I’ve seen all kinds of people walk through the doors of my station—some polite, some distant, some frustrated, and others just looking for someone to unload their anger on. It comes with the job, or so I was told. But nothing prepared me for the day when a customer nearly turned a payment issue into a life-threatening situation.
The Moment Everything Changed
The station was its usual chaos—a revolving door of hurried commuters, muttered greetings, and the occasional outburst from someone who’d missed their train. I was used to it. After years as a station attendant, I could read a customer’s mood the second they stepped up to my window. Polite nods, impatient sighs, the ones who treated me like a malfunctioning vending machine—I’d seen it all.
He came in hot—shoulders tense, jaw clenched. His payment card, a digital wallet issued by our own company, had failed. No funds, no refill. I saw the fury building as I explained, gently, that I needed approval to override it.
I knew this wasn’t going to go well.
I could feel the storm brewing—the way his jaw clenched, his breathing grew shallow, his voice started to rise. I tried to explain, to keep my voice steady, to reassure him that I was waiting for confirmation from the office. But the longer it took, the angrier he became.
Then suddenly, the words weren’t enough anymore.
His hands clenched into fists. His face twisted with rage. And then—he reached down and grabbed a rock.
Time slowed. My training had covered irate customers, but not this. Not the primal terror of watching a stranger weigh a stone in his palm, his eyes locked onto me like I was the cause of every problem in his life.
And picked up a rock.
He was going to throw it.
Panic surged through my body like an electric shock. My mind screamed at me to move, to defend myself, to do something—but at the same time, I was frozen. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not here. Not over a payment issue. Was this how it was going to end for me?
In that moment, fear was replaced by something sharper—anger.
Why was I the one in danger when I was just following the rules? Why did I have to stand here, exposed, while waiting for an approval that should have come in seconds? Why did I have to fear for my life over something I had no control over?
Just as I braced for impact, other customers stepped in. They pulled him back, shouting at him, at me, at the whole situation. And just like that, it was over.
But the worst part wasn’t the rock, the real betrayal came later.
Betrayed by My Own Company
After it was over, after the adrenaline wore off and my hands stopped shaking, I expected concern. Maybe an incident report. At the very least, a "Are you okay?"
Instead, I got called into the manager’s office.
Not to discuss banning the man who’d threatened me. Not to review safety protocols. No—I was there to explain why I hadn’t "de-escalated" effectively.
The ops manager steepled his fingers. "You could’ve been more positive."
They told me I should have been more positive. That I should have tried harder to calm him down. That I should have avoided the situation escalating in the first place.
Positive?
That moment broke something inside me.
Because I realized—if he had actually hit me, they wouldn’t have asked how I felt. They wouldn’t have asked if I needed time off or if I was traumatized. They would have asked what I did wrong.
And that’s when I knew—I had to leave.
Not because of the customer—aggression comes with the job. But because the company’s response taught me a brutal lesson:
Frontline workers are human shields.
We’re expected to absorb abuse, swallow panic, and still chirp, "How can I help?" as if our safety is secondary to a customer’s convenience. Worse? When we’re failed by the systems they created, we’re the ones interrogated.
What Needs to Change
Frontline employees aren’t punching bags with a smile. We are human beings. And if companies actually care about customer experience, they need to start caring about the people who provide it.
✔ Protect Us Before PR. If a customer threatens violence, back your employees immediately—not after a committee debates "policy."
✔Stop Gaslighting Frontline Workers. "Stay positive" isn’t a safety plan. Train managers to ask, "What do you need?" before critiquing reactions.
✔ Make "Zero Tolerance" Real. Ban customers who assault staff. Publicize it. Show employees they’re valued, not sacrificial.
Because until that happens, more people like me will walk away. And these companies will only have themselves to blame.
Final Thought: The Rock Test
Imagine holding a rock. Now imagine your coworker, your sibling, you standing behind the counter as someone raises it.
Does your company’s policy protect them? Or does it hand them a script and hope for the best?
If the answer isn’t crystal clear, it’s time to demand better. Because no paycheck is worth the moment you realize: They’d replace you before they’d risk a bad review.
