(After an accident, my best friend was critically wounded on the left side of his face, losing his eye and scarring him. While his scars are slowly healing, he wears an eyepatch and bandages on his face both to help healing and because the scars are VERY ugly. This happens when we grab a bite at a popular chain of restaurants.)

Me: “Hello, we would like a tab—”

Waiter: “No.”

Me: “What?”

Waiter: “You didn’t read the sign? ‘No face-covering clothing or headgear.’ I won’t serve you as long as your boyfriend keeps his mask.”

My Friend: “First, I ain’t his boyfriend. Second, that’s not a mask, but REAL bandages.”

Waiter: “No exceptions. You drop your Halloween getup or you walk out.”

My Friend: “Okay, dude, get me a manager before it gets ugly.”

(My friends has to insist for a while, but the waiter finally caves in and brings a manager with him. The manager looks bored as hell while the waiter is smiling smugly.)

Manager: “Sir, my employee just warned me about your behavior. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

My Friend: “For what? Because I don’t want to show my wounds to everybody?”

Manager: “Unless you have a medical document that proves you have a disability, you can’t keep those.”

My Friend: “I’m not disabled. I’m just WOUNDED!”

Manager: “No proof, no exceptions. Now leave.”

Me: “Let’s just—”

My Friend: *suddenly grinning* “Well, if you REALLY want proof…”

(My friend turns around for a while, then swiftly turns towards them, giving everybody in sight a VERY detailed view of his burns, cuts and, worse of it, his eye wound. The manager turns pale, then falls flat on her back while the waiter literally runs away screaming. In the end, the restaurant owner came down, witnessed my friend’s wounds… and threatened to call the police because we were causing a disturbance. We left, but not before getting their names and writing quite a letter to corporate, including several documents from my friend’s doctors about his state. We received a letter of apologies, several coupons and the promise that those people were “dealt with”.)

(I’m in a dressing room when I overhear a mother a few rooms down having this conversation with her two children she has brought in with her. She’s adding up aloud how much her items will cost.)

Mom: $57…$64…”

Child #1: “Uh-oh, Mommy! Daddy said your limit was 50 dollars! That is more than 50 dollars!”

Child #2: “Yeah, Daddy said you can’t spend any more than $50!”

Mom: “Well, you know what?! Since Daddy gets to go to work everyday and I’m stuck with you two, I can spend however much I want! So, you can tell Daddy that he can kiss Mommy’s fat a**! How about that?!”

Child #2: *giggles* “I can’t wait to tell Daddy that! You’re so funny, Mommy!”

(I work at a call center for a company that sells phone, internet, and TV services. I work in Billing and Ordering. On this particular day, I receive a call from Tech Support. Note: Tech is often pawning their job on us, as sending a technician out hurts their stats.)

Me: “Thank you for calling [company]; how can I help you today?”

Tech: “Hi, I’m on the other line with a customer. Basically, his service hasn’t been working for weeks. We’ve sent out technicians so many times that they’re refusing to go to his location anymore. I need you to send out a new install technician.”

Me: “I don’t have the power to do that. I can send out a technician if the customer needs a new jack or outlet, but I don’t have power to send out a new install tech.”

Tech: “Yes you do. You need to disconnect this customer’s service and set up a new account so he can get someone out there.”

Me: “Sending a technician out is your job, but let me see what I can do…”

(At this point, I put the tech on hold and talk to my manager, as the situation sounds suspicious.)

Me: “Okay, sir, I talked to my manager and he informed me that it’s illegal to disconnect and reconnect services like that. He also informed me that a technician can’t just refuse to go to a customer’s location.”

Tech: “Let me speak to your manager, because it’s not going to be that easy!”

Me: “Give me one moment…”

(My manager is already prepared to take the call.)

Manager: “Sir, I can not… no, WILL NOT allow someone in my department to commit sales fraud. We will not sell a customer a service they already have. That’s illegal and could get the company in a lot of trouble. Do your job and stop trying to get MY reps fired!”

(My manager then escalated the call to the tech manager, who fired the tech on the spot!)

(The customer service desk at the small store I work at is not manned at all times. It’s pretty much just where we store lotto and cigarettes. Most customers realize pretty quickly that they can go to any till to get service. This time I have seen a lady standing there, saying nothing for ten minutes.)

Me: “Can I help you with anything, ma’am?”

Customer: “I need to talk to someone in customer service.”

Me: “I’m sorry, we don’t have anyone just in customer service, but I can help you with anything you need.”

Customer: “No! I must speak to someone in customer service.”

Me: “Unfortunately, that’s not possible. This is a small store, so we all work at the customer service desk.”

Customer: “I’m not leaving until I speak to someone from customer service.”

(I go to the back, take my glasses off, put on a hat, and go back, this time behind the desk.)

Me: “Can I help you, ma’am?”

Customer: “Yes, finally! One of your stupid supervisors was saying that–”

(She sees my nametag, stops, turns red, and leaves.)

(I am doing work experience for a year between school and university, at a historic castle-turned-museum. Since I travel there by bus, I’m usually 15 minutes early with nobody there to unlock the offices. I spend my time sitting in the gardens or waiting hall. I always greet the cleaning crew working around me and sometimes chat with them. When winter hits, they invite me to their break room so I don’t freeze to death waiting for the museum workers.)

Cleaning Lady #1: “You know, we’ve never had one of you work experience kids up here.”

Me: “Oh? Is it not allowed?”

Cleaning Lady #1: “Nah, they were all so stuck-up. Wouldn’t even talk to us. Right out of school, no job experience at all, but they already didn’t care for us cleaners.”

Cleaning Lady #2: “There was a really bad one, too; she was so rude, even to the craftsmen working in the museum. Only sucked up to the director and curators.”

Me: “You’d think that work experience kids would realise they’re sort of the lowest rung of the ladder?”

Cleaning Lady #1: “You’d think, but no.”

(A few weeks later, one of the curators tasks me with sorting through and cleaning up an area of the archive that hasn’t been properly taken care of for years. I ask the cleaning ladies for supplies, but they actually end up helping me clean while I sort the papers.)

Curator: “You’re already done? I thought this would take you a week, at least.”

Me: “Oh, Mrs. [Cleaning Lady #1] and Mrs. [Cleaning Lady #2] helped me a bit.”

Curator: “Who?”

Me: “The cleaning crew?”

(During the course of the year, I learned that most of the “higher” workers didn’t even know the names of the cleaners. Even the craftsmen didn’t interact with them much, despite sharing a locker room with them.)

Craftsman #1: “How did you get all this stuff transported here so fast?”

Me: “You know the shortcut through the back hall, with almost no lamps? Turns out the smallest trolley fits through there.”

Craftsman #2: “How did you even know about the back hall? Nobody goes through there.”

Me: “The cleaning crew does.”

(At the end of my work experience, the cleaning crew had helped me out more times than anyone else, and taught me many tricks that made my job a lot easier. When I left, I got a friendly card and a small brooch from the museum. The cleaning crew got me a personalised gift, instead. My first work experience taught me that simply being friendly and polite towards “lower” workers can make a big difference.)

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