(I am working as a waitress in a diner. It’s a Monday and over the weekend I saw my boyfriend’s band perform at a bar. Since I was not 21, the security guard drew Xs on my hands in permanent marker so I wouldn’t drink. I am serving an elderly couple, and the woman suddenly says:)

Elderly Woman: “You should cover those up, dear.”

Me: “What do you mean, ma’am?”

Elderly Woman: “Those tattoos! They look like gang tattoos!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but these are just permanent marker. I went to a bar to see a band perform and since I’m underage, I had to get these so the bartender wouldn’t serve me.”

Elderly Woman: “I don’t believe you. I want to see your manager!”

(I get my manager, who was also at the show and saw me there.)

Me: “What seems to be the problem, ma’am?”

Elderly Woman: “This girl has gang tattoos on her hands! You should fire her immediately!”

Manager: “[My Name] has worked here for over a year. I know she’s not in a gang, and I saw her at the concert where she got these Xs.”

Elderly Woman: “I still don’t like them! They make me uncomfortable!”

Me: “If it would make you feel better, ma’am, I can go to the bathroom and scrub my hands until the Xs are gone.”

Elderly Woman: “They won’t be gone, because they’re tattoos!”

(I go to the bathroom and scrub my hands for a good ten minutes until the marker has more or less faded, and my hands are red and raw. I go back to the elderly couple’s table and show the woman my hands.)

Me: “You see, ma’am? It was just permanent marker.”

(The woman just huffs and asks for the check. Before they leave, her husband says to me:)

Elderly Man: “I’m so sorry about her. She’s been this cranky since I met her.”

(He gave me a tip. I haven’t seen the couple since, and now that I’m over 21, I don’t have to worry about my supposed “gang tattoos” anymore.)

(I work in a hotel. A young woman who looks no more than twenty walks up.)

Guest: “Checkout, please.”

(We go through the checkout process. I print out her receipt and she frowns.)

Guest: “Um… This is wrong. I have a special rate of [amount], because I’m with [Grocery Store].”

Me: “Okay.”

(I bring out her registration form that she signed when she checked in.)

Me: “Is this your signature?”

Guest: “Yes.”

Me: “Well, your signature says that you’ve agreed to pay [more expensive rate].”

Guest: *doe eyes* “But I’m with the group!”

Me: “But you’ve agreed to pay this.”

Guest: “Um… I forgot. I was in a hurry.”

Me: *sighs*

(I guess her parents didn’t teach her to read things before she signed them!)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Company]. My name is [My Name]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, my vehicle has been stuck at a tow yard; I need you guys to get this today!”

Me: “Okay, sir, are there any storage fees currently owed?”

Customer: “No, I’m taking care of those today, but I need it out of there today!”

Me: “I do apologize, sir, but the soonest I can have that vehicle picked up is tomorrow.”

Customer: “Can’t you guys cancel someone else’s pickup and put me on the schedule?”

Me: “No, sir, I would not be able to do that.”

Customer: “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” *hangs up*

Me: “Hello, may I take your order, please?”

Customer: “I want the veggie.”

Me: “Would you like it as a wrap, a sandwich, or a salad?”

Customer: “What’s the difference?”

(I work for a chain store that is closing. A customer comes to the counter and I start to check her out.)

Customer: “So, are you happy the store is closing?”

(I am taken aback from the question. I count to ten so I don’t take her head off.)

Me: “Yeah, all my coworkers and I are thrilled to be losing our jobs.”

Customer: *realizing she may have just asked a truly stupid question* “Well, I just thought maybe you were going to retire or something.”

Me: *being a little mean and not caring* “You think I look old enough to retire?”

(The customer, now looking like she just wants to run away, sputters something about just being curious.)

Customer #2: *overhearing this, weighs in* “Happy?! Why on earth should she be happy? I’m miserable because this is my favorite place to shop and these people are so nice. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

(The first customer paid for her items and practically ran out of the store. [Customer #2] remained a little while and commiserated with me over the closing. Thanks to [Customer #2] for making me feel a little better with her kind words.)