(I’m a bouncer at a sports bar located just outside of a rough neighborhood. Due to the location, we have a long list of people who are no longer allowed entry for various reasons: starting fights, selling drugs, etc. Because of this, we are required to check every patron’s ID upon entry, regardless of age. One night a staff member, who is white, walks in for his shift, so there is no need for me check his ID. Behind him is a [not Caucasian] man who tries to enter when:)

Me: “Excuse me, sir, but I need to see your ID.”

Customer: “Uh, why?”

Me: “We have a list of people who we are not allowed to let in, and I need to verify that you are not on this list.”

Customer: “Why didn’t you check his ID?” *pointing to the staff member I just let in*

Me: “Because he’s an employee.”

Customer: *raises eyebrow* “Oh, I see; so, because I’m [race], you think I’m on the banned list. Is that it?!”

Me: “Absolutely not. I’m required to check everyone’s ID upon entry.”

Customer: “You racist motherf*****; so, you only check [race] IDs, huh?! I’d like to speak to a manager!”

(I call my manager over and he tells him the same thing: the person I let in was an employee and didn’t need his ID checked.)

Customer: “I don’t care who he is; if he doesn’t need his ID checked, then neither do I!”

Manager: “Sir, I’m sorry, but if you don’t show us your ID, you cannot come into the bar.”

Customer: “This is BULLS***! I’m suing this place for discrimination. I’ll see your a**es in court!”

(The customer angrily stormed off. Later that night, my coworker informed me that the same guy was thrown out two weeks prior for causing a scene when the bartender cut him off. Sure enough, his name was on the banned list.)

(I work at an upscale bar where waitresses wear tight black dresses. The boss is a bit old-school and will only employ pretty college girls. I think he knows our student loans and the average $200 a night in tips are the only things that keep us there. Most customers are nice, classy people, but once in a while we get what we call “frat boy bankers” who drunkenly grope us. We just hired a gorgeous new girl who the frat boys spot and demand come serve them.)

Customer: “Hello, sugar.”

New Girl: “What can I get you?”

Customer: “A piece of this!” *grabs her butt*

New Girl: *uses some sort of cool move to grab his wrist and bend it back painfully* “Get out.”

Customer: “What the h***?! Get me your manager!”

New Girl: *walks to the boss* “I need you to kick out some gropers.”

Boss: “Those guys spend a grand a night.”

New Girl: “They grabbed my a**.”

Boss: “In this job, you just have to deal with things like that. They usually tip a few hundred.”

New Girl: “It is illegal for them to touch me without my consent. Kick them out.”

Boss: “If you want this job, you will march right back over—”

New Girl: “—and even more illegal for you to try and force me into prostitution.”

Boss: “This isn’t prostitution. No cop would arrest—”

New Girl: “You don’t look like I do without getting harassed pretty much every day. I know sexual harassment laws very well. Either kick them out, or I call the cops.”

Boss: *snorts derisively* “This is the real world—”

New Girl: *holds up phone* “And I have our conversation on tape. Now, get them out.”

(A week later we had a new manager, and she kicks out anyone who so much as makes lewd comments.)

(I’m running and playing in a poker night at a pub, with a fixed pot of about £40. I go to raise on one hand and count the chips as I’m putting them in.)

Me: “I raise to… four… six… nine-hundred.”

Player: “That doesn’t count! The rules say you have to put it in in one movement. The casinos wouldn’t allow it!”

Me: “Yes, but we’re not in the casinos; we’re in the pub and it doesn’t matter that much. You’re not even in this hand.”

Player: “It does matter. Rules are important.”

Me: “So… Shall we agree to play by casino rules from now on?”

Player: “Yes!”

Me: “All right.”

(A few hands later, it’s my turn to deal. Everyone folds on the flop.)

Player: “So, what would have come up then?”

Me: “I can’t show you that.”

Player: “I just want to see what I would have got.”

Me: “We agreed to play by casino rules. You can’t flip through dead hands. It’s known as ‘rabbit hunting.’”

(Later:)

Player: “All in.”

Me: “Put them in, then.”

Player: “We’ll sort that out afterwards.”

Me: “No. Casino rules say only chips beyond the line count.”

(He tries to put his chips in, a couple of stacks at a time.)

Me: “And you have to do it in one movement, too.”

(I’m in the local pub late at night, just having a quiet night. A guy comes running in and comes up to another guy at the bar, asking for a cigarette.)

Guy At The Bar: “Yeah, whatever. Why are you running about, anyway?”

Guy Who Ran In: “I just robbed [Supermarket]!”

Guy At The Bar: “Yeah, yeah, and I’m the queen. Do you have a lighter?”

(They both go out, as it’s illegal to smoke inside. There’s a bit of commotion when the guy from the bar comes in looking annoyed. He picks up his stuff.)

Guy At The Bar: “He did just f****** rob [Supermarket], didn’t he? I’ve got to give a f****** statement now.”

Barman: “Have a nice night, Your Majesty.”

(I started a new job as a receptionist at a local law firm about three months ago. I have had no experience in a law environment prior to this job, and my general understanding of law is that of the average individual. One evening after work, I meet up with a few friends for drinks. One of them starts talking about her ongoing issues with her ex-boyfriend.)

Friend: “[My Name], what do you think I should do?”

Me: “Honestly, I think you should have hired an attorney back when he stopped paying his child support. I imagine it will only get worse from here on out.”

Friend: “Yeah, but I can’t afford to hire an attorney. Isn’t there something I can do?”

Me: “I’m sure there is, but what that is, I cannot tell you.”

Friend: “Can’t or won’t?”

Me: *taken aback* “I mean that I do not know the answer.”

Friend: “But you work at a law firm!”

Me: “That doesn’t mean I instantly know anything more about law than you do.”

Friend: “But you’re smart. You’ve certainly picked something up by now?”

Me: “According to that logic, you should book your son’s next check up with someone who works in the maintenance department or the billing department at [Major Hospital].”

Friend: “That’s stupid, though. Why would you think they’d know anything about medicine?”

Everyone Else At The Table: “EXACTLY!”