(I am 12 years old. A few years ago, my dad died. He was the main breadwinner of the house, so my mom is now supporting the family. As money is tight, I occasionally take my violin out and perform for tips to get a bit more. I have arrangements with a local convenience store, so they allow me to play right out front. I am playing, when a customer from the store storms up to me.)

Customer: “What the f*** do you think you’re doing?”

Me: “Um… I’m busking, sir.”

Customer: “Cut that s*** out! There are people who need that money out there, unlike you!”

Me: “Dude, I do need thi—”

(The customer then grabs my violin, and smashes it repeatedly against the ground, the wood splintering until it’s a pile of demolished wood. I am on the verge of tears, before the employee who works in the store comes outside.)

Employee: “What the f*** do you think you’re doing?”

Customer: “This little s*** is stealing from people who really need money! He should be punished!”

(The employee calls back into the store.)

Employee: “Hey, call the cops!”

(The customer shoves the employee to the ground, and kicks him in the ribs. A small crowd has gathered around us, when a tall man wearing a long black trench coat walks up.)

Tall Man: “Hey, a**-hat! Pick on someone your own size!”

(The two began to fight, throwing some punches around. Unfortunately, the customer who broke my violin knocks the wind out of the tall man. I have had enough, and I snap. I have been sitting, cradling the stem of my violin, but now I stand up.)

Me: “Hey f***-face!”

(The customer turns around, just in time to get a violin neck to the crotch. He collapses, not even making a sound. The cops arrive and arrest him. Later on, he is forced to pay a fine, and damages. I get a brand spanking new violin, and keep on busking. My family’s income is now stable, and everything’s fine, but I still cherish the memory of the tall man who came to my rescue. I never got his name, but thank you.)

(I’m with my dad, who is an army vet, and three of my friends. My family has no money right now, so my friends are paying.)

Waiter: “Here’s your bill. The couple over there paid for $50.”

Paying Friend: “What?”

Me: “What?”

Waiter: “They didn’t tell you?”

My Dad: “No, they didn’t.”

Waiter: “They saw your vet hat, and said that they’ll pay for $50.”

Me: “Faith in humanity is über restored!”

(To that couple who paid for most of our meal, thank you. Your actions did more than you know for not just my family, but my friends as well. You are saints among men.)

Customer: “Can you just crop the sides of this photo down for me?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to trim your property for any reason.”

Customer: “Not even if I sign a waiver?”

Me: “Unfortunately we’re no longer able to offer this service at all, since we’ve had customers try to sue us in spite of signing a waiver.”

Customer: “Well I’d sue you too, if you ruined my picture.”

Me: “…that’s precisely why we no longer offer that service.”

Customer: “Oh… right…”

(I’m about 10 years old. I’m coming out of a store, when a very obvious tourist couple confronts me. They have a kayak strapped to the top of their truck, and some skidoos trailered to the back. It’s summer.)

Tourist: “You! You can you help me!”

Me: “Umm, okay. What’s wrong?”

Tourist: “Where can I go ice fishing?”

Me: “A lot of places, but it’s way too warm for that right now.”

Tourist: “We’re in Canada, correct?”

Me: “Yeah, but it’s summer time. Maybe if you were much further north you’d find ice.”

Tourist: “I drove up from the south; this is north.”

Me: “Umm, well, you could take your kayak out to Lake Ontario to go regular fishing, but not ice fishing.”

(The tourist’s wife, with selective hearing issues, chimes in.)

Tourist’s Wife: “We can go ice fishing?!”

Me: *gives up* “Sure, just go down Lake Street, and you’ll find the lake.”

Tourist’s Wife: “Honey, look, they name their streets after the places they go to! How cute!”

(I watched them drive off in the opposite direction.)

(I work in a call center. We have a dedicated line for Spanish-speaking customers, but for anyone speaking anything else, we would use an interpreter service. I am on a call between the interpreter and the customer.)

Me: “Can you tell him that, since his phone has water damage, his warranty doesn’t cover it?”

(The interpreter translates this, and the customer shouts angrily for a few seconds.)

Coworker: “What did he say?”

Interpreter: “I don’t want to tell you.”

Coworker: “Oh, come on, now I really want to know.”

Interpreter: “Ok, well…”

(The interpreter repeats back a profanity laced diatribe about me, my family, the phone and the company.)

Coworker: “…wow, he said all that in that one little sentence?”