don’t you take that tone with me! I’m a board member of this chain, and you need to serve me!”

Me: “If there is nothing else, I’m going to have to ask you to remove your device and leave.”

Customer: “You can’t tell me to leave! I’m the owner’s nephew!”

Me: “Please calm down and leave.”

Customer: “Do you have any idea who I am?!”

Me: “Do you?”

Why Barkeeps Should Rule The World
BAR, EDITORS' CHOICE, FUNNY, MONEY, USA | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 9, 2008
Customer: “How much is Bud Light?”

Bartender: “$3.75.”

Customer: “Well, how much is Miller Light?”

Bartender: “$3.75.”

Customer: “D***! What’s the cheapest thing you got in here?!”

Bartender: “YOU!”

Four Words: Bow, Chicka, Bow and Bow
EDITORS' CHOICE, ELECTRONICS STORE, RUDE & RISQUE, USA | RIGHT | NOVEMBER 9, 2007
(Working as a manager for a retail electronics business, I have a customer come in with a DVD player in a box, opened.)

Customer: “This DVD player doesn’t work. It won’t play my DVDs. Can I get an exchange?”

Me: “Well, let’s see if we can get it to work.”

(I take the DVD player over to the AV wall and quickly hook it up to our system. It takes under 30 seconds to do so, the customer in tow.)

Me: “Oh, here’s the problem. It seems that the disc somehow ended up upside down in the DVD player.”

(I flip the DVD over without even looking at the disc or anything and push it back in, turning back to the customer.)

Customer: “Oh, great! I knew something wasn’t quite ri–”

(Suddenly, coming up on all my TVs, blaring through the sound system that is usually playing a music DVD, comes blasting ‘Bow Chicka-Bow Bow!’ and a rather grotesque scene of cheesy p*rn. I think it is the fastest I have ever moved, because by the time the first customer turned around to see what was going on, I had the AV cables yanked.)

Customer: “Uh… That’s where that went! Heh…” *VERY sheepish look*

Me: “Okay, all fixed. Need me to help put this back in the box for you?”

Customer: “No, thanks. I can do it. Thank you for all your help.”

(I guess I wasn’t quick enough or just the sheer recognition of the music line, because I had two customers laughing very hard and one old lady who walked out very fast.)

So Dumb It Hurts
EDITORS' CHOICE, PETS & ANIMALS, STUPID, USA, VET | RIGHT | AUGUST 11, 2008
(I work at a vet’s office and am giving a woman and her three children basic grooming information for their new puppy. The conversation has already been going on for an hour.)

Me: “…the groomers can do different ‘cuts’ or ‘styles’ for your dog, depending on how you want him to look.”

Customer: “Will that hurt?”

Me: “Will what hurt?”

Customer: “Cutting him. Will it hurt when you cut him?”

Me: “No… it’s not cutting HIM; it’s just cutting his fur.”

Customer: “Oh… but will that hurt?”

Me: “No… it’s hair.”

Customer: “Are you sure it won’t hurt when you cut it?”

Me: “It’s just like when you get your own hair cut. Does it hurt when you get your hair cut?”

Customer: *looks confused*

Me: “Okay… well, no, it won’t hurt.”

(I then go on to other aspects of grooming… clipping toenails, cleaning the ears, etc.)

Me: “…you can clean the puppy’s ears if they get dirty, or just whenever you give him a bath.”

(I go over the ear cleaning process.)

Customer: “Will it hurt? ”

Me: “No… he may not like it and may shake his head, but it shouldn’t hurt. Just make sure you don’t stick anything, like a Q-Tip, into his ear.”

Customer: “Okay, so how do I do that?”

(I go over the ear cleaning process again.)

Me: “…and again, just whenever you give him a bath…”

Customer: “Okay, how do I do that? ”

Me: “Well, there are several different shampoos you can use…”

Customer: “But how do I do that?”

Me: “You mean… how do you actually give him a bath?”

Customer: “Yes, how do I do that?”

Me: “Just like you’d bathe your kids… The puppy’s small, so you can bathe him in the sink, or in the bathtub…”

Customer: “But how do I bathe him?”

(At this point, I look at the woman’s three children and wonder how they’ve survived their mother.)

Me: “Umm… you put water on him… Err… You know, we have full-service grooming here. It includes a bath. We’ll do everything for you: cut his toenails, clean his ears, trim his hair…”

Customer: “But we don’t want to hurt him. Will a bath hurt?”

Me: “It’s WATER!”

Thank You For Calling Planet Of The Apes
CALL CENTER, EDITORS' CHOICE, TECH SUPPORT, USA | RIGHT | JULY 17, 2009
Me: “Thank you for calling tech support. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Hello?”

Me: “Hello?”

Customer: “Hello?”

Me: “Hello?”

Customer: “Hey, Jon, check this out! The machine says hello back when I say hello!”

Me: “I’m not a machine, sir.”

Customer: “OH, MY GOD! IT’S ADDRESSING ME!”

Me: “No, sir, I’m not a machine!”

Customer: “Oh… So, you’re one of them human peoples?”

Me: “Yes, sir. I am a human peoples.”

Stress About The Dress
BAD BEHAVIOR, EDITORS' CHOICE, INSTANT KARMA, RETAIL, USA, UTAH, WEDDING | RIGHT | OCTOBER 21, 2013
(I’m an overweight woman who has always struggled with weight due to a non-functioning thyroid. I struggle to find a store that caters to larger brides until I find this one, so I go to see what they have. There’s a large woman (probably about 5’5 and 350-380 pounds) on the stage in the center of the room having a fitting done. I’m browsing the catalogs when I hear an exchange between a daughter and her mother and the manager. The daughter is a thin girl who appears spoiled with how she talks. The daughter is staring at the larger woman on the stage, and leans in to her mother.)

Daughter: “I can’t believe someone like her is actually getting married!”

Mother: “I didn’t think whales mated for life!”

(The bride-to-be has clearly heard the comments, and is looking devastated. She takes a step away from the manager who is doing the fitting, but the manager stops her and walks up to the mother and daughter.)

Manager: “I can’t believe you think you’re going to get a dress from my store.”

Daughter: “Well, joke’s on you, then, because I’m actually here to pick it up! Besides, I’ve already paid.”

Manager: “Oh, you’re picking up your order? What’s the name?”

Mother: “It’s [Name].”

Manager: “All right…”

(The manager goes behind the counter, taps some things on the register, and then hands a receipt.)

Manager: “I need you to sign this.”

Mother: “What’s this?”

(The mother signs anyway.)

Manager: “That’s you signing that you have accepted a full refund for your purchase. You can find another store to get your dresses at. I just cancelled your order and am refusing you service. Now leave before I call the police.”

Daughter: “YOU CAN’T DO THIS! MY WEDDING IS IN NEXT WEEK! HOW DARE YOU!”

(The daughter starts throwing things around.)

Mother: “We had those dresses custom made! How could you cancel her order! Look at her!”

Manager: “I cancelled the order because I am not going to let any bride feel like she’s not worthy of marriage just because of her size. Clearly you both feel that you are better than others, and I have no place for clients that are, frankly, a**-holes. I’m calling the police, and since I still have your card information, I’m going to charge you for whatever damages your daughter causes.”

(The manager picked up the phone. The mother grabbed her daughter and they rushed out of the door. I ended up buying my dress from them, and it was BEAUTIFUL! Turned out the manager had a daughter who had a severe thyroid disease and had struggled with weight as well!)

Ironically, She Was Seeing Get Smart
AT THE CHECKOUT, EDITORS' CHOICE, FUNNY, MOVIE THEATER, ONE-LINER, SARCASM | RIGHT | APRIL 10, 2009
(I’m finishing a transaction with a customer at the movie theater.)

Me: “… and would you like to make a donation to [Charity] today?”

Customer: “Well, let me ask you something: do YOU donate to charity?”

Me: “Yes, of course. I donate to this one as well as several others.”

Customer: “Well, do YOU work for any charitable organizations?”

Coworker: “Actually she works with the mentally handicapped and developmentally disabled forty hours per week.”

Customer: “Oh, really? Where?”

Coworker: “Here.”

Customer: “I really don’t appreciate that!”

*Sigh*, They Grow Up So Slow…
EDITORS' CHOICE, GAMES, PARENTS/GUARDIANS, SPORTS | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 3, 2009
(A customer slams open the door to our indoor paintball field and storms in, shouting.)

Customer: “Where’s the manager?!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m the owner. What is the problem?”

Customer: “I saw on your web site that you require a parental consent for kids to play at your field. Well, I never signed one, and my son said he’d been playing paintball here. He has bumps and bruises all over him, and I NEVER signed a consent form!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. He must have forged your name or had another adult sign for him. What’s his name? I’ll find the consent form.”

Customer: “His name is [Son].”

(I find his form and show it to her.)

Me: “Is this your son’s form?”

Customer: “Yes! See, I never signed it!”

Me: “Ma’am, your son is 27 years old. Only children are required to have a parent’s signature to play.”

Customer: “But he is a child! He’s my child!”

Me: “I’m sorry, let me rephrase that. Only children under the age of 18 need to have a parent’s signature to play. Since your son is 27, he can sign for himself that he understands all of the risks involved.”

Customer: “This is insane! He could get his eye shot out, or be knocked out, or killed! This is illegal! I’m calling the police!”

DOMArry The One You Love
RESTAURANT | RIGHT | JUNE 26, 2013
(A co-worker and I are out to lunch on the weekend with our boss. We’re all really good friends and we are chatting with each other when we notice one of the waiters, who is thin and short, getting harassed by a group of teens.)

Rude Teen #1 : “Haha, look at [waiter] f*** up like he always does!”

Rude Teen #2 : “Ha! D*** f****t!”

(The waiter is doing a good job ignoring the rude teens, but it’s very obvious he’s feeling upset. He’s walking towards us when one of the teens trips the waiter. He falls face first into the food he is carrying.)

Rude Teen #1 : *laughs hysterically* “Oops, don’t fall!”

(The waiter gets up and wipes his face off, but it’s very obvious that he is crying. Having been bullied myself for being gay and being appalled at what’s going on, I stand up and approach the table. Note, I’m 6’3″ and very strong. I stand in between the tables the kids are at and the waiter.)

Me: “Do we have a problem here?”

Rude Teen #2 : “Mind your own business, man!”

Rude Teen #1 : “Yeah, f*** off! This kid is a f****t anyways!”

Me: “I suggest you stop right now, or else…” *I push up my sleeve and flex* “…you all and I are going to have a problem.”

(The two teens slink down into their seats, and I walk the waiter over to his co-workers.)

Me: *to the waiter* “Hey, if anybody ever tries to harass you or hurt you again, call this number. I know what’s like for being bullied because you’re gay. Just remember: I’m here to help you.”

(I give the waiter my phone number. He hugs me and starts crying on my shoulder. While he is, the manager of the store comes by, and I explain the situation to him and point out the two teenagers. After the whole ordeal is done, the manager and the waiter come over to our table and give me a $100 gift card for helping them out. I tell them they don’t have to reward me for being a decent human being, but they keep continuing to offer it. Later that night I get a phone call from that waiter, but it wasn’t about being bullied. Eleven months later, I’m now engaged to the waiter I protected that day.)

The Twilight Of Our Literacy, Part 3
BOOKS & READING, BOOKSTORE, FUNNY, OREGON, PRANKS, TEENAGERS, USA | RIGHT | MAY 20, 2011
Customer: “Hello, do you have any of the new Twilight books?”

Me: “Yes, they’re over here.”

(I lead her to where they would be, but we appear to be sold out. This is strange as all copies were put up this morning.)

Me: “That’s strange. We seem to be out of stock. Can I interest you in anything else?”

Customer: “Ugh, fine. What about this one?”

(They point towards ‘Harry Potter’.)

Me: “Oh, that’s a great book! It’s about a boy who becomes a wizard and-”

Customer: “Are there any werewolves?”

Me: “I think so. I haven’t read them in a while.”

(The customer grabs the entire series of ‘Harry Potter’ and leaves. As I’m about to return to my workstation, two teens run up to me, high-five each other, and tell me they hid all seventy copies of ‘Twilight’ in the ceiling when no one was looking. Although impressed, I have to report them to my manager. After doing so, my manager gives them each a $10 gift card.)

If There Is A God, He Obviously Owns A Dog
PET BOARDING/PET HOTEL, PETS & ANIMALS, SARCASM | RIGHT | APRIL 16, 2009
(Note: this takes place during the middle of a bad rainstorm.)

Customer: “Hi, I wanted to start bringing my dog here but I wanted to make sure that the animals get a lot of exercise.”

Me: “Oh, we just have them in rotations to run on a treadmill. You see, they help to generate power for our building. I think we have Sandy, a cute little chihuahua going right now.”

Customer: “You’re joking, right?”

Me: “Haha, yeah.”

(Moments later, my coworker comes in from the back.)

Coworker: “Hey, Sandy’s loose again. Have you seen the pop-up fence?”

(As if on cue, the storm knocks out power to the building right then and there.)

Customer: “Oh, my god! I’m calling Animal Services and reporting you all!”

Five Days Later
GUN STORE, PAWN SHOP, WILD & UNRULY | RIGHT | OCTOBER 27, 2009
(A customer in their 50s walks into my pawn shop, which sells weapons.)

Customer: “Yeah, can you get me that shotgun behind the table?”

Me: “Sure, do you have your license and registration?”

Customer: “Yeah, right here.”

Me: “Thank you, sir. There’s a five-day waiting period for firearms. Come back soon.”

(He looks disappointed, but forks over the cash and walks out. Five days later…)

Customer: “Okay, dude, I’m back. Where’s the gun?”

Me: “Right here, sir…

(I make the transaction and hand him his shotgun.)

Me: “Have a nice day and come back soon!”

(About one minute after the customer leaves the store, I hear several loud shotgun blasts. I look through the window and the man is firing rounds into the air! He then runs into the store.)

Customer: “The zombie invasion has begun! It’s every man for himself!”

(I hide under the desk and press the silent alarm. Five minutes later, the police arrive, taser the guy, and bring him out of our backroom in cuffs. I work at an ice cream store now.)

It’s What’s For Dinner
AWESOME, EDITORS' CHOICE, FAST FOOD, USA, WORDPLAY | RIGHT | SEPTEMBER 25, 2008
Coworker: Welcome to [Fast Food Burger Joint]. What’s your beef?

Customer: “I ain’t got a beef; you got the beef. What’s YOUR beef?”

Coworker: “I got the good beef. You want some beef?”

Customer: “Yes, I want some beef. You gonna bring it?”

Coworker: “Yeah, I’ll bring it. You payin’?”

Customer: “Course I’m payin’. You makin’?”

Coworker: “Yes, we’re makin’.”

Customer: “Good, how much?”

Coworker: “You have to order first, sir.”

Customer: “Oh, yeah…”