I’m on my break in the store’s breakroom. I’m checking social media on my tablet. I put my tablet down, walk into the corridor where the vending machine is, get a candy bar, come back… and see two children (seven and five years old maybe?) holding my tablet.

Kid #1: “There are no games on here.”

Kid #2: “Download some games!”

Me: “Uh… put that down. That’s not yours. Also, where did you come from?”

Kid #1: “Our mom is shopping.”

I walk over and take the tablet from the kid’s hands.

Kid #1: “Hey!”

Me: “I said put that down. You can’t be back here. This area is for employees only.”

Kid #1: “My mom told us it’s okay.”

Me: “Your mom told you it’s okay to go to the employee break room while she shopped?”

Kid #1: “Yeah. She said you wouldn’t mind because we’re kids.”

Kid #2: “Can we play games?”

Bewildered, I take both kids to the customer service desk and tell my coworker there what happened. I had to convince my coworker that I wasn’t pranking her, and that these weren’t my nephews or something. She puts a call out on the store speakers for the mother, and I go back to enjoy what’s left of my break. 

I heard from my coworker that the mom (who does not, and has never worked for this store) literally told her kids to play in the back and to even ask for snacks from us! Her reasoning? It’s our own fault for not having a dedicated kids’ play area, and she shouldn’t be expected to corral her boys around while she shopped.

I got a random craving for some food from a local Mexican restaurant late one night, so I ordered using a delivery app. This particular place also sells to-go margaritas in little jugs (maybe 16oz), which were on sale at the time, so I got one for later.

When the driver arrived, I saw that he had a female companion in the car. She glared at me as I walked out to greet them.

Driver: “Hey there.”

Me: “Hi. For [My Name]?”

Driver: “Yup. Just need your ID.”

Me: “Sure.”

Passenger: “You know, ordering alcohol for delivery is a sign of alcoholism.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Passenger: “You really need to be in AA or something instead of buying alcohol and having it delivered to your door.”

The driver didn’t say anything, just returned my ID and handed over the order. As he was going back around his car, his companion threw out one more remark.

Passenger: “Get help! Alcoholics don’t get new livers!”

I walked inside and opened my bag to find a piece of paper with the nearest AA location written on it. I reported the interaction to customer support and was credited a whole $2 for my inconvenience. I left a negative review on the driver’s account, detailing what was said and how he did nothing to stop her.

It’s my coworker’s last day working for the store, and he’s had a long week. We’re closing up, and he’s happy to be done with the place. He’s locking the doors when a customer comes rushing over.

Customer: “Let me through!”

Coworker: “We close at 9 PM, ma’am.”

Customer: “If the door isn’t locked yet, that means I can come in to shop!”

Coworker: “The only reason it’s not locked is that I’m talking to you, ma’am. Good night.”

Customer: *Still looking for a reason to complain.* “Well, then your opening hours should be more clearly posted!”

Coworker: “You’ll see the daily hours posted in BIG F***-OFF LETTERS, right next to the door.” *Slides door closed with a slam.* 

Related:
One Door Closes… And That’s It

This was YEARS ago. I had just completed tech school and was awaiting being shipped to my first base. I was on the detail to clean the lobby of the dormitory (other branches call these barracks, the Air Force calls them dorms).

To start, the Sergeant in charge demanded that the floors be swept and mopped, because in his words, the lobby was “a mud-pit.” Mississippi at that time of year is rather wet, and the grounds were kind of unkempt, so his assessment wasn’t unfair.

To start, I opened the janitor’s closet to find that all of the supplies reeked of mold and mildew. I assumed that what appeared was that a careless airman put everything away wet in a dark, enclosed room.

Possessing an adequately functioning brain, I knew not to mop with a tainted mop and proceeded directly to the Sergeant to get a fresh mop and restock the paper towels, which also appeared slightly damp.

Me: “Hey Sarge—”

Sarge: “I thought I told you to sweep and mop!”

Me: “Yes, sir, but—”

Sarge: “Then get out there and do it!”

Me: “Will do, sir, but I was hoping I could get-”

Sarge: “How hard is it to follow orders, Airman?!”

Me: “Understood, sir.”

So, I swept, and then proceeded to mop the lobby with a mop that REEKED of mold and mildew using the Pine-Sol available to me. After I passed his office, he said something along these lines:

Sarge: “What on earth are you doing, Airman?”

Me: “Mopping as instructed, sir.”

Sarge: “I didn’t tell you to spread mildew everywhere! Don’t you know how to use a fresh mop?”

Me: “We don’t have any in the janitor’s closet, and the fresh ones are locked up with the office supplies in your office.”

The guy happened to have an allergy and had to go home early. For the short remainder of my time there, I was not interrupted when I asked clarifying questions.

I was stocking period products at the store opening in my small grocery store, and a kinda frantic man came hurrying up the aisle. He told me he was a single dad, and his eleven-year-old daughter had woken up to her first period, and he needed help.

I found him some suitable pads, but also was able to fill him in on some other things his girl would likely be dealing with, such as cramps, period poops, etc.

The more I described, the more horrified he looked.

Customer: “This… this is all awful!”

Me: “Haha, it’s not great.”

Customer: “All women deal with this?”

Me: “Every person on this planet with a working set of ovaries deals with this.”

Customer: “I… I never knew.”

Me: “Well, the important thing is you have everything you need. It’s great that you’re trying to do your best for his daughter.”

Customer: “Is this everything I need, though? I mean, everything you just described sounds so terrible. I don’t want to come back out and make her wait if she’s suffering.”

Me: “Does she like ice cream?”

Customer: “She loves it!”

Me: “Go get her some too. Her favorite flavor.”

Customer: “But… I don’t know her favorite flavor!”

So that’s how I had some guy buying fifteen tubs of Ben & Jerry’s at 7:15 AM…