An angry older woman skips the line to storm up to me at the customer service desk and demands the store manager. I call him over while I serve the customers actually patient enough to wait their turn. The manager arrives and introduces himself.

Customer: “I should call the police on you! I caught my son with cigarettes, and he said he got them here! You should all be ashamed!”

Manager: “I’m very sorry, madam. We always ID for tobacco purchases, so I can’t explain why that happened. Maybe he was carrying a fake ID?” 

Customer: “And now you’re accusing him of having counterfeit documents?! I am reporting you to the Better Business Bureau and complaining on your Facebook page!”

Manager: “Do you know when he made the purchase? We can check the camera footage and see if we can figure out what happened.” 

She gives us a short window when her son was here this morning, and from the terminal at the customer service desk, [Manager] is able to isolate the purchase.

Customer: “That’s him! See?! You just sold him the cigarettes without any issue!” 

Manager: “Ma’am… first of all, we can all see that he clearly presented ID, but second of all, if that is your son, then he’s an adult.”

Customer: “He is an adult when I say he is!”

Manager: “How old is he?”

Customer: “That’s not the point! The point is that you sold them to him, and you didn’t even get my permission! I do not allow him to smoke!”

Manager: “Ma’am, if he’s over twenty-one, which he clearly looks to be based on the video, then he doesn’t need your permission to buy cigarettes — or anything for that matter. He’s an adult, and we have done nothing that the Better Business Bureau can do anything about.”

Customer: “Then I am still going to blast you for this all over your Facebook page! I’m going to complain on every post! You need to do something to make sure this doesn’t happen again!” 

Manager: “[My Name], can you go get some popcorn from the snack aisle, please?”

Customer: “What?! Why? I’m not asking for popcorn!”

Manager: “Oh, no, it’s not for you; it’s for us. If you’re going to go on to [Store]’s Facebook page to complain that we should have called you for permission to sell cigarettes to your twenty-one-or-over-year-old son, then those comments are going to be very entertaining.” *To me* “[My Name], get the family size. I have a feeling I’m going to be reading them for a while…”

My (former) boss was absolutely insane, and what she did to another employee caused a mass quitting at my workplace.

I worked at a salon and spa. We had a coworker who, admittedly, had a personal life that was nothing less than a disaster and she made awful life choices. However, she was ALWAYS at work on time and was extremely talented, so we just listened to her trainwreck stories and moved on.

Then, her boyfriend moved out; he just left while she was visiting family out of state, taking their dogs with him. She was obviously devastated and called out for a few days in a row.

I was a manager, and I didn’t care that she called out because it was out of the norm for her to call in. Having heard many stories of the chaos that was her life, I just took it on faith that her life had finally taken a sudden left turn that she couldn’t just spring back from, and she needed the time. Eventually, everyone snaps and just needs that space, you know? Despite being a wreck, she was still reaching out to me occasionally to check in, and I just kept telling her to take the time she needed to put herself back together and do some proper self-care.

On day three of her calling out, [Salon Owner] entered the fray. Now, let me make this as clear as I can: what happened next wasn’t a rumor, nor did I hear it secondhand. [Salon Owner] was openly proud of herself and didn’t miss a chance to tell anyone what she’d done.

[Salon Owner] decided that [Coworker] had been given enough time and took action. She found [Coworker]’s home address on the employment paperwork, went to [Coworker]’s house, searched the yard until she found a hidden spare key, and walked right in. [Salon Owner] then stormed through the house until she found [Coworker]’s bedroom, threw open the door, and shouted her awake.

Salon Owner: “Wake up and get dressed! It’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourself! You have work to do, and I expect you to do it. The world doesn’t stop for you just because you want to pout.”

[Coworker] let out a string of curses.

Coworker: “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! ARE YOU INSANE?! THIS IS NOT OKAY!”

Salon Owner: “You have a job to do!”

Coworker: “Not today.”

Salon Owner: “Get up, get dressed, and get in the car. I’m driving you, so you don’t even have to drive yourself.”

Coworker: “I’m not coming in. I already called out.”

[Salon Owner] ignored that statement.

Salon Owner: “Get dressed. You have five minutes to get ready. Either do it, or you’re fired!”

Coworker: “GET THE F*** OUT! I’M CALLING THE POLICE!”

[Salon Owner] left after telling [Coworker] that she was fired. The staff was absolutely gobsmacked as [Salon Owner] bragged about this incident to everyone and flatly told the rest of us that she would do the same to any of us if we tried to be lazy like [Coworker] was.

As we tried to string words together to mention just how illegal that was, we were all struck silent (again) by police officers coming into the salon and telling [Salon Owner] that they needed to talk.

I had been planning to open my own salon soon anyway, so I just looked at my staff.

Me: “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m typing up my resignation, effective immediately.”

The rest of the staff weren’t far behind me.

Related:
Like A Good Sister, Lock Up Your Audacity!
Like A Good Neighbor, It’s Nice That They Care
Like A Good Neighbor, Don’t Be A Creep!
Like A Good Neighbor, Stay Out Of My House!
Like A Good Neighbor, Eyes To Yourself!

This is about my own wedding and how an entitled mom nearly turned it into her personal circus.

My fiancé (now husband) and I planned our wedding for over a year. We wanted something small yet elegant, with close family and friends. My husband’s family is pretty down-to-earth — except for his aunt, who is known for her over-the-top behavior and entitlement.

Everything was going smoothly until the week before the wedding. [Aunt] called and demanded that we include her six-year-old daughter (my husband’s cousin) as a flower girl. We already had two flower girls, my nieces, who were thrilled about it. I politely declined, explaining that arrangements had already been made.

[Aunt] didn’t take this well. She started a tirade about how her daughter was being excluded unfairly and how we were ruining her child’s self-esteem. I tried to stay calm, but she was relentless.

I thought that was the end of it, but oh, was I wrong.

On our wedding day, [Aunt] showed up with her daughter dressed in a full-blown white, frilly flower girl dress. She marched up to me, demanding that her daughter be included in the ceremony.

I was flabbergasted. My husband and I, along with our wedding planner, tried to reason with her, but she caused a huge scene, saying things like, “How could you be so selfish on your wedding day?” and, “You’re destroying a little girl’s dream!”

My usually quiet mother-in-law had had enough. She stepped in and told [Aunt] in no uncertain terms that this was our day, not hers or her daughter’s. She said that if [Aunt] couldn’t respect our wishes, they would have to leave.

[Aunt] was shocked. She tried to argue, but other family members, who were equally fed up with her antics, supported my mother-in-law’s stance. Realizing she was outnumbered, [Aunt] left in a huff, her daughter in tow.

The rest of the wedding went off without a hitch, and everyone had a great time.

We heard through the grapevine that [Aunt] complained about us to anyone who would listen, but most of the family knew her history and took it with a grain of salt.

I’m grateful for my amazing in-laws who stood up for us, boosting my confidence in our marriage’s success even more.

I’m a graphic designer. A bar wants me to design a mascot for them. They’ve got a fairly firm image: they want a cartoon dog holding a martini.

I design a few cartoon dogs for them and let them pick which breed is their favorite. For the next project, they want me to do some word art with the dog’s name, “Ruffi”.

Me: “Uh… like a roofie?”

Client: “Yeah! It’s a word that’s associated with alcohol, and it’s a noise that a dog makes! It’s a pun! It’ll be great!”

Me: “I think maybe people will find it insensitive. Maybe name the dog ‘Hair’ or ‘Bitty’, as in ‘hair of the dog that bit you’? Or you could call it a ‘Scotch terrier’? Or, well, anything but ‘Ruffi’.”

Client: “We’re not paying you for opinions on the dog’s name.”

Me: “All right.”

One year later, the guy asked for a refund because customers found the dog’s name creepy, and it was driving away business. I pointed out our earlier email chain. He did not get a refund.

He did, however, pay me to make word art for the dog’s new name.

I worked as a cashier, bagger, and cart attendant about twenty years ago when I was in high school. I would go to work right after school most of the week, and I worked every weekend.

It was in the summer, and I had just come back to my register after collecting carts outside. I guess smaller, less busy stores didn’t have dedicated cart people. I was red, sweaty, and a bit out of breath when I started ringing people up. The second customer up was a lady with two kids, and she looked as flustered as I did. She wasn’t angry — she smiled, and I smiled back — just kind of in a hurry and dealing with these kids, I guess. The items she was buying suggested a trip to the beach or a nearby pool somewhere. 

As I finished ringing her up, she grabbed a pair of sandals before I could bag them, with the labels and a rubber strap still on them.

Customer: “Could you cut the labels and this strap off so I can use them at the pool?”

I thought nothing of it, grabbed some scissors, and cut the labels off. I handed them right back seeing as how she was in a hurry. She smiled again and thanked me, and I smiled back. No problem.

The total came out to around $40 or so, and she handed me the cash. I punched it into the register and handed her the change — about $1.50.

Customer: *Smiling* “Keep it and buy yourself a slice of pizza from the cafe.”

I smiled, thanked her, and made sure to do just that later on.

The whole thing lasted about a minute. It was just a few straps on some sandals, and it was just one slice of pizza, but I’ll always remember that interaction for some reason. 

Related:
A Hot Slice Of Kindness, Part 7
A Hot Slice Of Kindness, Part 6
A Hot Slice Of Kindness, Part 5
A Hot Slice Of Kindness, Part 4
A Hot Slice Of Kindness, Part 3