Back in February 2010, I was working for a small company. All of us were in the large open office when the owner made an announcement.

Owner: “This is my new PA, Marisol.”

Marisol was Latina. Everyone gave her a smile and a wave except for one coworker.

Coworker: “She’d make a great maid. I’ll bet she’d keep things spick and span.”

Owner: “[Coworker], you’re fired.”

Coworker: “What the f***?”

Owner: “Did I f****** stutter? Leave right the f*** now.”

Coworker: “Why? For telling the truth?”

Owner: “[Coworker], you have exactly ten seconds to get your a** out the door before I call the police. One… two… three…”

[Coworker] stormed off, kicking a wall en route and slamming the door behind him as the owner reached “nine”.

Owner: “Anyone else have any dumb remarks?”

There was silence from us all.

Owner: “Get to work. I’ll have a replacement for [Coworker] by the end of the week.”

The owner was as good as his word. He had a replacement for [Coworker] within two days — a Hispanic man who proved to be the hardest-working guy on our team.

Marisol proved to be an incredibly organized, efficient PA for the rest of my tenure there before I got hired away by a larger company in 2015.

We’ve just gotten the concert movie “Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour”, and the studio sent us a ton of merch to sell. It’s been fun seeing all the fans — especially little kids — buying the buckets, cups, and bags we’re selling.

On the opening night, during a slow period between shows, a guy wanders in and walks up to the counter.

Customer: *Gesturing to a display case. “How much of that Taylor Swift stuff do you have?”

Me: “I think we still have about 250 pieces left between the cups, buckets, and totes.”

Customer: “How much is it?”

Me: “They all cost between $10 and $20.”

Customer: *Doing math in his head* “So, a couple grand worth. Makes sense.”

He wanders away and plays around on his phone for a minute, and then he comes back.

Customer: “I’ll take all the Taylor Swift merch.”

Me: “Uh, sorry, but I can’t do that.”

Customer: “No, you don’t understand… I can pay for it. Do you see this?”

He holds up his phone and shows me that people are selling the merch second-hand online for ridiculous markups.

Customer: “I could easily make fifteen grand or more! So sell it to me!”

Me: “No, sorry. First, you have to have a ticket for the show to buy the merchandise. Do you have a ticket?”

Customer: “No?”

Me: “Okay, so you can’t. And second of all, we set limits per ticket specifically to stop scalpers like you from buying it all up, so fans can have a fair chance of getting things.”

Customer: “That’s stupid. I’m giving you a chance to sell everything! I’m making you primo moolah! You won’t get another chance like this!”

Me: “It’s not up to me, and I guarantee we’ll have no problem selling this, anyway.”

He continues trying to argue for several minutes before wandering away.

Customer: “F****** [slur for mentally disabled people]! You just lost a big sale and lost me thousands of dollars! Have fun not selling this s***!”

We sold out of the remaining merchandise the following morning and have already gotten dozens of phone calls from people asking when we’ll be restocked. So much for “not selling” it. I just love watching scalpers fail.

Before my sister was born, my parents found a kitten. They decided to keep it because they could find no owner. They named her Princess. My sister is four years older than I am, so we both grew up with this cat. She’d sometimes follow us and watch over us. My parents used to make jokes about how she thought of us as her kittens.

Now, my sister wasn’t very nice to me. It took a lot of people a lot of time to realise she wasn’t just nasty; it was full-on abuse and bullying.

When I was too young to understand what was happening, I used to talk to Princess. She was like my version of a diary; I’d sit with this creature that was older than I was and tell her all my problems.

One day at a store, my mum told us she’d buy us each a lolly. My sister wanted a different one than I did, and she grabbed my arm and clawed her nails down it so hard it drew blood. It hurt a lot, and I was really upset. When we got home, I went and cried to Princess about how scared I’d felt. After a while, I calmed down and went and played with my toys. Princess ambled out of the room.

A few minutes later, I heard a shriek, and Princess ambled back in. It turned out that she’d walked up and scratched my sister’s hand and then hissed at her before coming back to sit with me and watch over me playing with my toys.

My parents assume that my sister provoked her, but I know. She walked out of the room right after I’d been talking to her, and she walked in right after the shriek. I can’t prove it, but I think Princess saw how scared I was and showed me that she’d protect me.

I’ve never told anybody about my white and grey guardian apart from my current cat. I haven’t thought about Princess in a while. She lived to be around twenty, depending on how old she was when my parents got her. I loved that cat. Funnily enough, my new cat was originally my sister’s. She got him and then left him with my parents, and he slowly became mine. He likes to sit with me more than he likes her.

I’m old enough to remember when flying was an enjoyable adventure: breezing through “security”, lots of time for browsing in the shops, and eating a gratis meal of “rubber chicken” on the plane accompanied by those little bottles of wine, also gratis. (Admittedly, I would often slosh my way to my vacation locale, or home.) Now, flying causes me anxiety, and I’m stressed until I reach my destination airport.

On my way to Vegas, I was in a gift shop with my husband. I saw an unaccompanied girl, about ten, carry a pack of candy to the cashier.

Girl: *Very politely* “Excuse me? How much is this?”

Cashier: “That is [price].”

Girl: “Thank you. I will have to pick something else.”

Me: “I’ll buy you the candy.”

She looked at me with VERY big eyes.

Girl: “Really?”

Me: “Yes.” 

I took a moment to try to explain “paying it forward” to her. She thanked me and left. She was clearly happy and very surprised that someone would pay for her candy.

Cashier: “I’ve heard about paying it forward, but I’ve never seen it happen. You are awesome!”

My husband piped up:

Husband: “He’s not awesome. He hates flying and is trying to buy good Karma. He’s actually quite selfish.”

S’truth: nobody knows you better than your spouse.

I work in a small-town restaurant. I absolutely love my job, and the majority of my customers are great. I am one of two night-shift servers, and they have both of us working tonight. I have been here for two hours without a table, and I am metaphorically beating my head on the wall because I am so bored.

I see this couple pull up, and I get so excited to finally have a table. This old married couple comes in, and they seem sweet. I start walking them to their table, and the lady stops.

Lady: “Is your cafeteria buffet line open?”

We have a lunch buffet that runs through the day but closes at night.

Me: “We don’t do the buffet at night, ma’am.”

Lady: *Starting to get upset* “So, what? You don’t do the buffet anymore?”

Me: *As nicely as I can* “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we close it at 3:00.”

Lady: *Barking back* “Well, what time does it open?”

Me: “Eleven in the morning.”

Lady: “And what time is it now?”

She asks this as if she just won an argument. I tell her the time; it is almost 5:00, so the buffet has been closed for a good two hours now. She keeps trying to argue and gets super mad until her husband gets her to sit down.

Lady: “Well, where’s all the food, then?”

Me: “Even though the buffet line is closed, we can still do all of the same food. It’s just made in the kitchen, and I will bring it to you.”

She grabs her menu and huffs. I grab my order book.

Me: “Can I go ahead and—”

Lady: *Cutting me off* “I am not going to order anything from you if you keep standing there.”

Mind, I am standing opposite her and not near the table. I feel myself get red in the face, and I finish, trying my best to keep my composure.

Me: “Can I go ahead and grab y’all something to drink?”

Lady: “Well, I haven’t even gotten a chance to look at the menu, so no, you can’t. Leave us alone.”

I am already having a rough night (I just got kicked out, and I am couch-surfing while trying to find a place, so it’s been rough), and I feel the floodgates open.

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you will not be rude to me.”

Her mouth falls open and she starts stammering.

Lady: “I… I wasn’t being rude!”

Me: “I am sorry, but you will not be rude to me. I will give y’all a minute to look over the menu.”

I then very quickly left and went to find the owner of the restaurant. I told him the situation. He was upset; he said I shouldn’t be treated like that and switched the server. I sat to wait for the next people to come in and saw the other server also struggling with these customers.

Finally, I guess the couple got too annoyed and left. I will say I’ve dealt with some terrible people while in the service industry, but this was by far the worst I’ve ever been treated.