(We sell console games in addition to groceries in a more-or-less rough part of town, and our policy is unopened games can be returned with a receipt within 14 days from purchase.)

Customer: “I’d like to return this game.”

Me: *checks seal on game* “Seal is in check, so I just need your receipt.”

Customer: “I’ve got no receipt. But I just want to exchange this for some groceries now.”

Me: “Sorry. Without a receipt I have to get authorization on these big ticket items from a manager.”

Customer: “It’s only a game. It’s not even that big.”

Me: “No, but the price tag is. It comes to almost $90, so I need a manager authorization.”

(My manager and I check the UPC in our system, and he sees that we received six copies of the game, and there is six on the shelf right now, and the system shows no sales since it arrived.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but that game wasn’t bought at this store. Perhaps it was a different store you bought it at?”

Customer: “No, it was right here. I bet you it was the cashier just took my money and put it in her pocket when I left. Didn’t even scan it.”

Me: “Did you get a receipt?”

Customer: “Yeah, but I lost it.”

Me: “If you got a receipt, the cashier couldn’t have stolen your money. We received in six copies of this game, and there is six in our case. And we haven’t sold any at this location since it arrived.”

Customer: “Well, I don’t want my money back. I just want groceries.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but without a receipt showing purchase from this location, I cannot give you any sort of refund or exchange.”

Customer: “I’ll be back later to get a refund on this, then. Bunch a thieves.”

Manager: *to me after he leaves* “What was the game called he was trying to get off with?”

Me: “You’ll get a kick out of this: ‘Thief.’“

(I am shopping for groceries one afternoon. I am 26 but look about 16, as I have always looked very young for my age. I am eight months pregnant with my first child. I am married but, due to swelling from pregnancy, I can’t wear my wedding ring, so I look 16, unwed, and pregnant. You can imagine. I am browsing the aisles when I overhear a mother tell her young daughter as they’re passing me.)

Mother: *points to me* “That right there is why you keep your legs closed.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Mother: “I was just telling my daughter she shouldn’t mess with boys because she will end up just like you. I mean, what kind of life can you provide for that baby? Are you still in school or did you drop out? Do you know the father?”

Me: “I will have you know that I am 26 years old, have graduated college, been married to the father of this baby for five years, and have a nice job at an accounting firm. My husband and I also planned to have this baby!”

Mother: “Well… *scoffs* “…you just look so young!”

Me: “Maybe you should teach your daughter to not be so judgmental of others and worry about your own parenting a little more!”

(I started wearing my wedding ring on a chain around my neck after that!)

(I have an intense hatred of being touched in certain places, such as my inner elbows and my wrists, with my neck and collarbones being the worst. Just being touched on my neck can cause me to have a panic attack, but this is usually not a problem, as I am careful to explain to anyone likely to get that close to me what my boundaries are. My boyfriend is completely understanding of this, and very aware of my limits. This takes place while we’re shopping one day, and I feel a hand on the back of my neck. I immediately freak out, and go to pieces, while turning to see a man standing behind me, looking pleased with himself.)

Man: “Your tag was sticking out.”

Boyfriend: “What?” *realizes I’m having a panic attack* “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Man: “The tag was sticking out of her shirt, but I got it.”

Boyfriend: “Can you give her some space? She needs to see you aren’t a threat so she can calm down.”

Man: “Is she seriously not even going to thank me?”

Boyfriend: “Take a step back. She hates being touched on her neck.”

Man: *getting angry* “Stupid b***, are you really going to say nothing? I was doing you a favour. I can’t believe you’re being so rude.”

(My boyfriend eventually calmed me down, and we moved away from the man, who continued to insist I owed him a ‘thank you.’)

(I’m watching my roommate’s ten-year-old son, who’s visiting while she’s at work. I wind up texting her this later.)

Me: “So, your son lost a tooth. And I discovered he’s ticklish.”

Roommate: “Those two things are related aren’t they?”

Me: “…maybe.”

Teacher: “Has anyone been to Central Australia?”

(Silence.)

Teacher: “Anyone?”

(Trying to break the silence with some humour:)

Me: “I’ve been to Campbelltown.”

(Campbelltown is 50 minutes drive southwest of Sydney. There is a tiny bit of laughter, followed by more silence.)

Student: “… Um, where is Central Australia?”

(Long, long silence…)

Teacher: “Okay, moving on…”