(I work in a burger place that also sells other types of meat. We’re better than fast food, but not fancy whatsoever. We get a lot of old people on the weekends, and they aren’t always understanding. So, as a female, I get talked down to a lot. This elderly gentleman with his quiet wife comes in and he walks up the register I’m standing at to order his food. Before I can put his order in for the cooks to start cooking, I need to know if it’s for dine in or to go, so…)

Customer: “Hi, I’ll have the [popular item on our menu].”

Me: *in my customer service voice* “Yeah, of course. Will it be for here or to go?” 

Customer: *gives me a look and laughs condescendingly* “I’ll tell you after I’m done with my order, okay?” 

(He’s ALREADY treating me like I know absolutely nothing about the place I work at.)

Me: *still smiling* “Sorry, sir. But I just need to know so I can put your food in the system properly for our cooks to prepare.” 

Customer: *now angry* “I said I’ll tell you at the end.” 

(He went on to order his and his wife’s whole meal, including a bunch of modifications I couldn’t possibly remember without typing it into the system. When he finally finished, I went, “Great! Will that be for here or to go?” He told me his answer and then, of course, I asked him to repeat the whole order because I couldn’t take any of it down until he told me how to prepare his food. He was very mad, but still repeated his order. They got their food perfectly made and delivered out to them in a short amount of time because sometimes you just have to smile through the angry old people.)

(A student is asked to report to the front office and doesn’t recognize the name of the staff member he needs to see. As I am describing her, I mention that she was pregnant last year.)

Student: “We have a pregnant lady?”

Me: “Well, not anymore. She was pregnant last year.”

Student: “So, what happened?”

Me: “What usually happens at the end of pregnancy?”

(This happens when I am ten years old. My parents have briefly gotten back together at the time of this story, after being divorced since I was an infant. It should be noted that my dad has had custody of me all my life. Beyond weekend visits with my mom, I’ve actually never lived with her. Things get… interesting quickly.) 

Me: *to my mom not long after she and my younger half-sister move in* “Ugh, I hate doing dishes!” 

Mom: “Well, if you pick up the rest of the house for me, I’ll do the dishes.” 

Me: *excited* “Really?! Deal!”

(For ten-year-old me, it honestly seems like a great trade. My dad is lazy with housework, so to me, picking up the house means cleaning up trash, straightening, and putting things away. However, with my mom, I learn a completely different version. While she cleans dishes by hand, which takes less than an hour, she has me vacuuming, mopping, scrubbing, dusting, and pretty much gutting every room in the home from the moment I step inside after getting home from school around 3:00 pm until my dad gets home around 6:00 pm. I try to ask my mom to lighten the load, but she won’t hear of it because we had a “deal.” And I don’t want to tell my dad because I complained so much about doing dishes before. This goes on for weeks until one night…)

Me: *literally falling asleep on my feet while my dad asks my sister and me what we want for dinner* 

Dad: “[My Name]? Hey! [My Name]?”

Me: *jerks awake* “What?”

Dad: “What’s wrong?” 

Me: “I’m tired.” 

Dad: “Why?” 

Me: “I was doing chores.” 

Dad: “Are you seriously tired just from doing dishes?”

Me: *quietly shakes my head* 

Dad: *in a pure authoritarian voice that must be obeyed* “What, then?” 

Me: “I’ve been cleaning the house.” 

Dad: “What do you mean?”

Me: *explains everything* 

Dad: “She’s been having you clean since you got home?!” 

Me: *nods meekly, thinking I’m in trouble*

Dad: “Have you had your after-school snack?” 

Me: *shakes head* 

Dad: “Is your homework even done?” 

Me: *shakes head, feeling a little panicked* “I haven’t had time. I didn’t even have a chance to sit down.”

(Just then, my mom comes out from the back of the house.) 

Mom: *angrily* “Is [My Name] complaining about her chores?” 

(At that point, my dad sent me out of the kitchen. Long story short, I never had to do three hours’ worth of chores again, nor did I ever complain about having to do dishes. Essentially, my mom, who did not work, had me doing what she was responsible for and passing it off as if she’d been cleaning all along. Sadly, this was not the only thing she did while living with us, including wedging herself between me and my dad, throwing out a religious item of mine that was a gift from him because she did not “approve,” and even throwing away my perfectly good Game Boy, because she claimed I was going to get a new one that was in color. I was not upset when my parents separated after a year and I no longer had to endure the evil stepmom version of my own mother. And, twenty years later, I’m still waiting on that Game Boy Color, though I’d settle for the latest version of PlayStation.)

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(I am taking my son to an appointment thirty minutes away from where we live. We usually get breakfast on the way and we do the same today. We get food near our house at [Fast Food Place] and we are driving along when, halfway to our destination, I realize they have forgotten part of our order. I do not have time to go back, so I decide to take a chance and see if another location on the way to our destination will help me out. I go in and patiently wait for my turn to talk with the staff.)

Me: “I know you guys are franchises and this happened at another location, but I am hoping you can help me.”

(The cashier nods for me to continue.)

Me: “I have to get him to an appointment by nine and we are halfway there, and the other location is fifteen minutes back that way, and when we went through the drive-thru they forgot part of the order.”

Cashier: “Oh, yeah, sure. We can get that for you. What was it?”

(I let her know and the manager passed by nodding and saying, “Yep, just put it through.” I was told it would be a few minutes, but really it was only a few seconds because the manager went over to the line and had them make the food real quick. I was very grateful because I was willing to buy another sandwich since I did not check that my order was correct before leaving the other location. This just shows that if you are polite and understanding, a lot of places will work with you.)

(We used to have a slightly older woman working in our clothing department who everyone loved. She quit after years of working there because she had been doing it just for something to do and she finally got sick of horrible customers and even worse managers. She comes in one day a couple of months later and browses through our clothing department. The new girl spends about twenty minutes fixing a stack of shirts while another female customer watches her. After the new girl finishes that stack and goes to the next table, the female customer grabs a handful of the bottom of the stack. She knows these are all the same shirt because she has watched the girl fold the entire stack. She pulls them all out, toppling the entire stack, and then looks at the shirts in her hand for just a second before tossing them back onto the now-destroyed stack of clothes. The ex-employee sees this and goes off on the customer, in full-on mom mode.)

Ex-Employee: “What the h*** is the matter with you?! You watched this poor girl fold every single one of those shirts for almost half an hour and just destroyed them in a second! You go fix that mess you made! NOW!”

(The ex-employee makes such a huge fuss about it that every other customer within sight is staring at the female customer, who is now red as a beet. She grabs the whole stack and sets the ones that are still folded up straight and refolds every one that she messed up. It takes about another fifteen minutes for her to fix what she demolished, and then the ex-employee goes right back to being as pleasant as she ever is.)

Ex-Employee: “There! Was that really worth giving her that trouble? Wouldn’t it have been so much easier to just not screw with her? Maybe next time you’ll think before you act!”

(And with that, our ex-employee patted the customer’s shoulder and walked away with a little more pep in her step. Later, before she left, our ex-employee told me she’d wanted to do that for years and since she couldn’t get in trouble now it felt “so good!” to finally get to tell off someone who did that.)