Manager: “I need you to come in tomorrow; we’ve had some call-outs.”

Me: “No can do. As soon as I finish my shift tonight my parents are picking me up and we’re driving out-of-state to my uncles for July 4^th.”

Manager: “Well then I give you permission to call your parents to let them know you can’t make it.”

Me: “Uh… no, that’s not possible. I booked this off with [Boss] last Christmas. I had to work all of Christmas so he said I could take three days off over July 4^th.”

Manager: “Well [Boss] isn’t here right now, I am, and you either come in tomorrow or you don’t come in at all.”

Me: “You realize that’s not the flex you think it is, right?”

Manager: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I am eighteen years old, living at home, and leaving for college after the summer. This job, to be blunt, means nothing to me. It simply pays minimum wage for my video games. You’re making me choose between this job and a nice weekend with my family that was promised to me, you’re not going to come out of the winning end of that argument.”

Manager: “But… we don’t have anyone to cover!”

Me: “You’re paid a manager’s salary to deal with a manager’s problems, my dude! Let me know before the end of my shift if I’m coming back after the weekend or not!”

Turns out the manager wanted to take the day off and go to the beach. He had to stay and work all weekend while I enjoyed my break and was welcomed back by the boss on my return. I stayed working there until college!

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I have officially quit my retail job, but I agree to come in and work morning shift on July Fourth because they needed cover, I like my manager, and I don’t have any plans until the afternoon anyway.

It is around midday, and I have just wrapped up my shift, signed out, and removed my uniform, when a regular comes in that usually causes us issues. He’s a grumpy miserable old man who gets his kicks out of complaining and making newer or younger members of staff cry.

I see him making a beeline for one of our newer trainees at the customer service desk, scowl on his face, venom in his eyes, and I rush over to intercept.

Me: “How can I help you, sir?”

He looks at me with surprise, as does the trainee, as it is evident that I have rushed over just for this interaction. Seeing no way to escape, the regular accepts he will have to try to make a more seasoned retail worker cry today.

Regular: “I bought these American flags from you guys, and they’re made in China!”

Me: “Yes, a lot of our stock comes from overseas, sir.”

Regular: “Well, I don’t want it! I want a refund!”

Me: “Unfortunately, sir, since this is a seasonal item and today is the holiday it’s seasonal for, we’re not permitted to do a refund unless the item is faulty.”

Regular: “It is faulty! It’s a god-d*** Chinese flag!”

Me: “It’s the US flag, sir, it’s just not made here. We can offer store credit.”

Regular: “And I can use that credit to buy a flag made in America?”

Me: “I’m afraid most of our seasonal items will be made overseas, sir.”

Regular: “You’re all so unpatriotic! I’m going to complain about this! What’s your name?”

Me: “It’s [My Name], sir. Please make sure to spell it correctly, as you usually get it wrong when you complain about me.”

Regular: “Are you giving me sass, missy?”

Me: “Why yes! Yes, I am! So happy you noticed, sir. Anything else we can offer to assist you today, sir? I believe your last letter of complaint was about how the lighting was too bright? Before that I think you tried to get one of our sixteen-year-old trainees fired because they didn’t know where stock was from memory… on their first day. Any of these issues still bothering you, sir?”

Regular: “That’s it! Get me your manager! I’m gonna get you fired on the fourth of July!”

My manager is called and is confused to see me here. The regular makes his complaint.

Regular: “…and then she said all those things! What are you going to do about it!”

Manager: *To me.* “[My Name], weren’t you supposed to be out of here at twelve?”

Me: “That’s right. I’m all signed out.”

Manager: “And this was your last shift, ever?”

Me: “Also correct!”

Manager: *To Regular.* “I’m sorry, sir, but [My Name] is no longer an employee of this store. What she said to you, we have to treat as being said by that of another customer. There’s nothing we can do.”

Regular: “I want you to fire her!”

Manager: *Sighs.* “Very well. [My Name], I would like to hire you.”

Me: “I accept.”

Manager: “And now, you’re fired.”

Me: “Oh no.”

Manager: *To regular.* “There you go, sir. Please have a happy July 4^th.”

The manager walks away, non-plussed, and the regular scowls at me yet storms off.

Apparently, he did write in and complain, but as it was pointed out that this was his twentieth complaint our management wrote back to say that we clearly are unable to provide him “the service he deserves” and the recommended he shopped elsewhere.

And I had a great July 4^th, thank you!

I work at a giant entertainment and arcade space, with bowling, games, etc. All staff have specialized roles and it’s rare to find someone who can hop between departments. A grandmother comes up to me with some of her grandkids.

Grandmother: “I want to buy some of those toys. We couldn’t win any in the game, but I can see they have price tags.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Which ones did you want?”

She points them out and I take them down. I then walk with her over to the cashier station and hand them to the cashier. There is a line of about four people.

Me: “The cashier will help you when it’s your turn, ma’am.”

Grandmother: “No, you ring me up right now.”

Me: “I am not a cashier, ma’am, but my coworker here will be able to help you if you just step in line.”

Grandmother: “Are you lazy? Or just too stupid to learn how to use a cash register?”

Me: “Ma’am, please, there is no need to be so rude. I am simply not currently trained—”

Grandmother: “Get me your manager! They need to sort you out!”

I call the manager, who thankfully backs me up and tells her to get in line. She does so and rants about my limited intelligence the entire time. As she is leaving with her purchase:

Grandmother: “You’ll amount to nothing, working in a place like this! You’re too stupid to do anything else!”

Me: “Actually, I am weeks away from graduating with a degree in molecular biology, so I expect to be working in a lab very soon! Lucky for me, they won’t have a cash register either!”

She stares, makes a stifled “hmph!” sound, and storms out.

Reading this story reminded me of my own amazing experience, but it wasn’t me that was leaving, but one of my managers. We work in a grocery store and our manager is a twenty-year veteran who is finally retiring.

We also have ‘that’ customer; the awful regular who exists only to make our lives a living H***.

I am training one of our new hires, a sweet eighteen-year-old woman who is working part-time to pay her way through college. She is getting the hang of the checkouts and is understandably slower than the average checkout clerk. Our lane has signs that state this, not to mention she has a big ‘TRAINEE’ badge on her uniform in big bold letters.

Awful regular has entered our lane and has been complaining about the slow checkout from the first second she stepped in it. She steps up and the trainee starts scanning her items.

Awful Regular: “It’s about time! What is this, be-lazy-at-work day?”

Trainee: “I’m sorry, madam, I am new, and I am still getting the hang of things.”

Awful Regular: “Oh, lucky me, I get the slow girl. Did they get you from the special school or something, eh? Are you part of some special ‘put-the-r**ards-into-the-workforce’ program?”

I decide this is enough and step in.

Me: “Madam! Please don’t be rude. My coworker here has explained that she is new and so is still learning. Please be respectful of that, and her.”

Our awful regular decides that I have said some magic words, and she decides to invoke some of her own.

Awful Regular: “Get me your manager! You’ll be sorry you said that!”

I call over our aforementioned retiring regular, and when she sees that our awful regular is the cause, she looks strangely happy.

Manager: “Mrs. [Awful Regular], I am glad that it’s you. I heard a shrill banshee cry coming from the registers and was worried a cat was choking on a whistle.”

Awful Regular: “What?! How dare you!”

My manager glances at me, and then at the trainee, and then back to the now-fuming awful regular.

Manager: “Let me guess, you stepped into a lane that was signposted as belonging to a trainee, and you’re complaining that you have to deal with a trainee.”

Me: “That pretty much sums it up, [Manager]!”

Awful Regular: “Your r**arded clerks are going too sl—”

Manager: *Interrupting and bellowing.* “You do not get to speak that way to my staff!”

The sudden outburst has shocked the awful regular, and admittedly me, into silence.

Manager: “You do not get to speak that way to me, or my staff, or any poor soul that has the absolute displeasure of being within two metres of you ever again. For twenty years you have been coming here and ruining the days of countless colleagues and it ends today! You will finish your transaction in silence, or you will be banned!”

Awful Regular: “You can’t ban me! I am a customer, and I will be writing to your head office to get you fired!”

Manager: “I am quitting in less than two weeks! You have nothing! Get out. We are refusing you service.

The awful regular is now frighteningly aware that their years of behaviour might finally be coming back to haunt them.

Awful Regular: “You… you can’t be serious?”

Manager: “Madam, I have never been more serious about anything in my entire life. You are a miserable little woman who lives to only spitefully bring fear among poor workers just trying to get through their day. Every minor inconvenience to you is a letter to management that got some poor teen in trouble and shattered their confidence. Every out-of-stock item got you a coupon from head office and a reprimand for our stocking staff. Madam, we are done with you, and I envy people who have never met you.”

With that, our manager points to the exit and just stares. The awful regular tries to make another protest but our manager diligently just continues to point towards the exit.

The awful regular finally realises they have no power in this moment, and they storm out.

Me: “[Manager]! That was amazing!”

Manager: *Now shaking.* “I have been practicing that speech all month! Getting to do that was one of the reasons I wanted to retire!”

The awful regular did write to the head office (because of course she did) and the head office said they would investigate what happened. Head office was also aware that this was the one-hundredth-and-thirty-sixth complaint letter they had received from this same woman over a twenty-year period, and decided that there was simply no pleasing some people and decided to ignore any further complaint from her in the future.

I can’t say if the ban was ever upheld, but I never saw her ever again so I like to think that even if it wasn’t she was too ashamed to ever come back.

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My son is in second grade, and in most ways, he is your typical, overly active little boy. He does, however, have one small secret: he sometimes likes to wear his sister’s dresses or other more feminine clothes. He’s been doing it since he was old enough to start picking what he would wear and would occasionally select his sister’s clothes instead of his own. We did try to redirect him to more “male” clothes at first, but he was insistent enough — and thankfully, his sister was willing to share for once — that we accepted that he was occasionally going to be wearing dresses.

Now that [Son] is older, he has a vague sense that his choices aren’t “normal”, but he still likes to wear dresses on occasion and knows his family will love and support him regardless. Currently, he only wears dresses in the privacy of the house, on vacations far from those who know him, or otherwise on special occasions when it’s unlikely to draw too much negative attention. To be clear, we haven’t refused to allow him to wear a dress more publicly; we had a discussion with him, and this was mostly his decision. He likes wearing dresses on occasion, but it’s not a high priority to him, and he is more worried about the negative repercussions of friends and locals to his wearing a dress. For example, last Halloween, we suggested that we could get a costume for [Son] that included a dress so he would have plausible deniability when wearing it in public, and he told us he still wouldn’t be comfortable wearing one around friends, even as a costume.

It was several weeks ago when one of [Son]’s friends asked him if he wore dresses. Apparently, [Friend] had noticed him wearing a dress in our backyard and/or seen it through a window. I’m getting the details second-hand from [Son], and the hearsay isn’t clear on how the discovery happened. [Son] admitted it to [Friend], and [Friend] didn’t say much about it at the time. This didn’t stop [Son] from worrying that [Friend] would treat him differently or tell others. He was quite relieved when [Friend] didn’t bring it up again afterward.

So, you can imagine my own anxiety when [Friend]’s dad asked me at our local playground if it was true that my son liked to wear dresses. I gave as non-committal an answer as I could manage without outright lying, but apparently, I was still pretty transparent.

Father: “Oh, don’t worry. I already talked to [Friend] about privacy, and he’s promised not to go telling others, so [Son]’s secret is safe with us. I just wanted to mention that next time the kids have a sleepover, if [Son] wants to bring a dress, I’ll wear mine, too.”

It turns out that [Father]’s wife had once ended up with a dress that didn’t fit her but couldn’t be returned, so he had annexed it as his own. Every few months, he would wear it around the house just to get his son accustomed to the idea that men might like to wear a dress, or that someone who looks like a man may not be one. This was apparently part of a larger campaign to expose their son to as many different types of people as possible to encourage the child to be supportive of differences.

At first, [Son] was afraid to wear a dress openly in front of a peer, but after talking to [Friend] a few times and determining that [Friend] really didn’t care if he wore a dress, he finally decided to take them up on the offer. Last weekend, he wore a dress — one purchased just for him, not a hand-me-down from his sister — openly in front of a friend for the first time during their sleepover. It was also the first time he met another man wearing a dress. He loved it and is already talking about how he plans to wear dresses whenever he wants when playing with [Friend] from now on.

[Friend]’s mother has suggested that her son was potentially open to trying wearing a dress once, so there is even a possibility of an all-dress sleepover sometime in the future, depending on whether [Friend] decides he is open to the idea or not.

Given [Son]’s anxiety about others catching him wearing a dress, I’m personally glad that his first time being “caught” ended so well. I’m so thankful [Friend]’s parents for going out of their way to ensure their son would be supportive of my own.

This story is part of the Best-Feel-Good-Stories Of-2023 roundup!

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