(My uncle owns a chain of bike shops. We’re having a meal with my grandparents, and have gathered at the shop waiting for my cousin to finish his shift. An obnoxious customer is giving him trouble.)

Customer: “You are useless! Do you even know anything about bikes?”

Cousin: “When I’m not here, I race them.”

Customer: “Don’t take that tone with me!”

Cousin: “I wasn’t trying to take any tone—”

Customer: “Do you know who I am?! I’m the owner’s brother, and I will have you fired!”

(I am unable to contain myself, and turn to my brother.)

Me: “Did you hear that, bro? We’ve got another uncle!”

Customer: “…What?”

(The customer turns to see the crowd of us waiting.)

Dad: “I have another brother?”

Granddad: *to my grandmother* “Was this while I was away at sea? How could you?”

Grandmother: “All the jokes about a child in every port, and you were hiding THIS?”

Customer: “I… er…”

Uncle: “Well you don’t need to ring me; I’m here already! What has my son done this time?”

(The customer runs out. My dad starts shouting after him in a bad Italian accent.)

Dad: “You don’t a messa with the family!”

Grandmother: *to my granddad* “Well that one’s definitely yours.”

(I work in a Cyber Cafe, where the workers are allowed to use their laptops when they are on break. I am notorious around the store to both the customers and my coworkers, because I prefer to use a Mac rather than another type of computer. One customer comes in holding her Mac laptop and a USB.)

Customer: “Hey, you’re good with Macs, right?”

Me: “I like to think so, why?”

Customer: “I just recently got a Mac, and I’m transferring data over with a USB drive. This one doesn’t appear to be working.”

Me: “How so?”

Customer: “I plugged in this USB into the laptop, but it doesn’t recognize it.”

Me: “That seems odd; let me try another USB.”

(I try a spare USB lying around the workplace.)

Me: “This one works fine; let me see your USB for a moment.”

(The customer hands me her USB.)

Customer: “It’s probably the stupid laptop. Now I see why everyone hates Macs. It’s a stupid brand of computer, for stupid people.”

(The customer glares at me. I ignore it and flip over the USB, reading the bottom.)

Me: “Ma’am?”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “This isn’t a USB.”

Customer: “Uh…”

Me: “It’s a Bluetooth transceiver.”

(The customer freezes, snatches the transceiver, and runs out of the cafe with her laptop.)

(I’m attempting to pull a heavy hand cart that happens to have a broken wheel. I also have a very rude impatient customer behind me.)

Customer: “Oh, come on! Is that as fast as you can pull that thing?”

(I pay little attention to the customer, and I continue to struggle with the truck.)

Customer: “When did this place start hiring wimpy, weak-a** boys to do this sort of work!?”

(I continue to ignore the customer as I turn into the aisle I’m assigned to work in. As my luck should have it, the customer is also headed there.)

Customer: “Figures, it’s a long-haired pretty-boy. Go work at a clothing store you f**! You obviously can’t handle this job.”

(I turn to face the woman, who almost immediately goes pale at my appearance.)

Me: “Ma’am, I apologize for moving so slow, but this cart has a broken wheel. I was going about as fast as I could. And as you can see from my name tag, I am not a ‘long-haired pretty-boy’; I’m a young woman.”

Customer: “Young women shouldn’t work here either!”

(She hurries off, without getting what she needs from my aisle. That was the first time in six and a half years that a woman told me I shouldn’t be doing my job.)