(I am a teaching assistant for a freshman core American History course that everyone has to take, regardless of major. For the most part, the teaching assistants actually teach the courses with professors overseeing us. A freshman in my course thinks that he is smarter than everyone else, in general, but especially within the course, and has been a snot all semester. On the last essay, he affixes a fantastically entertaining letter about how I am stupid. He tells me, in short, that he hates my guts, and that he knows I am going to give him a bad grade on the essay because I am not intelligent enough to grasp the complexities of his thesis. Knowing that no matter how I grade it, it is not going to be an unbiased score, I give it to the professor. The professor demands the student apologize or he will fail him in the course. He gives the essay a fair score of a B-minus, because it isn’t actually that groundbreaking. Fast-forward a few years. I’m working with a professor in the life sciences department in their research lab. This same student comes through the lab one day with my professor. Apparently, he is interviewing to work with the professor in the research lab also, and is being shown the lab. The student has a complete deer-in-the-headlights look as he recognizes me.)

Me: “Hello, [Student].”

Student: “You work with Dr. [Professor]?”

Professor: “Oh, this is [My Name]. She’s quite indispensable around here. Her scientific work is superb, and she’s a very organized lab manager. She does all the ordering, purchasing, and administrative work for me. Do you know each other?”

Me: “Oh, briefly. He was a student of mine in [Course].”

(After the student leaves, I tell my professor all the details. This is the email that he then sends to the student:)

Email: “Dear Mr. [Student],

After careful consideration, and a candid conversation with my current research assistant, [My Name], I will not be extending an invitation for you to join my lab team at this time, or at any time in the future. I do not welcome toxicity in my lab.  

Let this be a lesson to you. Never burn bridges. You don’t know when you might need them again.“

(My mom gets a phone call from someone claiming to be a credit card company.)

Scammer: “Do you recognize a transaction of $300 at [location] on [date]?”

Mom: “No.”

Scammer: “Well, I’m going to need your credit card number to verify your account.”

Mom: “How about this: why don’t I get your name and call [Credit Card Company] myself?”

Scammer: “F*** YOU! I HAVE A BIG C***!”

(My mom was so stunned she just hung up.)

(I work in a large retail chain in Australia. As it is currently summer here, my long work pants are really hot. I’m in the store I work in, after my shift — so, still dressed in uniform — looking for a suitable skirt to buy and wear on my shifts and not boil my legs. A lady approaches me.)

Customer: “Could you help me find [pants] in size 12?”

Me: “Of course. Let me check the tag.”

(I find the pants quite quickly and show her we have sizes 6-22 — in Australian sizes this basically means there would be a pair to fit the vast majority of people — while handing her size 12.)

Customer: “And what about the top I asked for?”

(I’m certain she said nothing about a top to me, and she refuses to “repeat” herself. I tell her that in that case, there’s nothing more I can do for her and continue my own shopping. She doesn’t say anything but follows me around for the full ten minutes it takes me to find a suitable skirt. It’s pretty creepy.)

Customer: “Carrying that handbag, you almost look like you’re shopping!” *laughs*

Me: “I am shopping.”

Customer: *laughs*

(I’m apparently hilarious without even knowing it.)

Customer: *whining* “I really need that top!”

(I directed her to speak to my manager at the fitting rooms. She demanded my help. I repeated that my shift was finished, I really was just shopping, and I was helping her out of the goodness of my heart and without being paid. She complained to my very short-tempered manager about my “conduct,” and the manager reaffirmed that I was shopping, not working. This set off the ultimate conundrum in the customer’s mind and she got more and more agitated until she was removed by security for attempting to cut people with disposable razors. It was the craziest thing I’d ever seen. My coworkers and I still lunge at each other with [packaged, completely harmless] disposable razors for a joke.)

(I am waiting at a doctor’s office. I have heard some crazy things at this place, but this is pretty nuts, even by their standards. A man is sitting in the waiting room, talking to the receptionist. He’s in his twenties.)

Man: “Can you give me some birth control?”

Receptionist: *looks at him a bit strangely* “Okay.”

Man: “Like, the copper thingy?”

Me: “That’s for girls.”

Man: “Jesus! Why are you so f****** sexist? You dumb b****! I can get it, too, if I want it!”

Receptionist: “Um, actually—”

Man: “I DON’T WANT TO GET PREGNANT!”

(After the release of a certain explicit movie based on a book, my cinema chain has cracked down on checking IDs to make sure we don’t receive fines for underage viewers. A group of teenage girls, who are clearly between 16 and 18, approach the counter. I know I have to ask them for ID, but because they are so excited and I need to get through a busy queue quickly, I internally decide that if just one of them can show me they’re over the age, then I will let the others slide.)

Me: “I’m going to need to see some ID before I can sell the tickets to you.”

Girl #1: *smug* “Well, I’ll show you mine, since I’m buying them.”

Me: “Sure, whatever.” *takes offered driving license*

Girl #1: “So, how much?”

Me: “Uh, this says you’re seventeen. I can’t let you in. Sorry.”

Girl #1: “What? Let me see that!”

(She snatches back her license and studies it. I watch as her eyes widen in understanding.)

Girl #2: “[Girl #1], what’s the problem? You said you’d make sure that we could get in.”

Girl #1: *in undertone* “S***, I gave the real one.” *to me in normal voice* “Hey, can I give you my other ID?”

Me: “You’re asking if you can give me your other ID that has a different age on it?”

Girl #1: “Yes!”

Me: “No. See you later.”

(Nice try!)