A staff member calls me to the front to deal with an unruly customer. He’s trying to get his own fish while she’s helping another customer. He grabs his own specimen container bags from under our fish cupboard and has elastics already.

Me: “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Customer: “I want the buy-three-get-one-free fish.”

I can see he is high by his demeanor and behavior, but no big deal; people come in high all the time.

Me: “What type of tank do you have?”

Customer: “I just bought a reptile online and need to feed it.” 

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, these aren’t feeder fish. They are bred for pets and we can only sell them if they are going to be housed in the appropriate husbandry.”

Customer: “I don’t want your f****** feeder fish; I want these f****** fish.”

Me: “Sir, please stop cursing at me. I am happy to help you by selling you feeder fish for your reptile.”

Customer: “Who the f*** are you to tell me I can’t buy these f****** fish?” 

Me: “Sir, please stop cursing at me. I am willing to sell you feeder fish. These are bred as pets…”

Customer: “What’s your f****** name?” 

Me: “[My Name].”

Customer: “What’s your last name?”

Me: “You don’t need that, sir; they’ll know who I am.”

Customer: “Are you the store leader?”

Me: “Yes, sir, I sure am.”

Customer: “I’m f****** calling to complain that you wouldn’t f****** sell me fish.”

Me: “No problem, sir. At this point, I am going to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “Oh, I am f****** leaving.”

Me: “Oh, and sir, when you call, please make sure you tell them you were buying these fish as feeders. And have a wonderful day.”

Customer: “F*** you.”

Oh, fine, sir. Tonight’s cocktail will be dedicated to your hungry lizard.

We have an open kitchen so customers can see and talk to the cook. Typically, there’s only one cook per shift. I am hard of hearing, and if you’ve ever worked near a vent-a-hood system, you’ll know they are incredibly loud.

A table of ten walks in and I get their order and start cooking. I’m incredibly busy trying to make sure everything gets done at the same time and doesn’t burn and nothing is forgotten or left out.

Another two guys order at the counter. One guy decides to start whistling at me like you’d whistle at a dog to get them to come over. I ignore him because I’m busy, getting mad, and honestly have no interest in what he wants to say to me. Have a problem or question? Talk to your waitress; I’m obviously busy. When the whistling doesn’t work, he starts saying:

Customer: “Hey, you, cook! Come here, girl.”

He is still talking as if to a dog.

Waitress: “Do you need anything, sir?”

Customer: “What’s the cook’s name?”

Waitress: “Oh, it’s [My Name]. Is there anything I can get you or tell her for you?”

He then ignores her question and continues calling at me like a dog, alternating between calling me “cook” and something that isn’t my name.

Customer’s Friend: “Hey, man, chill out. She’s obviously busy, and if you need something you can talk to the waitress.”

The first guy simply continues ignoring his buddy and the waitress while calling at me. I finish all the food. Typically, if I have no other orders, I tend to deliver food to the counter to help out the waitress, but obviously, I don’t do that for these two. I walk up to the guy.

Me: “Look. I might be a b**** but I ain’t a dog, and the next time you disrespect me like that, I will refuse you service.”

Of course, he tries to cut in and say he wasn’t being disrespectful. I simply talk louder, say my speech, and walk away fuming mad. Later, the waitress calls me over, points at the guy, and says:

Waitress: “He has something to say to you.”

The guy hands me a ten.

Customer: *Meekly* “Here. I’m sorry for how I acted.”

I’m working outside on the sidewalk in front of a well-known convenience store that has a car vacuum. A guy pulls up with his van and tries to use it, but it isn’t sucking well; I guess it has a clog. The guy proceeds to have a meltdown.

Customer: “F****** vacuum at f****** store won’t suck my car s***! I’ll burn the place up!”

He went on to loudly curse in strings I’d never heard before, and there were kids around looking owlishly. His girlfriend made admonishing noises, but he threatened to beat her and went on ranting. I was afraid that he was going to attack the nearest person, which was me, even though I don’t work for the store! They finally drove off, weaving erratically. I suppose I should’ve reported him to the cops but he didn’t have a plate.

When I was in college, we had a very attractive girl in our dorm who in today’s world would have been a social media star. Since things like Instagram, TikTok, and Snapchat didn’t exist back then, she would set up her personal video camera and record herself and then store the tapes for future viewing. She was extremely athletic and knew it, and thus she would often wear tight Spandex while filming herself.

One day, as she was recording herself, one of the guys in the dorm walked up to her and started trying to chat her up. She literally didn’t acknowledge his presence in any way, and that upset him. He reached out and grabbed her chest. Without missing a beat, she shoved his hand away. He then grabbed her butt, and she again shoved his hand away. He threw a punch at her, and she casually lifted her hand, grabbed his incoming fist, and shoved him to the side. He stomped off.

Two days later, it was revealed to us that the guy was “transferring,” effective immediately. Apparently, the girl had taken the recording to the dean and let her watch.

I am not social in school. One boy, in particular, seems to take great pleasure in pushing me to the point of tears before leaving me alone with my anger. I tell my parents about this boy, they ask the school to intervene, and the school sends us to a group called “peer counselors.” Each counsel session has two school-aged counselors and one teacher. I’m nine, [Boy] is eleven, and we’re both in fourth grade.

Peer Counselor #1: “We are here today to find out why [My Name] feels targeted by [Boy].”

Boy: “She likes it.”

Me: “I don’t.”

Boy: *Poking me* “It’s just for fun!”

I duck out of his reach, batting his hand away.

Me: “Stop!”

Boy: “She hit me! See?”

Peer Counselor #1: “[Boy], please keep your hands to yourself. [My Name], don’t hit.”

Peer Counselor #2: “[My Name], why do you think [Boy] is picking on you?”

Me: “I don’t know. He’s mean.”

Peer Counselor #2: “Let’s try to not use words like that. Let’s try being more constructive and less destructive.”

Boy: “[My Name] doesn’t have friends. I’m just trying to give her the attention she wants.”

Me: “I don’t want attention.”

Boy: “Then why did you go tattling to your mommy and daddy like a widdle baby?”

He makes mocking crying motions by his eyes. I feel the tears coming and shake my head.

Boy: “See? She’s a baby!”

Peer Counselor #2: “[Boy], we don’t call people babies.”

Peer Counselor #1: “Clearly, [My Name] does not like the attention you’re giving her. Don’t you think you should stop?”

Boy: “No. No one else even talks to her.”

He reaches over and pulls my hair so hard my head jerks sideways.

Me: “Stop!”

I start crying.

Teacher: “Okay, [Boy]. That’s enough. Get up.”

Boy: “What?”

Teacher: “Get up. Now.”

She stands beside him, not touching him.

Boy: “You can’t make me.”

Teacher: “Get. Up.”

[Boy] smiles smugly, crossing his arms.

Boy: “No.”

Teacher: “Okay.”

She grabs him by the arm and drags him out of the room. He protests as they go down the hall toward the principal’s office.

Boy: “Hey! Let go! You can’t touch me!”

My mom came and picked me up from school that day. A few days later, when I returned to school, I heard that [Boy] had been expelled. My “tattling” had given other kids the courage to come forward, sharing experiences from stealing lunch money to physical intimidation. The principal and other staff members felt that expulsion was the best move for everyone. I don’t know what happened to [Boy] or where he went after he was expelled.