(My older sister and I both work at a resort. I work in the restaurant, while she edits pamphlets, menus and brochures. One of the other coworkers in the restaurant has written up a nutrition brochure but gets it back with a lot of corrections because her grammar and spelling are awful. She comes and waves her edited pamphlet in my face.)

Coworker: “That stupid b**** who edits this s*** thinks she’s so f****** smart, doesn’t she?”

Me: “Well, actually… she is really smart.”

Coworker: “Well, how do you know?”

Me: “She’s my sister.”

Coworker: “Tell your sister that I’m not a [slur for disabled people] and she can’t make all these edits!” *throws the pamphlet at me*

Me: “Well, first of all, my sister’s an English major. Second…” *points at the corrections* “…she’s right. The things she marked as needing to be corrected are wrong.”

Coworker: “F*** you!”

(My coworker spots a manager and stomps up to them.)

Coworker: “Tell the b**** who made these corrections that we aren’t making any changes to my pamphlet!”

Manager: *looks over the corrections* “No.”

Coworker: “Why the h*** not?!”

Manager: “Because we want the pamphlets to sound like they were written by an educated person.”

Coworker: “I quit!”

(Thankfully, my sister now prepares the pamphlets and brochures… properly edited, of course.)

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Me: “…Okay, well, if you need anything else, you can call us back. Would you like the number?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay. Are you ready?”

Caller: “Yes.”

Me: “Wonderful. It’s 1—”

Caller: “What’s the number?”

Me: “It’s 1-8—”

Caller: “What’s the number?”

Me: “It’s 1—”

Caller: “1, yes, you said that! Hello?! What is the rest?! What is with this service?!”

(A regular customer has come into our pet shop with her pet hamster in a carry box. Apparently, she is on his way to put her hamster to sleep as he is very ill. She has dropped in to buy him a last treat for the journey. As she makes her way to me to pay, another customer stops her to look in the box. This other customer is a woman in her thirties with a baby in a stroller.)

Customer: “Oh, you have a hamster. How cute! Can I pet it?”

Regular: “Um, I’m sorry, but he’s not well. I’d rather not take him out.”

Customer: “What’s wrong with him? Surely a wee pat isn’t going to hurt him?”

Regular: “He has a tumor in his tummy, and it’s started to cause him discomfort. We’re on our way to the vet.”

Customer: “Aww, the poor thing! Please let me show my friend. She’s in the shop and she loves hamsters!”

(Suddenly, the customer tries to take the carry box from my regular, alarming her. I quickly make my way over to them.)

Regular: “Excuse me, but this is my hamster! He’s old and sore, and I’m taking him to be put to sleep. The last thing he needs is for a stranger to manhandle him!”

Customer: “If you’re going to have him killed anyway, you should let my friend see him first! She loves hamsters!”

(At this heartless statement, my regular begins to cry. I decide to take a risk and teach the woman a lesson. I take hold of the customer’s stroller handles.)

Me: *to the customer* “My coworker just LOVES babies. Can I take yours away to see her?”

Customer: “Excuse me?! Leave that alone! What gives you the right?!”

Me: “But I want my co-worker to see your baby.”

Customer: “I don’t care! That’s my child, and you’ve no right to touch my buggy. I don’t even know you! Why don’t—”

(Suddenly, a wave of realisation hits the customer and she stops mid-sentence. She then swears at me, takes the stroller back and storms off, all the while refusing eye-contact with my regular, who is still crying. I had to get my manager to tell her what happened. Although I technically had to be written up, my manager was sympathetic and the poor regular got the treats for free.)

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(I work in a fairly small city where there are a lot of factories, a few of which hire a lot of immigrant workers. A customer from Senegal has just gotten his beverage and gone.)

Coworker: “I don’t know how you could take his order. I couldn’t understand a word he said!”

Me: “Oh, his accent wasn’t that thick.”

Coworker: “And if they’re going to be in this country, they should speak English all the time. I mean, how do they even learn that foreign language anyway?!”

Me: “I’m pretty sure the same way we learn English: they’re raised with it.”

Coworker: “Well, you know what I mean!”

(I’m pregnant, and am chatting to my young daughter.)

Daughter: “I’m so happy that you and daddy didn’t have to have the sex to make the baby!”

Me: “Uhm… what makes you think that?”

Daughter: “You said it was a surprise!”