(It is early in my first semester of college. I am young and not yet used to the more relaxed atmosphere of most college classes, or the concept of seeing older students as my equals. I am in an English Lit class where I am too shy to speak to most people, sitting next to a guy who is at least half a decade older than me. One day he walks in and sits down and I notice what looks like an actual bee sitting on his head. It looks incredibly real so I don’t think it’s fake, but it doesn’t move or twitch in the slightest while I look at it. The guy also likes to wear a number of different baubles and patches and such, so I wouldn’t put it outside the realm of possibility for him to stick a realistic-looking insect in his hair. I spend the entire hour-and-a-half class sneaking glances at the bee to see if it moves, which it never does. As class is almost over, my curiosity drives me enough to actually ask him:)

Me: *pointing at my own head* “Um, are you aware you have a bee in your hair?”

Guy: *laughs* “Haha, what?”

(He wipes his hand over his head to knock the bee to the floor, where it suddenly begins flailing and trying to stand. The guy curses and stomps on it, then looks at me.)

Guy: “How long was that thing on me?!”

Me: “I’m guessing since the last time you were outside.”

(I take my two-and-a-half-year-old son to the grocery store and park next to the cart corral in the middle of the lot. I take a cart out of the corral, bring it the far door of the car, and start getting my son out and settled in.)

Random Customer: “Hey! They have special parking for people with small kids up at the front, you should park up there.”

Me: “Oh, I know, but this is actually easier for me, as I don’t have to carry him or let him walk through the parking lot when I’m getting a cart or putting it away. Thanks, though.”

Random Customer: *getting more aggressive sounding* “But they have special parking, just for you! The store won’t let people without kids park there; we all have to walk so far and you’re not even parking there.”

Me: “There is no law about those spots; if you want to park there go ahead. It’s just a courtesy gesture. Take my spot if you want.”

Random Customer: “It makes no sense, the store won’t let us park there, we all have to walk, and you won’t even use it. Inconsiderate b****!”

(My son is starting to cry. I am getting stressed and thinking of just leaving when a store employee with the lot vest on comes jogging up, asking if everything is okay, causing the glowering customer to wander off. I tell the employee what was happening and he escorts us into the store, making faces with my son, getting him to giggle, and basically calming us down. As we are checking out after shopping, the same employee comes up, gives my son a couple of helium balloons, and makes excuses to walk us back out to our car. As I’m unloading the cart my son — who’s really big into following all the rules — notices the same customer has unloaded his groceries a ways off.)

Son: “Mommy, the mean man didn’t put his cart away; he left it out!”

Employee: “That’s okay. I’ll get it put away first so no one scratches their car.”

Son: “Mommy says it’s rude to leave the cart out; people could get hurt or hurt their car.” *calling out to the customer* “It’s rude to leave your cart out. You should put it away!”

(The customer looked over, saw who was calling to him, and got an embarrassed look on his face before squealing out so quickly that he turned too sharp and scraped the side of his car down the cart he had left in the next parking spot. Just as well that it wasn’t another car or a person he couldn’t be bothered to avoid hitting. Maybe he has learned not to shop angry!)

(I work in fast food, and I am naturally used to customers who aren’t paying attention and give answers that make no sense to the question. This customer is a really special case, though. I have just started getting ready to get toppings on their sandwich.)

Me: “All right, what else would you like on here?”

Customer: “Soup.”

(I am a little confused, but I figure they are simply getting ahead of themselves.)

Me: “No, no. I meant on your sandwich?”

Customer: “Soup.”

Me: “What would you like on your sandwich?”

Customer: “Soup!”

(I’m absolutely confused, and I actually think they want me to put a bowlful of soup on their sandwich, but before I do, I try to clarify.)

Me: “Sorry… So… you want soup on your sandwich“

Customer: “What the f*** are you going on about? Who the actual f*** would want something like that. Are you f****** stupid?”

(All this time, there was another customer waiting next in line, laughing at this exchange.)

(I am walking down the street in a moderately busy tourist town. A family — consisting of a mother, a father, two young children, and a toddler in the mother’s arms — steps out of a shop and notices an ice cream parlor on the other side of the street. They stand there looking at it, and I overhear this, all delivered in different tones as if a conversation were taking place.)

Mother: “Ice cream…”

Child #1: “Ice cream?”

Child #2: “Ice cream!”

Mother: “Ice cream.”

Toddler: “Ice cweam.”

(There is a pause during which none of them speaks.)

Child #1: “Ice cream.”

Mother: *pause* “Ice cream.”

Child #2: “Ice. Cream.”

Mother: “Ice cream.”

(I just kept walking.)

(I work in a sub shop. There are a lot of shady people in this part of town. Most are rough around the edges, but despite this, you get customers that make you panic. It’s a very hot summer day, and a customer walks in wearing a thick coat, with his hand in his pocket, clearly holding something bulky with weight. This already sets off a few red flags for me. The customer walks in but doesn’t join the lineup, rather just starts pacing around the cash register. His eyes are constantly shifting between all the people in the store, though he refuses to make direct eye contact.)

Me: “Hello. If you’re going to be getting something I need you to join the rest of the lineup.”

Customer: *ignores my statement*

(I start trying to finish orders so other customers can leave the store ASAP; they also seem to be getting nervous about this person. As soon as I finish the last customer, while my coworker rings them through the till, I start stepping around the corner to grab my phone and keep an eye on the situation. The customer proceeds to walk up to the register, hand still on whatever is in his pocket. My coworker and I exchange a nervous glance.)

Customer: *quickly pulls an item from pocket* “Hi, I would like to get some cash for these rolls of coins.”

(My coworker and I looked at the thirty or so full rolls of change. This is what he’d had in his pocket, to our collective relief. After we made the exchange, we talked to each other about how we had both thought it was a gun.)