I didn’t want to take an advanced language arts class for my senior year of high school, so I signed up for the standard English 12. I immediately knew I wouldn’t like the class as, in the first week, the teacher started a unit on basic spelling rules.

My classmates and I all knew each other reasonably well, even if we weren’t all friends. One classmate had a slightly unusual name. For this story, I’ll call her Stella, and I’ll call the teacher Mrs. Hale (rhymes with “rail”).

On the first day, Mrs. Hale called the roll.

Mrs. Hale: “Estelle?” (Pronounced “eh-STELL”)

Stella: “Here, but my name is Stella.” (Pronounced “STEL-uh”)

Mrs. Hale: “Oh, all right. I’ll make a note.”

On the second day, Mrs. Hale called the roll.

Mrs. Hale: “Estelle?”

Stella: “It’s Stella.”

On the third day…

Mrs. Hale: “Estelle?”

Stella & Her Friends: “It’s Stella!”

On the fourth day…

Mrs. Hale: “Estelle?”

Most Of The Class: “It’s STELLA!”

This went on through the whole second week until we all kind of gave up, figuring Mrs. Hale would keep mispronouncing Stella’s name no matter what we did. All except me, that is.

At the beginning of the third week, Mrs. Hale explained something to us and wrote examples on the dry-erase board. I raised my hand to point out a minor mistake she had made. She looked at it and insisted she was correct. I showed her information in the textbook to prove otherwise. She just glared at me in an “Are you finished yet?” kind of way. Clearly, I wasn’t going to win that battle, and as a student against a teacher, I was essentially powerless, but I wanted revenge anyway.

Me: “Never mind, Mrs. Hally.” (Rhymes with “rally”)

Mrs. Hale: “My name is Mrs. Hale.”

Me: “I know that, Mrs. Hally.”

Mrs. Hale: “Why are you saying my name like that?”

Me: “Because you refuse to pronounce Stella’s name correctly, even though we have all corrected you several times. So, until you can get my friend’s name right, I will intentionally say your name wrong.”

She glared at me for about a minute and then went on with her lesson (mistakes and all) as if my interruption had never happened.

I called her Mrs. Hally the entire semester. She never got my friend’s name right.

It is Sunday, about twenty minutes before closing. A woman comes rushing in, looking a bit frantic, and beelines straight toward me.

Customer: “I need [list of items we have either run out of or have in low supply].”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I think we only have about two of those items still in stock.”

Customer: “What?! But my kid needs it for his project at school tomorrow! Why are you sold out?!”

Me: “Because two hundred other kids from the same school are doing the exact same project.”

Customer: “But… why?! You should have more, then! Go check the back, you lazy bum!”

Me: “We don’t have any more, ma’am. I know because based on conversations with multiple parents, this particular project was assigned three weeks ago, and we assumed that, since the completed project itself is due tomorrow, any parent who would need these supplies would have purchased them ages ago so their kid would have time to make the project.”

Customer: “Are you implying I’m a bad parent?”

Me: “No, ma’am, I’m saying your child either told you late or you forgot until now, but either way, you’re taking that out on me. We do not have what you’re looking for, and we close soon. I wish you the best of luck!”

Customer: *Sarcastically* “Do you really?”

Me: “No… not really. Goodnight!”

I work at a pet store that does boarding, too. My family is going on vacation and boarding the family dogs. I get a call from my mom saying they aren’t letting Riley stay. I’m very confused, because I double-checked that they had all their shots and paperwork in order. I go over and ask what the problem is.

Front Desk Agent: “That’s a pit bull mix! You know we don’t board pit bulls! [My Name], you know better, and I’ve already called a manager over because your mother is arguing with me.”

Me: “Okay.”

I wait for the manager.

Manager: “What’s the problem?”

Front Desk Agent: “They’re trying to board a pit bull mix!”

Manager: “Are you talking about the lab?”

I pull out Riley’s six-generation AKC pedigree from his paperwork folder.

Me: “A pure-bred liver-nosed yellow English (show) Labrador retriever.”

Mom: “That’s what I kept telling her!”

[Front Desk Agent] had never seen an English (show) lab. They are tanks with bowling ball heads. She got taken off the desk for a while, my mom got a discounted stay, and apparently, Riley got to meet everyone so they could spot a pure-bred Labrador.

A customer comes up to the customer service desk where I process refunds.

Customer: *Angrily* “I bought this box of kid’s cough syrup, and it didn’t have a plastic seal on the bottle! Are you trying to murder my child?!”

Me: “That brand has stopped using plastic seals for environmental reasons. If you’re looking to return it for a refund, I will need the receipt.”

Customer: “I don’t have that!”

Me: “It’s store policy that all non-receipt returns are made out to a gift card.”

Customer: “Override it!”

Me: “It’s system-enforced; I don’t have a choice.”

Customer: “You’re murdering my child!”

Me: “Me specifically, or the company? Or that brand?”

Customer: “You! You are murdering my child by poisoning his medicine!”

Eventually, his wife stepped in to stop his screaming and asked for the refund on a gift card, which I happily gave. He then attempted to throw the receipt at me in anger. He didn’t even crumple it. He just threw a piece of flat paper at me at full force, which fluttered onto the desk between us.

Our store has a policy telling everyone who comes in half an hour before closing how much time is left. We send out multiple pages every five minutes, but we aren’t allowed to close the doors prior to closing time or kick people out.

It’s been slow toward the end of the night as a major storm is rolling in and is supposed to hit around closing time. This lady walks in with three minutes to spare.

Shift Lead: “Hi, ma’am. Just so you’re aware, we close in three minutes.”

Customer: “I know exactly what I’m looking for; I’ll only be a moment.”

To give her credit, she does walk directly over to the scrapbooking aisle and start picking things up right away. She grabs several scrapbooking kits (the boxes with everything you need for an event or theme) and sets them down on the floor at the end of the aisle.

Shift Lead: “Is there anything we can help you find? Are looking for something particular?”

Customer: “No.”

Shift Lead: “Can we carry these up front for you?”

Customer: “No. I know exactly what I’m looking for.”

She gathered about eighteen of these kits and proceeded to sit in the middle of the main aisle with them spread out in a semi-circle around her as she read the details on the back and inspected each one closer.

We didn’t get to leave before the storm hit, and the shift lead had to explain to the manager why we closed almost an HOUR late.