Pharmacist: “[My Name], come here now.“

Me: “*immediately scared knowing I’ve done nothing wrong* “Yes?”

Pharmacist: “Care to explain why you did the stocktake of [Manager]’s area incorrectly and why on [Day I don’t work] the wall display isn’t complete like I asked?”

Me: “Sorry? Well, firstly, I don’t work on [Day] and was not here on [Day], and secondly, the wall display did not get done because, as you would have seen in my note, we had a gentleman come in with a severe concussion, his head was bleeding non-stop, and he was confused and dizzy, so we called an ambulance. [Other Pharmacist] and I were both by ourselves during a busy period so we had to prioritise the customer. By the time we had called the ambulance and assisted the gentleman and paramedics, and cleared the customers who said they were okay to wait and [Other Pharmacist] and I were doing really good and the right thing, it was time to go. [Other Pharmacist] had to leave on time so I was unable to stay back. As you would know, an assistant cannot stay back if there is no pharmacist present.” 

Pharmacist: “That is no excuse! Do you have some sort of brain disorder? You should have left the patient and done what you were told! As for the stocktake, everyone else here denies doing it incorrectly. So it must have been you. You must have snuck in without us knowing.”

(I ended up leaving shortly after this incident. This was the last straw from years of bullying. To this day, I’m still scared by the bullying I received from these people)

(I’m ringing a young girl up at my candy store, and she’s a dollar short on her purchase. She turns to another, younger girl, who looks to be around nine or ten years old.)

Older Girl: “Go get Mom?”

Younger Girl: “No.”

Older Girl: “What? Come on, go get Mom.”

Younger Girl: “No!”

Older Girl: “I don’t have enough money!”

Younger Girl: “So?”

Older Girl: “Go. Get. Mom!”

Younger Girl: “NO!”

(Visibly frustrated and upset, the older girl turns to me.)

Older Girl: “Is it okay if I run and get my mom real quick? I just need another dollar.”

Me: “It’s fine. I’ll hold your bag for you.”

(The older girl runs off, and I frown at the younger girl. Seeing me looking at her — and apparently COMPLETELY misinterpreting my expression — the younger girl beams at me proudly.)

Younger Girl: *smugly* “I never do anything anyone tells me to!”

This story is part of our Kids-In-Candy-Stores roundup!

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Read the Kids-In-Candy-Stores roundup!

As part of the outreach programming at a small museum, my boss and I run a drop-in “Art in the Park” program for local kids twice a week during the summer. Occasionally, an entire camp shows up with 50+ kids, and they mistakenly assume the two of us being there means they don’t have to help supervise. This time, two summer camps have shown up, we’re totally swamped, and I’m mediating a conflict between two kids with one of the camp counselors when one of her coworkers comes over.

Counselor #1: *With no emotion* “[Student #1] lost his hammer privileges. He used it to hit [Student #2].” 

Counselor #2: “Oh, my gosh! Is [Student #2] okay?”

Counselor #1: “Umm…” *Wanders off*

I look over and see [Student #1] still holding the hammer and swinging wildly at a piece of scrap wood while several other kids also hit it with whatever they can find.

Me: “[Counselor #1]! If they’re going to use the hammers, you need to be right there watching them!”

[Counselor #1] sits down near the kids, but does not look up from her phone at them or me.

Me: “[Counselor #1]! To be safe, only one kid can hammer at once, and you need to be holding the board and nail!” 

[Counselor #1] still doesn’t look up from her phone.

Me: “Kids, if you’re going to use the hammer, [Counselor #1] needs to be holding the nail with pliers. Right, [Counselor #1]?” 

[Counselor #1], literally sitting a foot from me, STILL didn’t look up from her phone. I sighed and just put the hammer away.

(I use the train multiple times a week to get to my university and back. One day, two conductors are checking tickets, and one of them is slightly cross-eyed.)

Conductor #1: “Please, show me your ticket.”

Passenger: “Get lost, squint.”

Conductor #1: *slightly irritated* “Could I please see your ticket now?”

Passenger: “Just leave me in peace, squint. You have no right to treat me like this.”

(The conductor calls for his workmate.)

Conductor #2: “Excuse me, sir, I must ask you to be polite and show me your ticket, or you will receive fines for dodging the fare.”

Passenger: “You have no right to treat me like this, you a**holes! I worked the whole day and am on my way home now and you two have no right to discriminate against me with your fascist methods!”

Conductor #2: “I’m calling the police; they’ll pick you up at the next train station.”

(The passenger flips them the bird, cursing the two out for treating him like that. He is escorted out of the train by police at the next stop.)

Me: “Keep it up, guys. You were polite and some people are just a**holes.”

Conductor #2: “No worries. We’re used to handling stuff like that.”

When I am around five or six years old, my family decides they want to do something nice for the neighborhood, so they buy a great deal of candy and plastic eggs for a community Easter Egg Hunt. Easter morning arrives and a bunch of kids have already started hunting for eggs when two other kids from down the street arrive and ask to join.

Now, these kids aren’t exactly known for being the nicest children on the block, but my parents shrug and figure that everyone should have a chance. My dad speaks as he’s handing the kids their Easter baskets.

Dad:  “Okay, try to let the little kids get some eggs, too, guys! And please don’t roughhouse with anyone; we’re all just here for fun!”

Rowdy Kids: “Don’t worry; we’ll be good!”

They immediately run off, and the second the adults’ eyes are off of them, they start pushing kids over and taking eggs from their baskets. My dad pulls them aside after hearing the yelling and tells them off, informing them that if it happens again, they’ll be kicked out. I suppose he should kick them out right then, but he wants to be nice to everyone.

All seems well after that, aside from the bigger kids outrunning the toddlers and hoarding all of the eggs to themselves, so once all of the eggs are found, my dad announces:

Dad: “Okay, guys, since the little ones didn’t get the chance to get as much candy as everyone else, we’re going to redistribute it so everyone gets a fair share!”

The rowdy kids take off running before my dad even finishes his sentence. My parents look at each other in irritation and dismay, deciding just to have a discussion with their parents after the event is done. After the candy is given out and the cleanup is done, my parents go over to the kids’ house and explain the situation.

Rowdy Kid’s Mom: “Well, how is that my problem? Serves you right for letting them in!” *Shuts the door*

Yeah, my parents never did anything for the neighborhood after that. We always felt really badly for those kids, though, having parents like that. I hope they’re doing well now.