I’m a male with a full head of super curly hair thanks to a strong Greek ancestry. It’s a family joke that our family genes are the reason why people think Medusa had snakes for hair. I also happen to work at a library.

A few years ago, while I was at work, a lady complimented me on my outfit, which I accepted graciously. (I was dressed in business attire and admitted that I looked dapper in it.) She then proceeded to stick her whole hand into my mass of hair. I froze for a moment, absolutely gobsmacked.

Lady: *Snootily* “Oh. You use [Product].”

Me: *Coldly* “You try getting a brush through this monster without detangler. Now get your d*** hands out of my hair.”

The lady went from zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye and screamed for a manager. As this was a library, her voice seemed extra loud in the quiet environment. Everyone nearby looked up to see what was going on. She tried to remove her hand, but the curls snagged, so of course, she came away with a few strands of my hair while I yelped in pain.

My manager came at a run just in time to see this woman rip her hands out of my hair and my head being yanked with it before she was free. He ignored the woman, who was still yelling.

Manager: “Oh, my God, [My Name], are you all right?”

Lady: *Yelling over him* “No, I am not all right! Your employee just swore at me!”

Manager: “I wasn’t asking you. And of course, he did. He’s perfectly allowed to, after what I just saw you do.”

The lady sputtered in shock at the sheer gall of a lowly employee being allowed to swear at the all-important patron.

Then, [Manager] did the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard: he gave her a glorious dressing-down. By the time he was done, the lady was absolutely red in the face and speechless as this quiet-voiced man told her in no uncertain words what a lowly person she was.

He finished up by informing her that she was now banned from the library.

She finally just spun on her heel and left without another word.

We wrote up an incident report. [Manager] was very familiar with his patron (for all the negative reasons), so her leaving wasn’t a problem since he could look her up via her library card information.

[Manager] explained that everything was on the security video, and he planned to call the police since what the lady had done qualified as assault and battery. He was explaining that I would be fully in the right to file a report with them over this and gently advising me that I should, considering how boldly she had done it, when two police officers came in.

The woman had called the police on US! I think my emotions were more tangled up than my hair because I just burst out laughing hysterically and couldn’t stop.

[Manager] showed them the security footage, and I went through with pressing charges once I could stop laughing long enough to do so.

When all was said and done, my manager told me that I could go home for the day if I wanted to which, after a moment of hesitation, I accepted. I promptly went home and washed my hair three times.

Not only is it violating to have someone’s hand shoved up to the wrist in your hair, but you don’t know where the hair or the hands have been. What if my hair had lice? What if she didn’t wash after doing heaven-knows-what in the bathroom?! I was just so grossed out.

A reminder to everyone: DO NOT TOUCH PEOPLE WITHOUT PERMISSION.

I work in a coffee place inside a big box store. I’ve just served a drink to a father and his young son, maybe five years old or so. The boy gets his chocolate and runs off with it. His father calls after him:

Father: “Don’t run, [Boy]!”

Of course, as five-year-old boys tend to do, he trips up and falls to the ground. He seems fine, but his drink has spilled everywhere. He catches us staring and starts to cry, mostly out of embarrassment. The boy’s father is kind but stern, checking his son for any injury.

Father: “This is why I said not to run, [Boy]. Now look what you did to the drink that the nice lady made for you.”

Me: *Coming by to clean up the spill* “Oh, well, accidents happen! If it’s okay with you, I can get him a replacement.”

Before the father can respond, another customer whom I just finished serving decides to join in the conversation.

Customer: “Kids are never gonna learn if y’all keep running in to kiss it all better and fix their mistakes for them.”

The customer makes one more smug look of self-congratulation, turns around, and walks smack-bang into a pillar next to the checkouts. Their coffee goes all over themselves and the pillar, drenches their sandwich, and ends up on the floor.

The customer stares at me, at the parent and child, and then back at me again as we all stare at them.

Customer: “Any chance I could…”

Staring intensifies.

Customer: *Walking away* “…yeah, yeah, I get it. Good one, universe…”

I have an early morning ultrasound scheduled. I get there, check in on the tablet, and wait my turn. The receptionist at the check-in station calls us up one by one.

Receptionist: “Andrew!”

There’s no response.

Receptionist: “Andrew!”

There’s still no response.

Receptionist: “Is there an Andrew here?”

No one answers, so she moves on.

Five minutes later, a man comes in on his phone. Something tells me this is the missing Andrew.

Andrew: “Hi, I’m Andrew. You called me?”

Receptionist: “Okay, go ahead and have a seat, and—”

Andrew: “But you called me.”

Receptionist: “Yes, but you were not here, so you went back on the waiting list. If—”

Andrew: “But you called me.”

Receptionist: “But you weren’t here. Go sit down and I will call you again.”

Andrew sits down, typing furiously on his phone. It rings, and he steps out again. I make eye contact with another woman waiting in the room.

Receptionist: “Andrew?”

Andrew is on his phone outside again, not listening to anything.

Receptionist: “Andrew!”

Other Woman: “Dumba**.”

Receptionist: “Andrew?”

Other Woman: “He’s back outside on his phone.”

Receptionist: *Deep breath* “Okay.”

She calls the next person, and Andrew returns. 

Andrew: “Now this is ridiculous! You’ve called me twice and refused to take me! I have an appointment!”

Receptionist: “Then you need to be present for it. I have called you twice, and both times, you have been out of the room on your phone. Please stay in here and wait to be called.”

Andrew: “This place is bulls***.”

Receptionist: “Sir, sit down or leave.”

His phone rings AGAIN.

Andrew: “I have to take this.”

Receptionist: “If you leave this building again, I will remove you from our system.”

Andrew: “You don’t have the authority to do that!”

Someone else in a white coat — probably a doctor but I don’t recognize him — appears. 

White Coat: “I will remove you. Sit down, silence your phone, and wait your turn, or get out of my office.”

Andrew sits down, face bright red. No one in the waiting room makes eye contact with him. He does finally get seen, since we are checking out at the same time. He is very curt with the receptionist there, too. 

Andrew: *As he is walking out the door* “I’ll tell everyone on Yelp to avoid this s***hole!”

Other Woman: “Hopefully you will, too!”

I am interviewing for a relatively senior position that I am uniquely qualified for thanks to my knowledge of some more obscure programming languages. The interviewers are two men.

Interviewer: “Are you married?”

I’m thinking that we’re moving on to the more “personal” part of the interview.

Me: “Yes, I am.”

Interviewer: “Are you taking birth control? We’re not in the business of financing employee pregnancies.”

Thankfully, the other interviewer looked as horrified as I did and ended the interview right there and then.

I got a phone call later apologising and asking me to come back, but I refused, stating that it was a big red flag that someone with that attitude toward women got to that senior position in the company in the first place.

After working in retail for enough time, you get used to hearing buzzwords. Buzzwords are often words that people decide they want without sparing any thought to what they actually mean. Here is one of my favorite buzzword situations while working in the pet retail industry.

Customer: “I’m looking for the natural dog treats.”

Me: “Most of our treats are single-ingredient and are pretty natural.”

Customer: “No! The natural ones.”

Me: “Um, well, here’s a treat that’s just freeze-dried beef. Nothing else?”

Customer: “Don’t you know your own product at all?! That’s not the natural ones!”

At this point, the customer looks around and sees dog treats with chemical additives, powders, and colors.

Customer: “There they are! See?!”

I looked at the bag, and it said “Natural Flavors” among the other not-so-natural ingredients.