I am on checkout in a variety store. I’m a woman. Every week or so, a customer comes through my checkout. I am chirpily polite to him, as I am required to be, and I’m also friendly because I recognise him and acknowledge him as a fellow human being.

A few months into my employment, I leave to walk home after the store has closed, well after sunset, and this customer approaches me. I recognise him and greet him — fellow human being and all.

Me: “G’day, [Customer], how are you?”

Customer: “Good. Can I buy you a drink?”

Me: “No, thank you. I need to get home.”

Customer: “Can I get your number? I would love to catch up away from your store.”

Me: “Sorry, no.”

Customer: “We get on really well. I want you to know me better.”

Me: “I don’t think my husband would agree.”

Secret: I am not married.

Customer: “You are married? You led me on, you b****! You made it pretty clear you liked me.”

Me: “I am sorry, but I am not interested.”

I fled back into the store, called a cab, and snuck out the back door to my parents’ house, where I lived.

I saw the customer once or twice at the tills, but he never approached me as a friend again.

This is not a dramatic story; it’s just something that happens all the time to women who are required to be friendly as part of their job.

I work in an art gallery. Just before closing time, a woman who had exited the gallery came back in again wanting to use the bathroom.

Customer: “You saw me come in already. Can I just use the bathroom?”

Me: “The closest one is occupied. By the time that guest gets out, we will be completing our closing procedures and asking people to leave.”

The visitor exit is time-locked. Anyone left in the gallery after that has to wait to be let out by an employee.

Customer: “You are a horrible human being. Absolutely horrible service. Disgusting how you treat people.”

Me: “You can use the public bathrooms at [Location].”

This is about three minutes’ walk away — in the direction she was heading!

She continues her tantrum and attracts the attention of security, who soon relents and lets her head up to an upstairs bathroom. After she’s finished, she tries to get out by the entrance-only door, which is locked about ten minutes prior to closing. The only exit is by me.

Customer: *Walking by me bitterly* “Thank you.”

 She then proceeded to dump her used paper hand towels — at least, I hope they were hand towels — onto the host table. Just goes to show that even when you give them what they want, they’re still miserable.

My mum has recently bought a house after divorcing my dad. I live with her and pay board each week to cover groceries and some bills. However, I am definitely not renting, nor do I have anything to do with mortgage repayments or homeownership.

I receive a call from an unknown number. Since I’ve been applying for jobs, I answer.

Me: “Hello, [My First Name] speaking.”

There’s a long pause, which I recognise as a scammer calling, about to begin their script.

Scammer: “Yes, is this [My Full Name] speaking?”

Me: “Yes?”

Scammer: “Do you own the house you are currently living in?”

Me: “Oh, no, I do not.”

Scammer: “Are you renting? We have ways of helping people who are renting.”

Me: “No, I am not renting.”

Scammer: “So, you own the house, then?”

Me: “No, I don’t.”

Scammer: “So, you are renting, then?”

Me: “Nope. Not renting.”

Technically, I’m not lying. Also, I have time to spare, so let’s have some fun!

Scammer: “So, you own the house?”

Me: “No, I really don’t.”

Scammer: “So, you don’t own the house, and you’re not renting?”

Me: “That’s right.”

Scammer: *Frustrated* “Well, it has to be one or the other! You can’t live in a place that you don’t own or rent! Do own the house or do you rent the house?”

Me: “I told you, neither!”

He let out an exasperated sigh and hung up on me. I told my mum, and she laughed and congratulated me for getting a scammer to hang up.

I work at a service station where we can pump your fuel for you if you want. We offer three unleaded options: regular/91, premium/95, and premium/98.

Me: “Hi, what can I help you with today?”

Customer: “Can you fill it up with premium? Wait, did I say premium? I just meant, uh, unleaded. Regular.”

Me: “Regular? Just fill it up with regular?”

Customer: “Yes, thanks.”

I start filling it up with our regular/91 fuel. Just as it’s finishing up, the customer gets out of her car and starts peering at the labels of our fuel.

Customer: “Oh, I thought I said premium!”

Me: “Uh…”

Customer: “Ah, it’s all right. I’ve just got to make sure I say it right next time.”

I’m glad she was fine with regular, but it’s a little frustrating. I repeated it back to you for a reason!

It’s approximately 5:30 on a Saturday night — about thirty minutes before we close. I’m alone at the counter while my only other coworker is in the shelves tidying things up. Two teenage boys come in, one wearing what appears to be a band uniform consisting of a black button-up, black slacks, and a silver tie. It strikes me as a little odd, but I don’t really think anything of it.

About ten minutes later, the boy comes up to the counter with a book in his hand.

Boy: “Yeah, so… I don’t have any money, but what about—” *slowly places an unopened can of soda on the counter* “—you take this?”

Me: “Sorry, mate, no can do.”

Boy: “Oh. That’s okay. I’ll just go put it back.”

Me: *Holding back laughter* “Sure thing.”

Boy: “Did you, uh… want the soda anyway?”

Me: “Sure…? Why not? Thanks, mate.”

He proceeds to hand over the soda and I put it behind the counter. [Boy] wanders back into the shelves, followed by his friend. Five or so minutes later, he leaves with his friend. Then, my coworker comes wandering up, clutching another can of soda with a confused expression on his face.

Coworker: “Did he…?”

Me: “Yup.”

Coworker: “Did you…?”

Me: “Nope.”

Coworker: “But you…?”

Me: *Holding up my own can* “Yup.”