I am working in a charity store that mostly sells books. Everything is donated and second-hand, and therefore quite cheap. Because it’s for charity, we don’t haggle.

A very old customer approaches the counter with a collection of books. Most are old paperbacks from our dollar bin.

Manager: “Okay, that’ll be ten dollars.”

Customer: “What?! I thought it was ten for a dollar!”

Manager: “No, it’s a dollar each, and you have ten books.”

Customer: “You big bunch of crooks!”

If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it, but the old lady takes her walking cane and slams it on the counter with force much stronger than one would imagine common in a woman of her age.

Customer: “Back in my day, we could get a new book for a nickel!” 

Manager: “Back in your day, nickel had just been discovered!”

I was having lunch at this restaurant last Sunday with my friend. All the other tables were occupied. Two girls appeared, but since it was packed and there were no empty tables or vacant seats, they just stood there awkwardly, looking around, waiting for some people to get up and leave.

Me: “We’re almost finished. You can have our table after we leave.”

But instead of being thankful, they just threw me a dirty look and rolled their eyes as if I were trying to flirt with them. My face went red, and I didn’t know what to say. I was just trying to be nice. It wasn’t as if I was trying to initiate small talk with them or something. Then, my embarrassment turned to anger. The least they could do was just nod their heads.

Then, I heard one of them speak to the other.

Girl #1: “Maybe we should just go to another restaurant.”

Girl #2: “No, this is the only Chinese restaurant near our place. And that guy—” *points at me with her lips in a not-so-subtle way* “—is almost done.”

Fine. I raised my hand and called a waitress over.

Me: “We would like to have a few more drinks, please.”

She brought them out a few minutes later. My friend was trying so hard to stifle his laughter that I swear he broke a rib or two as we VERY slowly ate the rest of our meal. The rude girls left quickly soon after.

I recently adopted a four-year-old bully breed mix named Tank. He is a big boy, about eighty pounds, and has some basic training, but he lacks awareness of his size and gets very excited when people greet him. I decided to enroll him in private training lessons at my local pet store.

On our first walk around the store, a man comments on how cute he is and asks to pet him. 

Trainer: “He is in school right now, so [My Name] is setting the boundaries on his greetings.”

Man: “What does that mean?”

Me: “I’d like people to greet him when he is sitting or lying down. If you could let him sniff the back of your hand first, and then give him a scratch under his chin, that would be great. If he jumps up, I need you to turn away and remove yourself until I get him settled again.”

Man: “Okay.”

I get Tank into a sit and tell the man to go ahead. He offers his hand, and Tank licks it. [Man] immediately goes for the ears and vigorously rubs his head. Tank jumps up into [Man]’s arms and kisses him. I call him back into a sit and step between them.

Man: “What?”

Me: “That is not how I want him to interact with people.”

Man: “I don’t mind.”

Me: “I do. I don’t want him jumping on people.”

Man: “I’m a big guy; I can take it.”

Trainer: “But a small child or an elderly person can’t. If one person encourages him to jump up, he will think it’s okay for everyone.”

Man: “It’s not that serious…”

He leaves us.

Trainer: “That is a common issue with training. Cute little dogs get away with a lot, but… being what he is…”

She gestures to Tank, who is now licking his butt, oblivious to the world around him.

Me: “I know the stigma, which is why I’m here.”

Trainer: *Relieved* “Right. Unfortunately, some people will see Tank as an issue no matter how good he is.”

Me: “I know. He really is a good boy. He just needs some fine-tuning.”

Tank is now laying on the floor, belly up, wiggling back and forth like he’s trying to scratch his back. 

Me: “What a monster, huh?”

Trainer: “Oh, the worst!”

Me: “I’m more afraid of his farts than his face.”

Trainer: *Laughing* “That is the true danger here!”

We practiced polite greetings a few more times that day, and he started to get the hang of it.

Eventually, Tank started asking people to greet him by going up and sitting in front of them, tail wagging and waiting patiently. Some people were thrown off by a big dog staring at them expectantly, but most found it funny and greeted him the right way.

Client: “Hi! I’d like to commission you for some artwork.”

Me: “Can you give me a brief?”

Client: “I’d like it to include a hundred people, all different ages and races, genders, and sizes, all eating my product and looking like it’s delicious.”

Me: “Well, that’s quite ambitious but certainly doable. Did you have any styles in mind that—”

Client: “Oh, just do it for me in all the styles, and I’ll pick the one I like.”

Me: “Uh… what do you mean by ‘all the styles’?”

Client: “When you type my request into your AI thingy, just get it to pump out all the styles.”

Me: “I’m an artist, and I create the art myself. I use some digital artistic tools, yes, but I don’t touch AI, and I don’t think any self-respecting artist would.”

Client: “But… why would you do it all by hand when a computer can do it for you?”

Me: “Because AI is not the tool you’d use to create a polished final product. At this point, I feel that I need to inform you that if you are looking for a cheap and quick job that uses AI, I am not the person for you. I charge [base rate] for a rough draft and then [final rate] for the final product.”

Client: “Wait… You’re expecting to be paid?!“

Me: “Take care, and have a nice day…”

CONTENT WARNING: Physical Injury
 

I used to work in care for people with mental health issues. On my first day I am told to work one-on-one with a man to take him out in his wheelchair. It’s all going fine until he turns around in his chair and bites my arm with teeth that are barely ever brushed!

I have blood running down my arm. I take him home and talk to another staff member who tells me to go home and get it checked out since I’ll be finishing in an hour anyway. I do, and I go to the hospital to get the wound cleaned and given an injection to stop any diseases.

The next day I get in to work and get yelled at and written up by the team leader for leaving to take care of the injury. 

I still have a scar from it a decade later.