(I have just come back to my desk with a carton of milk to fill up my cereal, which I keep in my desk drawer so people won’t try to steal it. I take a mouthful, and while I’m chewing my coworker starts talking to me.)

Coworker: “That is disgusting!”

(I stare at her while I chew.)

Coworker: “How many cows did you rape to fill up your bowl?!”

(Realising what she’s getting at, I tap the top of the carton which is still on my desk.)

Coworker: “Just because we’re the most evolved doesn’t mean we have the right to hurt and murder and rape our fellow creatures. You should be ashamed! Try some f****** vegan options, for once. It won’t kill you!”

(This entire time, while finishing my chewing, I have been steadily tapping the carton more loudly. She finally clocks on.)

Coworker: “And why are you smacking your bottle of cow’s blood? Are you trying to make me sick?”

Me: *swallowing* “It’s coconut milk. I’m lactose intolerant.”

Coworker: *suddenly happy* “Oh, that’s great! Can I try some?”

Me: “No, not after that steaming pile of ‘attitude’ you just unloaded.”

(I leave and finish my breakfast in the kitchen. I put my milk back in the fridge and get on with my day. Around lunchtime, I go back into the kitchen and find the same coworker looking at my milk with a sour face.)

Coworker: “How can something vegan taste so horrible?”

Me: “I didn’t say you could try that.”

(She jumped, dropped and spilled the milk on the floor, and ran past me, not a word of an apology or anything. I reported her for using someone else’s food, and she was put on probation. She tried to retaliate, saying it was because she was vegan, but then a lot of other coworkers came forward saying she had done the same with their food on finding out it, too, was vegan. They were afraid that if they said something they would get in trouble because of her privileged attitude; I just happened to be the one to open the floodgates. She still works here, but she has a very close eye kept on her, and I just bring in a small beaker every morning with my milk instead of a whole carton.)

Customer: “Hi, can I have a cinnamon roll and a decaf?”

Me: “Sure.”

Coworker: *to me* “Hey, Isis, can you help me after [Owner] leaves?”

Me: “Sure.”

Customer: “Why did he call you that?”

Me: “It’s my name.”

Customer: *disgusted* “Well, why the h*** haven’t you changed it?!”

Me: “Because it’s my name, and I had it first.”

Customer: “But people will think you’re a terrorist! If you want a goddess’s name, have Diana or Freya, but seriously, get rid of that s*** name!”

Coworker: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “As if! I paid for my food and I’m getting it.”

Me: *slightly upset* “It’s okay, [Coworker]; I’m going to go on break.”

Customer: “Change it!”

Coworker: “Leave before I call the cops. This is your last chance.”

Customer: “You’re going to have a nasty life if you keep that!”

(He stormed out, snatching a cinnamon roll and another customer’s decaf before going. When the cops did arrest him, he said that he paid for them and that everyone was going to think I was “un-American.” I’m fine. It’s my name and nobody’s going to make me change it.)

(I have graduated from high school early, and I’m starting college. I’m barely 16 years old, and my mom is a broke single mother. For my graduation, she buys me a $400 used car, and I apply for financial aid so I can go to college. Part of my financial aid is a work-study job in the college cafeteria. My shift is supposed to be from 6:00 to 10:00 in the morning, but since I have a 10:00 class, the manager moves my shift to 5:45 to 9:45 so I can make it to class on time. Serving breakfast to surly college students is NOT fun, and almost every day, the boss gives me too much to do, so I’m late getting out of work. Now, I am in danger of being dropped from my class for excessive tardiness. I ask my mother for permission to quit my job and look for another one, and she says yes. I go to my boss.)

Me: “I’m sorry, but I need to quit this job. It’s interfering with my schoolwork and I need to get good grades.”

Boss: “You really need to stay and finish the job. Otherwise, all your life, you will feel like a quitter. I don’t accept your resignation.”

Me: *is stunned into silence*

(I go home and told my mom what happened. She gives me permission to stop going to work, so I go to class instead. Two days later, my boss calls me.)

Boss: “I’m sorry, but due to your attendance, I’m going to have to let you go.”

Me: “I can’t say I’m sorry about this. I quit two days ago, remember?”

(It took me years to get over feeling ashamed of losing one of my first jobs, but now when I think back on it, I’m proud that I stood up for myself.)

My sister’s wealthy friend has a villa in Dominican Republic. We love to travel, so we pay her to rent it for a week. She sends us pictures and says that she herself vacations there and that it’s lovely. We trust her because she’s a friend who enjoys the luxurious life.

However, things aren’t so great when we arrive. The place is infested by bees and hand-sized spiders, the electricity is wired badly so we get shocked from turning off the lights, and the air conditioning is poor in this 90 F weather, so we’re sweating everywhere. We are glad to return home, and when we do, the friend sends us an email.

Email: “How was your trip? Be sure to send a good review on [Website]!”

We do send a review, but not a good one. The friend is not pleased and doesn’t speak to us anymore, calling us too spoiled. Maybe we’re spoiled, but it really was awful enough to ruin our vacation!

(I’m a carer for a young man who has autism. Like a lot of autistic children, he can be picky about what he will and will not eat. As a reward for recent good behaviour, I take him to the local fish and chips shop for some hot chips.)

Server: “What can I get you?”

Me: “Can I please have a large chips, no salt?”

(The server sighs and stalks away. I think it is weird, but I let it go. The server cooks up a fresh order of fries… only to add salt to them.)

Me: “Sorry, but it was a large chips with no salt.”

Server: “Oh. I forgot. No big deal, though, right?” *tries to give me the chips*

Me: “No. Big deal. I need you to make a fresh order with no salt, please.”

Server: “C’mon, I know that this is just a ploy that people do to get a fresh batch of chips, and you’re just going to add salt to them. You saw me cook them fresh, so it’s fine.”

Me: “No. If I give [Boy] chips with salt, he will lick off the salt and not eat the chips. Please give me what I ordered, or I’ll be forced to ask for a manager.”

(The server sighed, rolled her eyes and muttered up a storm, but eventually she gave me an order of saltless fries. I think I’ll try somewhere else to get hot chips, next time.)