(I’m shopping with my boyfriend, who goes into another aisle to browse. A large man walks up to me. My boyfriend’s basically the definition of a geek: skinny and pale. He’s also so sweet and reserved that he’s hesitant to hurt insects.)

Guy: “Hey, babe. Come here often?”

(I do my best to ignore him and go about picking books.)

Guy: “Cold shoulder, huh? Come on, babe. Don’t be like that.”

(I put the book back and shoot him a glare.)

Me: “I’m here with my boyfriend. If you’re looking for love you should go look somewhere else.”

(I see his face scrunch up in anger. About the same time my boyfriend walks up. I assume he’s been listening from the other aisle.)

Boyfriend: “Who is this guy?”

Guy: “Wait, your boyfriend’s this pasty runt? Girl, step aside. I’m gonna kick this geek’s a**.”

Me: “No, you are not!”

(I stand between them. The guy shoves me aside into the bookshelf. It falls over on top of me. I’m dazed by the force and can’t think straight. I just hear a lot of loud noises and screaming and fear the worst. By the time I pick myself up, I see my boyfriend with a welt on his face. He is standing over the the guy who attacked us, who is laying on the ground unconscious with his arm obviously broken at the elbow.)

Me: “What happened?!”

(My boyfriend puts his head down and starts whimpering.)

Boyfriend: “I… he… he pushed you and I just got really upset. I kept thinking that he may have hurt you and it made me get angry. Next thing I knew, I just… did that.”

(My boyfriend seemed legitimately upset that he hurt the man, even if it was in my defense. An employee who had watched the whole thing called for the police and some paramedics. After reviewing the security footage, the police deemed my boyfriend acted in self-defense and wasn’t going to be charged. The guy was arrested for assault and battery. We’ve been happily married for three years now. He’s still reserved and the definition of a pacifist, but he’s made it no secret that he’d fight a giant to protect me again if it came down to it.)

(I am working behind the counter when I see my boss come up to me.)

Boss: “Where’s [Coworker]? She’s supposed to be in today.”

Me: “I think she’s at her grandma’s funeral.”

Boss: “Well, she should come in anyway. Where is she by the way?”

Me: “She’s in Hollywood, Florida. It’s going to be a long car trip back, unless she takes a plane. And anyway, she’s at a FUNERAL.”

Boss: “I didn’t go to MY grandma’s funeral when she died. I don’t see why SHE should.”

(I leave it at that. When my coworker comes back two days later, she walks up to my counter, in her uniform, tired, worn out, red-faced. We begin talking when my boss storms over.)

Boss: “[Coworker!] You lazy, f****** b****!”

(My boss slams his hand down on the glass counter, making us, a nearby worker, and even customers jump.)

Boss: “Why the h*** didn’t you come in on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday!?”

Coworker: “I had to go to Grandma’s funeral!”

Boss: “That’s no excuse! While you went off and sunned yourself in Los Angeles, we were working hard trying to get ready for the Christmas sale!”

Me: “One, she was at her GRANDMA’S funeral! The woman she looked up to! Two, I said Hollywood, FLORIDA.”

Boss: “Still a hot state. Listen, you stupid girl, you just want time off! Well let me tell you something: if you think you’re getting a secret Santa you’ve got another thing coming!”

(He goes off. My coworker is in tears, but she’s so scared of him she doesn’t dare take time off to recover. I go up to my boss and ask again.)

Me: “Why were you horrible?”

Boss: “It’s her GRANDMA. For God’s sake, she knew the woman was going to die before her! Why get so attached to someone when you know they’ll die before you?”

Me: “You’re just horrible!”

(I see my boss later, talking to another employee. I see [Coworker] is trying to sign herself out for the day when I go over. Then my boss calls me.)

Boss: “[My Name]!”

Me: “What?!”

Boss: “Why is [Coworker] so down? I mean, it’s her GRANDMA! I didn’t cry when mine died and I certainly didn’t go to the funeral. I hadn’t seen her in 20 years and I so wasn’t going to! Anyway, last time I saw her she set her pitbull on me.”

Me: “That’s because [Coworker] LOVED her grandma and her grandma supported her through school, college and getting her new job. She actually liked her!”

Boss: “So… she HASN’T celebrated?”

Me: “[Coworker] definitely HAS NOT! She’s really upset about this and I think you should say sorry.”

(Later, I heard my boss took time off and wouldn’t be coming back until after Christmas. He said he needed time alone.)

(A customer with rather large breasts approaches me.)

Customer: “Excuse me; can you help me please?”

Me: “Of course, ma’am. What can I help you find today?”

Customer: “I’m looking for books about plastic surgery.”

Me: “Ah, I see. Well, let’s just look on the computer and see what we can come up with. Do you have a particular area you’re interested in reading about?”

Customer: “I bet you can’t guess!”

Me: “I wouldn’t want to be forward!”

Customer: “Well, breast reduction surgery, then. Shy, aren’t you?”

Me: “Just a little, yes. Let’s see what I can find.”

Customer: “I’m always having back problems! These are just too big; I want to see if I can get them smaller.”

Me: “It’s probably best to check with a doctor first, but maybe we can find something that will help you know what questions to ask.”

Customer: “Well, don’t you agree they’re too big?”

Me: “Er, again, I wouldn’t like to be forward.”

Customer: “Oh, come on. You can touch them and see how big they are for yourself!”

Me: “WHAT!”

Customer: “C’mon, touch ’em!”

(The customer reaches for my wrist.)

Me: “No, that’s okay!”

Customer: “TOUCH MY PUPPIES!”

Me: “Let me see if I can find someone more experienced with this.”

Customer: “Why won’t shy guys touch my breasts!?”

(I’m a temp at a bookstore at the local university with less than a week until classes start.)

Me: “Thank you for calling the text department; how may I help you?”

Caller: “Yes, do I have to be with my son when he picks up his textbooks?”

Me: “No, ma’am. If he ordered them online, he can pick them up at—”

Caller: “No, he hasn’t ordered them yet.”

Me: “Well, ma’am, if he has his class schedule, he can come in to the bookstore to get his books.”

Caller: “Are they ready for him?”

Me: “…excuse me?”

Caller: “Isn’t that what you do? You get all the students’ book lists and put their books together for them!”

Me: “No, ma’am. We’re just here to help if the student needs help.”

Caller: “So now I have to come in and get my son’s books?!”

Me: “No, ma’am. He can get his own—”

Caller: “You are a GROSS WASTE of my time!”

(I overhear a mom talking to her young boy while browsing in a bookstore.)

Mom: “Okay [Name], we will go here in a minute.”

Boy: “I have to go NOW!”

Mom: “What do we say when we want something?”

Boy: “Mom, can you PLEASE take me to the bathroom?”

Mom: “Sure.”

(About five minutes pass…)

Boy: “Thanks for taking me to the bathroom, Mom. I feel much better!”

Mom: “You’re welcome.”

Boy: “Oh, hey Mom?”

Mom: “Yes?”

Boy: “Thanks for wiping my a** in there too!”