(I volunteer as a teacher’s aide at the same primary school as my father, who is in his late forties. We both have the same distinct last name, so everyone realizes that we’re related. Our exact relationship, however, confuses a lot of kids.)

Kid #1: “Hey, I know you! You’re [Dad]’s sister!”

Kid #2: “Are you [Dad]’s wife?”

Kid #3: “My friend told me that you were [Dad]’s mummy.”

(Finally…)

Kid #4: “Hey, aren’t you [Dad]’s daughter?”

Me: “Yes, I am. Not a lot of people think I’m his daughter right away. They think I’m his sister, or his wife.”

Kid #4: “But that’s weird. You’re really young, and he’s really old. He’s like eighty, or something!”

(So close, kid. So close.)

(I order Venetian blinds online for my house, through a company that has a store in my city. Normally, I go to stores to support local employment, but the store is in the middle of the city with a large building site close by, which limits traffic and parking, and it’s just before Christmas. I also have a back injury, so I am happy to have the heavy boxes delivered to my door. There is a very good online-only sale, and the store quite often does not have what I need in stock. I check their return policy, and it says that returns and exchanges are available through its stores, which is fortunate, because they send me the wrong blinds. I take them in and explain to the cashier that I have ordered timber blinds online and they have sent me the — cheaper and lower quality — faux timber blinds. She checks the invoice and the blinds and tells me that I have received what I paid for.)

Me: “No, I ordered timber blinds, and these are faux timber.”

(She checks again.)

Cashier: “This is a very low price for timber blinds.” *gives me suspicious look over glasses*

Me: “I know; that’s why I bought them.”

Cashier: “We don’t sell timber blinds for this price.”

Me: “Yes, you do, because I bought them, and that’s what I paid. It’s on the invoice.”

(The conversation follows same circle for about five minutes.)

Cashier: “All right, I can give you a refund.”

Me: “I don’t want a refund; I just want to exchange them for the blinds that I was supposed to get.”

Cashier: “This is just how we process exchanges.”

Me: “Oh, okay, then.”

(The cashier processes the refund, then enters the timber blinds into the register.)

Cashier: “That will be [several hundred dollars].”

Me: “No, I am exchanging them, not buying them. I’m not paying anything extra.”

Cashier: “You paid for faux timber blinds; timber blinds are more expensive.”

(My head almost explodes as we repeat the conversation from earlier.)

Me: “Please get your manager.”

(The cashier goes to get the manager and must explain the situation while they are on the way back to the register.)

Manager: “The timber blinds are more expensive than the faux timber blinds, so that is why there is a price difference.”

Me: “Look at my invoice; it says, ‘timber blinds.’ Your company sent me faux timber blinds. I have paid for timber blinds and I just want to exchange the ones that were sent to me by mistake for the ones that I actually ordered.”

Manager: *looks at invoice* “That’s a very low price for timber blinds.” *gives me suspicious look over glasses*

Me: *losing it and raising my voice* “Yes, it is. That’s why I bought them. This is not hard. You have my invoice. You can see that I bought timber blinds. I just want the product that I paid for.”

(The manager gives the cashier the signal to process the sale at the lower price, and the rest of the transaction proceeds as it should have done at the start. It’s very quiet, except for the one statement the manager directs at me.)

Manager: “I don’t know why you didn’t just come into the store in the first place.”

(I’m an attendant at a movie theatre, and we offer a service for people who are partially or fully deaf. They can utilise a piece of equipment that either enhances the volume through personal headphones, or displays captions on a personal monitor. However, the equipment is quite expensive, and thus we retain the customer’s license when we hand it out.)

Elderly Lady: *with husband* “Hello, we would like two senior tickets to [Movie], and may I have the audio enhancement?”

Me: “Of course. That will be [total], and do you have your driver’s license on you? I just need it to be able to hand over the equipment to you.”

Husband: *beginning to fume* “Her license?!”

Me: *a bit confused at his outrage, but happy to further explain* “Yes, the equipment is quite expensive, so we just need to retain the license while it’s in use; you will get it back as soon as the feature concludes.”

Husband: “That’s discrimination! Do you ask for other’s people licenses?!”

Me: “Yes, we require everyone to hand over their license.”

Husband: “So, because people have hearing difficulty, you need their license? That’s discrimination.”

Me: “People who have difficulty hearing are generally the people using the equipment, but the protocol would be the same for anyone who wished to use the equipment, also.”

(The wife, who remained placid throughout the exchange, now talked quietly to husband, who stepped aside again, still angry. She slid her license across the counter. I retrieved the equipment and completed the transaction, still a little unsure why he became so angry. She came out afterwards, praising both the movie and the equipment. He glared at me from across the foyer.)

(I work in a clearance home improvement store. The bed linen we stock is a mix of current catalogue stock and dribs and drabs of discontinued linen at heavily reduced prices. The older stock tends to end up looking a little battered, because customers often rip open the packaging carelessly to look at the bed linen inside. On this occasion a woman approaches the counter with a quilt cover reduced to from $150 down to $20. The plastic packaging is quite shabby, and torn in a couple of places, but the bed linen inside is undamaged.)

Customer: “What’s wrong with this quilt cover?”

Me: “Nothing, ma’am, it’s just discontinued stock.”

Customer: “But why is it so cheap?”

Me: “This quilt cover isn’t being made anymore, so any stock we have left is the very last stock available ever in this design. In order to sell the last of it, we’ve marked it down. Lucky for you, hey?”

Customer: “The packaging is torn.”

Me: “Yeah, that happens sometimes. Nothing to worry about, though; let me just tape it up for you.”

(I go about taping up the otherwise useless plastic packaging so that it’s now completely sealed.)

Customer: “Can I get a discount?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “Because the packaging is so torn. Can I get a discount?”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t discount an item that isn’t faulty.”

Customer: “But the packaging is torn.”

Me: “I understand, but you’re not buying the packaging. You’re buying the quilt cover, which is undamaged.”

Customer: “But the packaging is torn! Can’t you give me a discount?”

Me: “This quilt cover was $150 at full price. I really can’t discount it any further. But I tell you what: if you get it home and the cover is faulty, just bring it back in with your receipt and we can give you a full refund. You’re still getting a pretty good deal!”

Customer: *huffs* “Fine. But I don’t understand why you can’t give me a discount for the packaging.”

(I am working in a large department store. We have staff discounts that also cover immediate family’s purchases. We aren’t allowed to serve family members or friends ourselves; the company is really strict about giving discounts. I get called to the counter.)

Coworker: “There’s a lady over there who asked for you; she said she’s a friend.”

(I recognise the lady as someone my sister knows; I barely know or even like her.)

Lady: “Hi, [My Name], I need to buy this stuff. Your sister said you’ll give me a discount.”

Me: “I can’t give you a discount.”

Lady: “Yes, your sister said you would; you can use your staff discount.”

Me: “No, I’m not allow to do that. Staff discounts can only be done by a manager, and only with family. It’s not up to [Sister] to promise that to you.”

Lady: “Well, tell the manager I am your sister.”

(It’s very obvious that we are different nationalities.)

Me: “The manager knows what my sister looks like, and you have just told [Coworker] that we’re friends; I can’t do it.”

(I knew that if I gave in to her that I would never see the end of it, and she and my sister’s other friends would be in constantly demanding discounts.)