I’m the author of this story.

Back in the long, long ago — that is, the ancient times of 2013 to 2014 or so — I work at a student-run bar, one of the many centuries-old student-run clubs in the town. They are run in accordance with the strict Swedish alcohol laws, where over-serving someone is technically a jailable offence for the bartender (though that rarely happens). The bartender is also always right, so if I say someone has had enough, they have.

It is a big club night, the last one before the end of the semester. The drinks are quite cheap (by Swedish standards), and a lot of people are a bit desperate.

A sleazy guy with an open shirt and a not-very-comfortable lady come to the bar.

Guy: “Two [cheap cider]s!”

Me: “Right-o.” *Uncorks and serves them* “That will be 58 kronor.” *About $6*

Guy: *Handing me a 500-kronor (50-dollar) note* “Keep the change!”

He is obviously trying to impress the lady, who seems unimpressed.

Me: *Incredulously* “Are you tipping me 442 kronor?”

Guy: “Yeah. It’s yours! I study economics! I’m gonna be really rich!”

The lady remains unimpressed.

Guy: “In fact, I am, like, top of my class and, like, really smart!”

Me: “Oh? I’ve heard that economics is simple.”

Guy: *Removing his arm from around the woman* “Yeah, it’s simple for someone like me!”

He starts a rambling story about how you can use “economics” to make money by tricking people into giving it to you. The woman looks even less impressed and slinks away while he talks (giving me a thankful glance), and he finds that he is alone after a few minutes. I keep serving other customers meanwhile, and he pays little attention to me. 

Guy: “Hey, where did the little slut go?” 

Me: “I think she went that way.”

I point in the opposite direction, and he runs off. I keep working for a few hectic hours, and then the guy returns, fuming but pretending to be polite. 

Guy: “Yeah, so, do you remember me?” 

Me: “Sorry, not really.”

Guy: “Yeah, I tipped you a, a, a lot. Like loads. I had a super hot slut with me. She disappeared, and you probably helped her get away so you could get the slut yourself!” 

Me: “Please don’t call women that.” 

Guy: “Whatever. I want my tip back.” 

Me: “Sorry?”

Guy: “I gave you 500 kronor, and I bought, like, just a cider.”

Me: “I remember you now. I asked if it was a tip and you said yes. So, no.”

Guy: “No, see, I need that money now.”

Me: “That’s not gonna happen.”

Guy: “No, but, I can’t tip that much! I gave you my bus money home. I’m, like, broke.” 

Me: “Sorry. You could probably walk, though.” 

Guy: “DO I LOOK LIKE A F****** [slur for Roma people]? Give me my money!”

He drunkenly fails to climb over the bar. I flag down a passing security guard.

Me: “No. You are to leave, now.”

The guard intervened and the guy was dragged away. I was told that he disappeared right into the back of a drunk-cell with some hefty fines after he decided to call the non-European-descended guard every slur in existence.

Related:
Putting The “Toxic” Into “Intoxicated”, Part 2

When I taught computer programming years ago, I had an assignment involving calculating interest on a bank loan. A student came to complain about the assignment.

Student: “This assignment wasn’t fair. It was about loans and interest. I’m only nineteen. How should I know about loans and interest?”

I wasn’t at all short of things to say to him. At eighteen, people can legally take out loans, get credit cards, etc. I suppose I could have roasted him to his face, but that’s not my style. But to some extent, I began to see how the twenty-first century has infantilized adults.

Me: “You’re over eighteen. This is something you should know. I’m not sure what else to tell you.”

I wish this story had a happier ending, but Not Always Right does have a series of “This Is Why We’re In A Recession” stories, and it’s at part 113 as of this submission.

Related:
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 114
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 113
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 112
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 111
This Is Why We’re In A Recession, Part 110

I work at a place near my campus that takes all of the surplus materials from the university (office chairs, desks, tables, etc.) and sells them to the public on Thursdays. Because it’s a university, the stuff we get is always different.

At one point, we have two large water distillers with reservoirs (lab-grade equipment, really nice) and we price them at about $2,500 each, which apparently is a pretty low price for these things.

A guy comes in and just starts making a pile of all the stuff he’s going to buy (this is pretty common), and the distillers are included in this. He’s about to go up and pay for them.

Customer: “Oh, wow, I didn’t realize they would be that much.”

Me: “Oh, did the price stickers fall off?”

Customer: “Oh, I see them now. I just don’t look at the price of things until after I buy them.”

Me: “That… must be nice?”

I’m teaching one section of a senior seminar course required for our program. The class has a final paper and a final portfolio, both due during finals. Otherwise, the course is about interview skills and lots of discussion — fairly low-key for stressed-out seniors. The students also need to fill out a survey about the specific courses they take toward their degree, which is posted online and available for the last week of classes.

Toward the end of the week, I notice that only about half the class has submitted the survey. It’s not worth any points in the class, but we do want the information to try to improve our program.

I post on our course site:

Me: “Please remember to fill out the survey! This will be useful information for the department. You’ll need to submit the survey in order to view your final project grade. Remember, the due date for the final project is [date #1] and for the final paper is [date #2].”

The final paper and project due dates come and go. A small number of students only submit one or the other. They’re stressed-out seniors, so it’s not surprising.

Then, a week after I submit the final grades, I hear from a student who is upset they received a zero on the final project. I tell them that’s because I never received their final project.

Student: “But I submitted the survey! You said we just had to submit the survey to get a grade on the final project!”

Me: “You have to submit a final project to get graded on it. Submitting the survey allows you to see what the grade was. It’s not a substitute for doing the assignment.”

In a university business law class, we’re organized into groups of four for class presentations. One woman in my group takes an immediate dislike to me. She treats the other members normally and they treat me normally, and I have no idea why I’ve earned her ire. Perhaps because law isn’t my major?

We agree to meet in the school library later on to plan our presentation. I tell the group ahead of time that I will not be available on a certain date, as I’ll be working all day on a time-sensitive project for my major. We all set a date.

Except… the meetup time is suddenly changed, by [Woman], to another time, mere hours before the original time. That’s not enough time for some people to change their day around, especially students with days full of three-hour classes. While the others can make it, I can’t.

This pattern repeats itself several times, each time with far too little notice for me to be able to attend. I haven’t been able to contribute much to the presentation. With the deadline approaching, we all plan to meet one more time. [Woman], naturally, insists it takes place on the date I’d warned them about. I, naturally, refuse.

The next thing I hear from her is an email, addressed to the professor and the other members, blasting me for being uncooperative and not contributing anything to the presentation. She recommends to the professor that I get no marks for the project. I simply respond to all with my side of the story. The presentation date arrives. Despite my minimal contributions to it, I get the same marks as everyone else.

Our next project is a mock trial of an example case where a customer was injured. I realize I could make a quick stop-motion recreation of the event with some toys I have to add a visual component to our argument. I say I’ll do it in addition to my regular contribution, and the group can review and veto the video if they don’t like it. [Woman] thinks it’s a terrible, childish idea, while the other group members think it’s a great idea.

[Woman] doesn’t pull her rescheduling shenanigans this time around, so I’m able to contribute more proportionally to the project’s text content. I’m also able to complete my video. It’s crude, but it’s effective. I show it to the group before our turn in “court”, and opinions haven’t changed: the three of us love it while [Woman] thinks it’s the worst idea in the world. We use it in our trial.

I can’t remember if we won our case, but I will always remember the look of anger on [Woman]’s face as we got our marks for it. The professor gave the group extra points for the video. He loved the creativity of it, as none of the other groups had included any sort of recreation for their cases.