(I work in a cosmetics store. My area is extremely busy, with everybody wanting my help at the same time. A rather large family come in, wanting to look at lipsticks. I show them the area, and excuse myself to help Customer #1, who has been waiting patiently.)

Me: “Okay, so this one reduces wrinkles, this one has Vitamin E, and this one has B.”

Customer #1: “Oh, okay, I used this one at home. I want a change, so which would you suggest?”

Me: “Well yo—”

(Just then, Customer #2, a man in the large family, snaps his fingers at me, interrupting me.)

Customer #2: “Excuse me.”

Me: “Give me one second, and I’ll be right with you, sir.”

(Customer# 2 than snaps his fingers at me AGAIN. Customer# 1 looks visibly annoyed, and her face goes white.)

Me: “Sir, that is extremely rude. Please do not snap your fingers at me; I will be right with you as soon as I am finished.”

(Customer# 2 goes to open his mouth, when Customer# 1 snaps.)

Customer #1: “Don’t you even start with her! How dare you treat her like that! Can’t you see she’s working as hard as she can, with a big smile on her face? She’s so sweet, and she’s been nothing but nice to everybody, and trying to help everybody at once! So shut your mouth and wait!”

(Customer#2 is aghast; his jaw is hanging open. He grabs his family, and leaves with his tail tucked between his legs. I give Customer #1 a hug. She made my day!)

(I work in the guest services department of a major theme park. A Hispanic twenty-something mother and her young son approach the desk.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am, how can I help you?”

Mother: “Hello, I… no find… boy… hat.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Mother: “I no… look…”

(I switch to Spanish, which I can speak fairly well after four years studying it in high school.)

Me: *in Spanish* “Do you speak Spanish?”

Mother: “Oh, yes! Thank you so much! While my son and I were riding the roller coaster, he lost his hat and we came to see if you could send anyone to find it.”

Me: “I’m afraid we can’t send anyone to look under the roller coaster until after the park closes, but we can give you a gift certificate to buy a new hat for him at the shop.”

Mother: “That would be excellent! Thank you!”

(A burly-looking man, who is waiting for a park representative in the seating area, stands up and shouts at me.)

Man: “Hey! What the h*** do you think you’re doin’, boy?!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Man: “You talkin’ that [racial slur] language? The h***’s wrong with you? You just encouragin’ them—” *points at the mother and son* “—to come over here like they own this country!”

Me: “Well, sir, I speak English and Spanish. This lady seemed to be having trouble with her English, so I thought I’d try Spanish.”

(He walks over to the counter, and puts his face right in mine.)

Man: “That’s a bunch of bull-s***! They came to our country, so they gotta learn to talk our language! You just gonna let them win by speakin’ their language?!”

Me: “Uh… win what?”

Man: “Man, it’s because of f****** like you that they think they can just come in here and tell us what to do!”

(He gives the woman a dirty look, and she becomes very frightened. I push the silent security alert button under the counter. Suddenly the little boy moves, and stands in front of his mother.)

Son: “Quit bein’ mean to my mama, poop head!”

Man: “You gonna make me, you little [racial slur]?”

Son: “They will!”

(He points out the glass door, as two security officers approach.)

Security Guard #1: “I’m going to have to ask you to come with us, sir.”

Man: “For what?! Defending America?!”

Security Guard #2: “For threatening our other guests. If you don’t come peacefully, we will restrain you.”

(The man grits his teeth, and seems to be considering fighting the guards, but after a moment he gives up and goes with them.)

Me: “Adios!”

Man: “F*** you, f**!”

(I turn to the mother and son, and start speaking to them in Spanish again.)

Me: “I’m sorry about that man, ma’am. He won’t bother you again.”

Mother: “Thank you! I thought he was going to hit me.”

Son: “I won’t let him hurt you, mama!”

Me: “Young man, since you were so brave, I’m going to give you an extra gift certificate, so you can get a cartoon character doll, too.”

Son: “Wow! You’re so nice, mister!”

(I am visiting the Holocaust Museum. I am in a room full of framed pictures and digital displays, with picture slideshows of the war crime trials. There are some teenagers sitting around playing on their phones. An old couple are looking at the slideshows.)

Old Woman: “How do you get the pictures to stop moving?”

(She tries touching the screen.)

Old Man: “Here, let me try.”

(They both assume it is a touch-screen, and are pressing hard against it.The teenagers see this, and start laughing to each other.)

Teenager: “Look at these senile old people!”

(They begin filming the old couple, who are still trying to get the slideshow to stop. A tour guide has heard the noise, and comes over to see what is wrong.)

Guide: “Can I help you?”

Old Woman: “Yes, what button do we need to press to get the picture to stop?”

Guide: “You can’t stop them; it’s a looping slideshow. I think it’s only for two minutes, so you can just wait for it to repeat.”

Old Woman: “But those pictures change so fast!”

Guide: “Is there a reason you need to see all these pictures?”

Old Man: “Yes, I’m looking for the pictures of the bench.”

Guide: “Oh, well there are several photos just over here from the trials. Here’s one.”

(He directs them to the opposite wall to several pictures hidden among a few dozen others.)

Old Woman: “There you are!”

(She grows very excited, and points to the picture as though she had spotted something she had been looking for.)

Old Man: “Yep, got my American Flag pin on.”

(The old man reaches into his coat pocket, and shows the tour guide the pin. The teenagers have shut up by this point, and stopped filming. The tour guide then leads the old couple around the corner to show them more pictures of the trials. I walk up afterwards, and look at the picture. Seated at the bench were the Nazi war criminals that had caused so much death and destruction. Behind them are a line of American soldier guards. While most of the men have no medals or pins on, I spot the one soldier wearing an American flag pin over his heart. Don’t judge a book by its cover. That same man who had difficulty with a foreign device was entrusted to stand watch over some of the worst men of the twentieth century.)

(I’m a bank teller at a large national bank. A customer in her mid-twenties comes up to my till.)

Me: “Welcome to [bank name]! How can I help you today?”

Customer: “Yeah, can I find the total amount I owe for my student loans?”

Me: “Sure, what is your full name?”

(She gives me her name, and I give her the amount owed. It is a fairly large amount.)

Customer: “Perfect!”

(With a large smile, she hands me a cashier check from another bank, for the exact amount, totally paying off all loans she has with this bank. I enter the info, and print her receipt. I quickly run to the back to see my manager.)

Me: “Can I give this customer a couple of the promotional items that we usually give to people that open checking accounts?”

(My manager see the amount that she is paying, and that this means the customer has totally paid off the loans.)

Manager: “You can give her whatever you want!”

(I grab some items, and bring them back up to the till.)

Me: “Congratulations on paying off all your loans. Here’s your receipt, and a few gifts for paying off such a large loan amount.”

Customer: “Thank you very much! What I’m about to say has nothing to do with you; you are a great person, and thank you very much for the free gift. So, just go with everything I’m about to do.”

Me: “…Okay?”

(She holds up the receipt above her head, and speaks in a loud voice.)

Customer: “Ha! Six years ago I sold my soul to this bank! But after going through the nine circles of hell, I have finally gotten free of it! I now owe you nothing, zip, zero, nada! I am free; no more bills, payments, fees, nothing. I’M FREEEEEEE!”

(Even as she walks out the doors, she’s yelling and dancing. The dozen or so other customers and workers watch her the whole time. Another customer speaks loud enough so just about everyone can hear him.)

Customer #2: “Raise your hand if you wish you could do that.”

(Just about everyone else in the bank raises their hand.)

(My friend wants to sign up for a ‘Dance Dance Revolution’ contest, and drags me with her to the sign up table.)

Friend: “Sign me up!”

Registration: “What’s your name?”

(She gives registration her name and he puts her down on the chart. Then he turns to me.)

Registration: “And your name?”

Me: “Oh, no. I’m not playing, thanks.”

Registration: “Why not?”

Me: “Um… my boots are too heavy.”

(I show him the four-inch platform costume combat boots I have on. Upon seeing this, the guy working registration slowly pushes himself back from the table. He turns in his chair, so I can see his legs. One of his legs is a prosthetic, which he seems to have enforced with duct tape at the thigh.)

Registration: “I’m playing. What’s your excuse again?”

Me: “…sign me up.”