My best friend sells handmade crafts and accessories at conventions and craft shows. At this event, an elderly woman with an accent comes to the booth and is very excited about the scarves my best friend and I made.

Woman: “I am always so cold! I wear a coat in the summer and people ask me, ‘Are you cold?’ And I say, ‘NO, I am making a FASHION STATEMENT!'”

That little old lady with no knowledge of sci-fi bought a flannel fandom-inspired scarf and made my day!

We usually only have a manager and two sellers. One of those sellers is also designated cashier.

I’m the cashier this morning, and we aren’t very busy. Suddenly, I have a small line of about four people, the other seller has to help someone in the fitting room, and my manager has to go to the back to accept shipment. There is no one to cover the floor and definitely no one to help me ring up.

I’m ringing out [Customer #1]’s decently-sized purchase and [Customer #2] right behind her starts sighing loudly and sucking her teeth.

[Customer #2] then comes up to the counter next to [Customer #1] and slams her stuff down.

Customer #2: “Isn’t there anyone else who can ring?”

Me: “Actually, no. Unfortunately, I’m the only one available as my coworker is assisting a customer in the fitting room and my manager had to go to the back to accept shipment. We’re not busy on Thursday mornings, as you can see, so we normally only have three people working. But thank you so much for being patient; I really appreciate it.”

[Customer #2] looked shocked and said a small, “Oh,” right as I finished up with [Customer #1].

I was expecting [Customer #2] to continue to be rude, because that’s how it usually goes, but she actually apologized and said she hurt her back at the gym, so standing there for so long — she was in line for maybe two minutes, max — was hurting. Either way, it was nice to have a customer actually apologize for their behavior.

Related:
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 13
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 12
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 11
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 10
In Line And Out Of Line, Part 9

A Yeoman in the navy is a person that performs office duties, whether a man or a woman. During the 1980s, most offices used IBM Selectric type typewriters; they use a font ball to type letters, and if you want to change font, you change the font ball.

I am sitting in the ship’s office one day with a couple of others waiting to go over our annual evaluations with my division officer. There are two yeomen working in the office typing reports. One is male and the other female.

Male Yeoman: *To the other yeoman* “Do you have an OCR font ball?”

Female Yeoman: “No, I think we have just the two balls between us.”

This happens during my first week on the job as a food runner for [Restaurant]. I’ve just delivered some meals to a table in the bar and am checking if they want anything else. I feel someone poke me, hard, in the ribs. I yelp in pain and shock, spinning around to see a couple on the next table over. The man starts loudly complaining at me, oblivious to my startled scream.

Customer: “My food is cold!”

He holds the plate out to me. It’s a partially-eaten gammon steak, with a couple of wet mouthfuls of chewed food piled next to it. Other people’s saliva deeply grosses me out, and I can’t help but flinch away from the plate. He shoves it closer and all but yells in my face.

Customer: “Touch it! Feel how cold this food is!”

I am pointedly ignoring his request while trying to recover my composure.

Me: “I‘m so sorry that’s happened! Here, let me take that. Would you like me to get the chefs to make you a fresh one?”

Customer: *Accusingly* “You don’t believe me, do you?! I’m not making this up!”

Me: *Desperately* “I do believe you, I promise, can I just—”

I moved to take the plate from him, and he GRABBED MY WRIST and forcibly smooshed my hand into the chewed food. I don’t remember anything about whether it was actually cold or not; it took all the concentration I had to not throw up in my mouth.

Related:
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 21
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 20
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 19
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 18
On The Need For Hazard Pay, Part 17

The city puts a notice sign up on my street announcing that they’ll be doing road work tomorrow, and the street will be closed to all but local traffic from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm. I make sure to leave my house by 7:30 am.

Fast forward to 6:00 pm. I’m driving home from work when I see city trucks blocking half the entrance to my street, and approximately ten workers standing around talking. I can see the notice sign peeking out from behind the truck. There aren’t any barriers blocking the street, so I hit my turn signal. One of the workers runs toward my car and motions for me to stop. I stop and roll down my window.

Me: “Yes?”

Worker: “You can’t go down there.”

Me: “I live here. I can show you my ID.”

He shakes his head.

Worker: “You can’t go.”

Me: “Your sign says, ‘Local traffic only.’ I am local traffic. I live about 500 feet away. Literally, right there.”

I point to my house.

Worker: “We’re not done.”

Me: “All I see is a completely unchanged road and ten guys standing around doing nothing.”

Worker: “We’ll be done in about two hours. Come back then.”

Me: “Two hours?! Listen, I left my house at 7:30 this morning because your stupid sign said, ‘Local traffic only from 8:00 am to 4:00 pm.’ I am local traffic, and my clock says it’s 6:00. Go check your sign. It’s right behind your truck. Conveniently moved out of sight, of course.”

The worker opens his mouth and then closes it.

Me: “Go check. I’ll wait. I’ve got a full tank of gas.” 

I put the car in park and fold my arms. He goes to check the sign, sighs, and comes back. Without a word, he moves aside and waves me through.

Me: “That’s what I thought.”

For those who are curious, there wasn’t another way into the neighborhood — one way in, one way out. The next day, there was a sign up with altered hours of 10:00 am to 7:00 pm, but then they showed up at 8:00 am. Thankfully, I had the day off!