Sometimes, the most annoying part of work can be the customers. Can’t they accept they’re not always in the right? Apparently not! Workers on Quora and Reddit share the time a rude customer pushed them to their breaking point. Content has been edited for clarity.
Messed With The Wrong Person
“I’m a senior guy, last time I was on duty for tech support I was sixth level support (Any problem that reached me was not solvable, so it was my duty to act as an executive and explain to the customer their problem couldn’t be solved promptly and we’d look at it again tomorrow). However, I tell my people if they ever have a particularly irate customer, get me. I’m skilled at soothing people because I can ‘take care of them personally’ while really delegating their work to my people, and also I’m high enough up in the food chain if it gets nasty I’ll survive it, they won’t. And once in a while, the customer has legitimately had bad experiences in the past, and a little handholding can turn an enemy into a friend.
One day, one of my techs came into my office to let me know they had a situation in the main office. I came over and it was a professor pitching a fit because her speakers were broken, and she wanted new speakers so she could listen to her collection of MP3s.
I explained to her gently we did not in fact support speakers, so we didn’t have any. If she’d waited, I would have told her if she just got her dean to phone me I would be happy to get her some, or if she’d been nice about it, I would have suggested a good shop where she could get some cheap and offered to install them for her. But no, she was bound and determined to be as nasty as possible about it.
So after she interrupted to rip me a new one, I waited her out while she ranted, then I explained to her MP3s were banned from employee computers so we would not in fact be getting speakers for her, and further I was tired of her screaming at me and my people so she could get her sorry bitt out of my office and never come back. If she had any further IT issues, she should ask her dean to submit them for her. She stormed out in an angry huff, and I turned around to find my entire staff with jaws hanging open. I thanked them for their excellent work and told him if she returned they should call security and then me, in that order.
Then I went back to my desk to wait for the call. I wasn’t sure where it would come from. It ended up being the provost… who I was on a first-name basis with. The professor didn’t know I was friendly with all of the management, and the head of security, and had done them all favors and made homemade fudge for many of them, so they liked me. It was a friendly chat. The professor was told to get bent. I sent someone around after hours to delete her illegal mp3 collection.
Don’t mess with the head sysadmin. You’ll lose.”
So That’s Why There Was No ID
“I currently work at a gas station, and it isn’t in the best location of town, to say the least. Every shift I work, I encounter many people I would rather not deal with. They’re usually hammered or high, and many of them are rude. They get upset with me if I refuse to lend them my money to cover the cost of their drinks when they don’t have enough. People addicted to gambling have cussed me for selling them scratch-off tickets they didn’t win on after spending the last of their money, and heaven forbid if we are out of promotional products and someone has to pay the regular price for a pack of smokes. I have many more pleasant customers than rude ones, but out of all the customer service-related jobs I have worked, I have never had to deal with so many rude customers daily as I do being a gas station clerk. I usually take all rude comments in stride, don’t lose my cool, and try to resolve any matter peacefully. I’m a very friendly person, and I hate conflict.
Another part of my job that can cause problems is asking for identification for the sale of adult drinks. In the state of Tennessee, I am required by law to ask for an ID for every purchase of adult beverages regardless of age, and even if I have seen their ID before. I have some customers I card three to four times a day. I have the date of birth of 20+ people memorized. For other substances, I am required to card anyone who appears to be under the age of 40. Not only would I lose my job if I failed to follow the law, but I could also face criminal charges, and penalties so I make sure I do my job correctly. Thankfully, most people have no problem with this, but some do.
One day, I had a young man come in who looked under the age of 20. He placed a bottle of Powerade and a bag of Cheetos on my counter, which I rang up. After that point things escalated pretty quickly, this is our altercation;
‘I need a pack of Swishers, white grape,’ he said.
‘Ok, can I see your ID please?’ I asked
‘No,’ he replied.
‘I’m sorry sir, but I cannot sell this to you without seeing your ID,’ I explained.
‘Brat!’ he screamed.
‘Excuse me?’ I asked in shock.
‘You heard me! You’re not going to sell me that?’ he roared
‘I’m sorry, but no, I am not. No ID, no sale.’ I firmly told him,
I had kept my composure until this point, after what he said next, I lost it.
‘You’re a stupid freaking brat.’
I pulled his bag off the counter and set it on the floor beside me, and snapped, ‘I’m not selling you anything, and I am not going to be disrespected like that. You need to leave.’
‘Oh, you’re not going to sell me my stuff? I’m paying for it, give it to me,’ he snapped.
‘Heck no I’m not selling it to you, I have the right to refuse the sale, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. You’re not paying for it because I’m not selling you a darn thing. Get the heck out of my store before I call the police.’
‘Call the police, they won’t do anything,’ he roared.
So I picked up the phone and called dispatch. Once he realized I was actually on the phone with the police, he quickly swiped something from the counter and held it up in the air as he walked out the door.
So, my report changed from a disturbance and a customer harassing me, to a report of theft. I walked out the door of the store to give the officer a description of the vehicle he got in, and as I was standing there, he drove toward and nearly hit me. I quickly stepped back, and as he drives past I am able to give the officer a tag number, and the direction he turns once he pulls out.
About 10 minutes later, an officer showed up at the store and informed me they pulled him over about a mile down the road and he had been arrested. He then told me he only stole a candy bar, and asked if we (the store) wanted to press charges. I contacted my manager, who said that she wanted him banned from the store, but since it was only a candy bar we weren’t going to press charges for the theft.
The next day, my manager asked me to tell her exactly what happened, and I did, including how I responded. Her response was had she known the whole story, and how he spoke to me, she would have pressed charges.
Considering we didn’t press charges, I was curious as to why he was arrested. So I looked up the arrest record. He had two charges of failure to appear in court and driving on a suspended license. It makes sense now why he refused to show his ID.
I snapped and got away with it. His being rude led to him being arrested. He probably thought I wouldn’t call the police, but he chose the wrong person to disrespect that day.”
That’s A Good Manager
“Here’s a story from my time as a McDonald’s employee.
It was during the week around eight pm, and the restaurant was quieter than usual, so a few people had been sent home early, and others were given extra breaks.
I was on the front counter by myself, when in walked this group of guys all around their mid- 20’s, and I could straight away tell they were going to be a test of my patience. Instead of talking to each other, they seemed to prefer to half-shout, with the odd swear word thrown in for good measure. One of the guys leaned halfway across the counter to read my name badge, and then kept unnecessarily saying my name throughout his order.
(‘Hello, can I have a Big Mac meal Bridie. But with no pickles Bridie. With a Coke please, Bridie.’)
His friends all seemed to find this hilarious. Furthermore, nearly all the items they ordered were customized somehow. (Seriously, all McDonald’s workers hate this.)
When I asked them to find a table and sit down, as their order would take a while, they started kicking up a fuss. I explained whilst the restaurant was quiet, the drive-thru was still fairly busy, and custom orders had to be cooked from scratch which can take a fair few minutes.
One of the guys leered at me, commenting they would all go and sit down if I would ‘suck them off.’
I snapped and loudly informed them they had no right to speak to me that way. Who the heck do they think they are?
I was fuming, and what made it worse is they all laughed, commenting, ‘Oooh! No need to get your panties in a twist.’
Meanwhile, having heard my raised voice, the store manager came out of his office. He walked up to me, and put his hand on my shoulder, leading me away from the counter asking if I was OK.
‘No, I’m not serving them!’ I replied. ‘They can’t speak to me like that. They’ve been awful this whole time, and one of them asked me to suck them all off! They—’
Next thing I knew, my 40-something-year-old manager had jumped over the counter, and started chasing these guys out of the restaurant and down the street. All the while shouting that they couldn’t ‘speak to [his] staff that way!’ and he was going to ‘kill [them]!’
He returned five minutes later, rang the police, gave them a description of the guys and got them banned from the premises.”
She Said She Did Not Want One?
“I worked for a few years at a café in Brooklyn – my first ever job in high school and into college. All in all, I was there for about three years; during this time I became an expert barista/waitress. I knew the regulars and their orders well enough to have them ready by the time they walked in the door, trained all the new employees, and was the manager/owner’s right hand in all things cafe-related.
This particular event happened on a Saturday night. Because we were well-known in the area and always pretty busy, we often stayed open until one or two on Friday and Saturday nights. A group of seven came in at about midnight and I always jump at the chance to serve big tables because it can potentially mean big tips. But, let me tell you, this was the worst group I had ever served. They changed tables twice for literally no reason, the gentleman demanded we give him his drink in one of the specialty cups on the wall (something I’ve never done for anyone because those cups are on display to be purchased), so on and so forth.
When taking their orders, the special cup gentleman’s wife insisted she didn’t want anything – I said, ‘Are you sure? Can I get you a water?’
But no, she didn’t want anything. I took the rest of the orders, made the drinks, then came back seven minutes later and served them. As soon as I finished setting the drinks down and walked back behind the counter, Mr. Special Cup followed me there (even though customers aren’t allowed there) and threw a tantrum because I didn’t bring his wife a drink. He was full-blown screaming at me in this tiny café about how incompetent I am, this is the worst service he’s ever received in his life, he’s been coming here for years but he’ll never come back here again and I should know I am personally to blame.
My manager, upon hearing this guy berating me, came over to see what’s up. SC just continues to rip into me – my manager should be ashamed to have ever hired me, I should be fired immediately, he’s going to tell all of his friends never to step foot in this establishment ever again, blah blah. But then my manager stands up for me as I’ve never been stood up for before.
‘Sir, she has been working here for years and I’ve never once received a single complaint about her – in all honesty, she’s the most experienced and probably the best server in this café. If you are having a problem with her, it’s because you are the issue. Now, I’ve never seen you here once before, so I can say with certainty you won’t be missed should you choose never to come back. I’m not going to ask you to pay for your drinks, although I should considering how disrespectful you’ve been to my staff, but I am going to ask you to leave immediately.’
They left and I immediately walked into the bathroom and cried – partially because I was just so shaking up and angered by what the customer had said to/about me, but mostly because I was so grateful to have a manager willing to stick his neck out like that for me. Cheers to you, Boss man.”
Totally In The Right Here
“When I worked at a CVS a couple of years ago, I had a husband and wife come in right as I opened up. They were usuals at my store and they were a pain every time. So I braced myself for the fight I’d have to put up, just to cave to what they wanted.
Anyway, as I was the only one in the store, I make sure to inform them the coupon they planned to use can’t be on sale items. The husband took offense to this; saying he knows how to use a coupon and can read, and I should mind my own business. It’s too early for this, but I just took it in stride.
I was silent as I scanned his items, so I’m not berated for trying to make small talk. Half-way through the transaction, I noticed all the items are on sale and inform him. He and the wife get irate; yelling how he was supposed to know that, how it’s my fault for not telling him and the coupon should work to make up for my mistake. He even goes as far to try and grab me from over the counter.
I grab the baseball bat I kept next to me for just this occasion.
‘Touch me and I promise you they’ll be carrying you and your wife out on a stretcher. Get the now before I snap,’ I yelled.
They took off out of the store and never saw them again. My boss and her boss reviewed the tape after I informed her about what happened, and they believe I was justified. I was a legend at the store for what happened.”
Dine Somewhere Else
“In the late eighties, I was a waitress in a restaurant attached to a mall. Two women who worked in the mall came in for lunch and said they only had thirty minutes and to please hurry and bring them two orders of lasagna. Lasagna was the one thing on the menu that took the longest to make because it needed at least 15 minutes in the oven. I ran into the kitchen and told the cook to make it quick, and I had their food out to them in about 12 minutes. Meanwhile, I gave them good attentive service and made sure they were able to get back to work in the mall on time.
Just after they left, I walked up to the table and saw they had paid their entire check of around $15 with loose change. Not the end of the world since, being a waitress and all, I often paid for things with loose change. However, when I counted it out, they had only left one nickel as a tip. I was immediately piping mad, so I ran out into the mall where I could see them a couple of hundred feet away and I yelled at them to ‘keep the change,’ threw the nickel in their direction, and walked back into the restaurant.
The two of them, who were in such a hurry, found time to come back to the restaurant and report me to the manager. He called me to the front of the restaurant where the two women were waiting.
Manager: ‘Did you throw money at these ladies just now?’
Me: ‘Yes.’
Manager: ‘Why would you do something like that?”
Me: ‘Because I provided good service and gave them everything they asked for – they had no complaints; and they insulted me by making me count out their loose change only to find out they left me a nickel, which is worse than nothing. I would have rather they left me nothing.’
Manager looked at the ladies and asked if that was true. ‘
‘It doesn’t matter if it’s true – this waitress is rude and you need to fire her!’ one of them said.
He looked at them and calmly stated, the next time they need quick service and don’t have enough money to leave a tip, they should go to the food court. Their mouths just dropped (so did mine) and they turned and left with their noses in the air.
I smiled at my manager and said, ‘Thank you for sticking up for me!’
To which he replied, ‘Don’t ever do that again.’”
Put In Her Place
“One of my coworkers was feeling under the weather about midway through her shift, so I was asked to move my till over to the register she was on so that she could go home. No biggie.
I grabbed my till, walked over, and quietly told my coworker, ‘Hey, I’m here to relieve you so you can go home. Hope you feel better.’
She finished up her transaction, pulled her till out, and started gathering her stuff.
The next customer in line started complaining about how long she was going to have to wait.
I put my till into the register, (‘It’ll just be a moment, ma’am’) signed on, (‘Just give me a minute and I’ll be with you’), and started scanning her stuff.
The customer complained about my coworker not ringing her up, saying, ‘She should have rung me up! I’ve been waiting for ten minutes.’
(A lie, since it had been slow, with multiple registers open, and my coworker had taken maybe two minutes with her previous customer.)
(Still scanning) ‘I’m very sorry about that, ma’am. But my coworker was not feeling well, and I was asked to relieve her so she could go home,’ I explained.
The customer was not satisfied. ‘Well, why didn’t she stay home, if she was sick?’
I didn’t even look up at that point because I was just seething.
Still scanning her stuff, I responded, ‘Maybe she was feeling well at the start of her shift and only started feeling bad after she got here. Or maybe she tried to come in and work through feeling sick because maybe, just maybe, she relies on the money she makes here to have a roof over her head and food in her stomach and can’t afford to take a sick day.’ (I finished ringing her up) ‘Your total is $XX.’
Not another word out of her. She grabbed her stuff and got out.”
Your Concern Should Be Elsewhere, Lady!
“I worked at a pizza takeaway for a few months while I looked for a better job, and the amount of rude and entitled customers was staggering. Luckily, the owner had our back, which makes all the difference in retail. This particular incident happened on a Saturday morning. My co-worker and I had done all the prep and were taking orders, but the driver was late. Just as we were getting worried, his dad walked into the shop and informed us the driver was in hospital after being knocked off his motorbike by a hammered driver.
We were shocked and horrified. While my co-worker called the owner to explain the situation and try and get another driver to come in, I called all the customers who had ordered to explain what had happened and their orders would be late. Most were understanding and expressed concern for the driver; not this one customer, who I will from now on refer to as ‘Brat Face.’
Brat Face proceeded to screech at me, saying that it was her kid’s birthday party and we had to get her order to her right now or else, and we should give it to her for free because of the inconvenience, etc. Not a shred of concern or pity for the poor driver lying in a hospital bed, Brat Face only cared about herself.
I lost it and told her, interrupting her tirade, ‘You know what? You can stick your order up your butt because I’m canceling it,’ and slammed the phone down.
I didn’t get into trouble after Brat Face complained to the owner, because I called him up after and explained the situation and he was just as shocked and disgusted by her callousness as I was and basically told her to get stuffed. Oh, and the driver was ok, he escaped the accident with a broken collarbone.”
I Wish She Could Have Called His Mom
“I was working as a waitress at a high-end private club in Oklahoma City in a nice building called Penn Square. The club was always crowded and full of wealthy oilmen and their wives or girlfriends (or mistresses).
It was sometimes difficult to get a drink at the bar, so a guy standing at the bar asked me to order him his drink when I stepped up to my station to place my table orders. He said he had been trying to order a drink, but the bartender was so busy.
So I ordered his drink for him, along with my other orders from my bartender, and placed all the drinks on my tray.
He assumed I didn’t order his drink since all drinks were on my tray, and just as I was ready to hand his drink to him, for free, I heard him say under his breath, ‘Brat.’
I couldn’t believe it. I said, “What did you just call me?’
He said all he had asked was for me to get him a drink and I couldn’t even do that for him.
I don’t even know what happened next exactly, but I reached up and grabbed him by the collar and began pulling him through the crowd towards the door, where the doormen and bouncers stood guard. He was so shocked, he barely resisted. He kept saying he didn’t hear me order his drink.
I yelled, ‘Too late! That’s not how you treat a lady and if you say one more word I will call your mother and tell her what you did!’
Have you ever said that to a guy who’s been acting inappropriately? You’d be surprised what a reaction that gets.
There wasn’t any way I could have even called her. I didn’t even know the guy, but just by me saying that, and him thinking I would, got his attention even further. The guy was the same age as I was, and he was getting really afraid of me!
I told security they better never let him back in. I actually tossed him out the door, turned dramatically around, and went back inside to work.”
Want To Try That Again, Lady?
“I worked at a cosmetics store where we provided complimentary makeovers to anyone who asked for it.
One day, a woman came in and sat down on an empty chair and gestured to her face, ‘I want to have some foundation.’
So I went through the routine of questions, ‘What is your skin type? What consistency do you prefer? How much coverage?’
She promptly cut me off, and simply said, ‘Too many questions. I’ll give you five minutes to make me look good.’
I was getting slightly annoyed, but I figured she was maybe just trying to get some makeup done before meeting someone. So, I went with the safe bet: a popular foundation that is highly recommended for sensitive skin (I didn’t want to accidentally break her out). Anyway, I started to apply, and she stopped me and began to raise her voice.
‘What are you doing?! I just want to cover this one spot.’
By the way, she didn’t mention this at all and if she had, I would have applied concealer, which was what she was looking for.
‘Take it off and do it over,’ she demanded.
At this point, I sat down all of my brushes and said, ‘You can say that nicely.’
She stared at me in disbelief, but after about 10 seconds, began to stammer, ‘No… no… I just meant…’
My manager ran over and asked if I wanted my break, and took over. I seldom lose my temper, and I guess she knew that so I never got ‘in trouble’ for it. I certainly was not paid enough (or will ever be paid enough) to be made to feel less of a person.”