(I work in a well-known big box store whose employees wear a distinctive vest with a logo on the back. I am wearing my vest when I stop at the liquor store. I am looking at wine when this happens.)

Woman: “Excuse me.”

(Thinking she is trying to pass, I step closer to the shelves to allow her to pass. She clears her throat and says even louder:)

Woman: “Excuse me! I’m looking for [Fancy Brand] of wine.”

Me: “I don’t work here, sorry.”

Woman: *rolling her eyes* “I know that. You work at [Big Box Store]. You have your vest on. So, hop to it.”

Me: “What?”

Woman: *snaps* “It’s a law. If you don’t help me, I’m going to call the police!”

(A man, I assume her husband, comes over and takes her arm. He gives me an “I’m sorry” look and leads her away.)

Woman: *yelling* “You’re required by law to help me! You’re wearing the vest!”

(I sometimes feel like slave labor when I work at [Big Box Store], but I had no idea that the vest actually made me one.)

I live on a narrow one-way street. Emphasis on “narrow” and “one-way.” One day I’m driving home. It’s been a long day; it’s summertime and hot.

I’m very tired and just want to go to bed. Coming round the corner of my street, I have to slam on my brakes because a car is coming towards me.

So, there we stand. The driver in the other car, a young girl, starts shooing and gesturing that I have to back up. We all know her; she has a habit of driving down our street the wrong way because it saves her 500 meters on her ride home. There have been several complaints filed against her, but the police say, “We have to catch her in the act if we want anything to happen.”

I’ve had it for today. I turn off the engine, pull on the handbrake, get out, and lock my car. I take pictures of my car, the other driver, and the license plate on her car with my phone.

She rolls her window down and starts shouting. I just say, “You always knowingly neglect the traffic signs. So now, you back up and get the h*** out of here because I’m calling the police.” And I walk the 50 meters home, meanwhile calling the police.

There’s a lot of yelling and honking behind me; I don’t care. A lot of my neighbours come to watch what all this honking was about.

While I’m sitting inside, I hear a car reversing through our street. At least, I hear a car driving backwards and forwards and backwards again to avoid scratching the parked cars — I did tell you this was a narrow street.

The next day a neighbour tells me it took her 30 minutes to get out of our street. I guess that all the neighbours laughing and making fun of her wasn’t helping her driving skills, either. Best thing was that the police just happened to arrive in time to witness her reversing down our street. She did get several fines.

No one has ever seen her drive through our street again.

(I work as a lifeguard at a local pool. There is a little boy, about three years old, in the deep end. I wouldn’t be bothered by this, as I passed the test to swim in the deep end when I was only four; however, I have watched him struggle to swim to his mother from the edge, five feet away.)

Me: *calls the boy over, being very polite, and keeping a smile on my face the entire time* “Hey, bub, I don’t think you’re a strong enough swimmer to be in the deep end right now; why don’t you practice a bit more and take the test again?”

Boy: *goes to his mom* “She says I can’t be in the deep end.”

Mom: *holds her now crying child and yells at me* “He passed his test; he can be in the deep end, idiot!”

(My boss, who didn’t see what happened, walks out. They begin to talk, the mom raising her voice a bit.)

Mom: “This is embarrassing, but that girl says [Boy] can’t be in the deep end!”

Boss: “Oh.” *to me* “He passed his test, [My Name].”

(I explain what actually happened. He tells me he’ll talk to the other boss. The other guard talks to me and tells me that’s the same little boy that he pulled out of the pool last year. He tells me that I was right; we switch chairs, as I am crying from being yelled at and the stress of the kid. Twenty minutes after the break is over, the boy has to be pulled from the pool.)

Mom: *while my coworker is pulling the drowning kid out* “He’s fine; he’s okay. Don’t touch him!”

Coworker: “He was drowning.” *to the boy* “Get out for five minutes, and catch your breath, okay, bub?

(The mom grabs her child’s hand and storms over to my other boss, keeping her voice low but glaring at both my coworker and me now and then. I can only hear bits and pieces, but she asks why we are being rude — when both of us were very polite — and being mean to her son. My boss says simply:)

Boss #2: “If that’s what they think, then he shouldn’t be in the deep end. They just had to pull him out.”

(They left, and I didn’t see them for about a month. My mom saw the boy’s name on the swim lessons list: level-one swim lessons for kids who can’t swim.)

(My husband and I go to breakfast in a local diner. As we sit down and start looking over the menu, an older couple comes in and sits down right next to us. This is a very small place, and the tables are super close to one another. When their breakfast comes, the woman takes a bite of her home fries, throws down her fork, and yells for the waitress.)

Woman: “These home fries aren’t crispy enough. I specifically asked that they be crispy!”

(I heard her place her order, and she said nothing about the home fries being crispy.)

Waitress: “I’m sorry, ma’am. If you’d like, I can have them put back on the grill for a couple of minutes.”

Woman: “Yes, put them back on the grill. And when you bring them back, they had better be crispy!”

(After a few minutes, the waitress returns with the home fries. The woman starts picking at them with her fork.)

Woman: “These are still not crispy! I told you I wanted them crispy! You get the owner out here right now!”

(The waitress goes to the back of the diner and briefly speaks with the owner, who already knows what’s going on since the place is small and the woman is practically yelling. The owner comes out to the customer’s table.)

Owner: “Ma’am, I’m sor—”

Woman: “This is ridiculous! I don’t know what is wrong with you people that you can’t give a person crispy home fries when they want them!”

Owner: “You won’t be charged for the home fries.”

Woman: “I’m not paying for any of this breakfast! It’s disgusting!”

Owner: *completely fed up* “Fine, then. Get out, and don’t ever come back.”

Woman: “Well, I never! You’re very rude, and I’m going to tell all my friends how you treat your customers, and that they should never give you their business!”

Owner: “Lady, with your rotten attitude, I’m surprised you have any friends!”

(The woman’s jaw dropped, and she got up abruptly and stormed out the door. Everyone in the place heard the exchange, and we all gave the owner the applause she deserved.)

(We’ve had many “customers” use our phone to coordinate drug deals, so we have put a sticker on the phone saying that it is not a public phone. We are allowed to call people cabs but they cannot use the phone themselves. I also sometimes offer to charge their cell phones for them to be able to use if they are polite. I have never seen this woman before in the store. She comes up to the customer service counter. She looks to be in her late 30s, at least.)

Customer: “Hey, can I use the phone to call my boyfriend to come get me?”

Me: “Sorry, but we don’t have a public phone for you to use. I can call you a cab, or I can charge your phone for you here, but I’m not allowed to let you use the phone.”

Customer: “Excuse me? I am a paying customer! I have a full cart of groceries right now in the clothes section! I want to use the phone!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but this is not a public phone, and I cannot let you use it. As I said, I can call you a cab or charge your phone for you.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I understand why you’d say that to people who come in off the street, but I am buying things in the store right now! I want your manager!”

Me: “Okay.”

(I call over my supervisor.)

Me: “She wants to use the phone.”

Supervisor: “Okay.” *starts looking for the portable phone to give to the customer, since my supervisor likes to be nice to everybody*

Customer: “What is taking so long? I just want to use the phone to call my boyfriend! Why can’t I use this one here?” *waits about twenty seconds* “Never mind! I’m never shopping here again!”

(The customer storms off towards the clothes section. About five minutes later, the customer brings back a nearly-full cart which must have taken at least an hour to fill up.)

Customer: “Here you go! I was planning to buy all of this today, but since you are so rude, I’m leaving!”

(She left behind a nearly full drink — from a slightly expensive smoothie place that isn’t near our store — in her cart, covered by her groceries. She never came back for it, so I was happy to throw that into the garbage!)