(I go into a bar I frequent. I had lost my wallet a few days earlier, but I know most of the bartenders, so I didn’t expect them to ask for identification. The woman working doesn’t recognize me, and asks for my ID. Also, I’m a 23-year-old white woman.)

Me: “I think I actually have my passport in my car. Hold on.”

(I go get it and show the bartender.)

Bartender: *not amused* “This isn’t you.”

Me: “No, it is…”

(I get this almost every time I show my passport, because it is an old picture and it really doesn’t look that much like me.)

Bartender: “Is this even real?”

(Now, I’m offended.)

Me: “It’s definitely me. I come here all the time and we went to [Community College] together!”

Bartender: “No, we didn’t. And this is DEFINITELY not you.”

Me: “It is! Look at the date it was issued. Look at my birth date. That picture was taken when I was 17. I’m 24 now, a little heavier, and my hair is longer and less pink, but it is DEFINITELY me!”

Bartender: “This is you?”

(She turns the passport to me and shows me the picture, one of an older man of Middle Eastern descent with a Saudi Arabian name and an impressive beard. A friend of mine had put his passport in my glove box months ago and then apparently forgot about it.)

Me: “You’re right; that’s not me.”

(Luckily, I had my actual passport, and was able to return my friend’s with an awesome story. With any luck at all, the bartender will fail to remember me again next time I go in.)

(I’m quite well-known in the social circle in a certain pub, and although I’m not close to anyone I tend to get on well with every other regular. On this night, there’s a pub quiz. The question was about boats.)

Guy #1: “Hmm… Oh, I think the answer is ‘canoe’!”

Guy #2: “Could be. We going to go with that?”

(We all agree and the group leader writes ‘kanoo.’)

Me: “Oh, that’s spelled “C.A.N.O.E.”

Group Leader: *stares at me* “Oh. Well, I’m not good at spelling. I’m dyslexic.”

Me: *slightly awkward* “Sorry, didn’t know that.”

Guy #2: “I am too, actually.”

Me: *joking* “Heh, don’t tell me I’m the spelling smarta** in a group of dyslexics!”

Guy #3: “Well, actually…”

Guy #4: “Pretty much, yeah.”

(I was far too embarrassed to think of a decent way to reply! Whoops.)

(It is my last week working as a waiter at a nice restaurant/bar before heading off to college. Late Friday afternoon, eight men in suits and ties come in for food and drinks. A couple minutes after serving their cocktails, one of them calls me to the table, stands up, and starts shouting.)

Customer: “What’s the meaning of this? There’s a bug in my drink!”

Me: “I’m so sorry sir. I’ve never seen that happen before.”

(For the next five minutes he rants and raves. I apologize every time he’ll let me get a word in, but he won’t let up. He’s apparently trying to impress his companions, but they’re all rolling their eyes in embarrassment at his hysterics. Finally, he reaches the end of his tantrum.)

Customer: “You should be fired for serving a drink with a bug in it. It’s completely unacceptable. Take this back and bring me another one. Get me another one, right now!”

Me: “Certainly, sir. Of course.”

Me: *turns to leave, hesitates, turns back to the customer* “To make sure I’ve got this right, sir, is that another bug or another drink you would like?”

Customer: “…”

Companions: *burst out laughing*

(The customer turns red. He never said another word. The group left me a nice tip.)

(I and my friend are in a different city on a holiday and decide to go out for a few drinks. We get our drinks and sit down at a table when we are approached by two men.)

Man: “Hey, there. I’m [Man]. What brings you here tonight?”

Me: “We came up here for a holiday. I’m [My Name] and this is [Friend].”

Man: “You look young but, well, if you bought a drink you must be over age.” *laughs*

(My friend and I are a bit uncomfortable at this point. We are only 19 and this man is clearly quite a lot older. My friend goes to the bathroom. This man keeps talking to me and all I want to do is finish my drink and leave.)

Man: “Do you watch p*rn?”

Me: “What?”

Man: “It isn’t something to be embarrassed about. It is natural. I watch p*rn all the time but not for pleasure. I want to direct p*rn.”

(This man is really starting to freak me out. I go to the bathroom and find my friend still in there. We know this guy doesn’t want to leave us alone so we plan for her to pretend to get a call and say we have to leave for an emergency. We go back to the table and I stay while my friend gets this fake call.)

Man: “So, how old are you?”

Me: “19. How about you?”

Man: “Oh, it doesn’t matter. I live a bit out of town, you know. I have to catch a train to get home. Where are you staying?”

(At this point my friend came back with the fake emergency and we got the h*** out of there. The ‘p*rn guy’ is still a joke we have between us but I am just glad it is something we can joke about and it didn’t end up more serious!)

(It’s early afternoon, and loads of children are around with their families. A rap song starts, with REALLY clear lyrics about explicit and hardcore sex.)

Me: “Are you serious? With children around?”

DJ: *confusion*

Me: “This song is about sex. F*****g! Serious f*****g! Naked people. Marriage stuff!”

DJ: “Oh!”

(He quickly puts on Cher!)