Marriage Has Grey Areas

| London, England, UK | Right | December 12, 2012

(I’m at a bookstore, witnessing an exchange taking place between an employee and a middle-aged male customer.)

Customer: “Excuse me, do you know where your copies of 50 Shades of Grey are?”

Employee: “Sure, they’re over there.”

(The customer walks over to the indicated shelf and picks up a copy.)

Customer: “Right, anniversary present… sorted!”

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Top Shelf Morals, Bottom Shelf Attitude

| Medford, MA, USA | Right | December 9, 2012

(I am stocking magazines at a bookstore when two young boys reach high up on the shelves and grab adult magazines. They hunch over and open the magazines to gawk at the photos.)

Me: “Excuse me, are you guys 18 or over?”

Boy #1: “Why, what’s it to you?”

Me: “It’s my job, actually. If you’re not 18, you can’t even touch those. Would you put that magazine back, please?”

Boy #2: “I’m 18.”

(Boy #2 is obviously about 12 or 13 from his height and appearance.)

Me: “Really? What year were you born?”

Boy #2: “None of your business!”

Me: “Okay, both of you put those magazines back, right now.”

Boy #1: “I’m 18, too.”

(Just then, a young mother carrying a baby and a diaper bag approaches the counter a few feet away.)

Young Mother: *to cashier* “Can I ask you for a certain book?”

Cashier: “Sure, what are you looking for?”

Young Mother: “It’s called ‘How to Raise a Moral Child‘.”

(Boy #1 and Boy #2 burst out laughing, catching the attention of the young mother, who looks over disapprovingly. The boys laugh and turn away from her, now facing me.)

Me: *arms crossed, leaning in* “How about now?”

(They stop laughing abruptly, put the magazines back on the nearest shelf, and slink out.)

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Brace Yourself

| USA | Romantic | December 5, 2012

(I own and run the bookshop, and my friend is visiting me. My friend is female, fairly short and very thin. She has to wear a very noticeable hinged brace on her knee due to a childhood sports injury, but she is by no means helpless. I am male, a foot and a half taller than my friend, and in very good physical condition. I am is also well trained in hand-to-hand combat. A customer is in the shop, and approaches my friend, who is trying to find a book on the shelves.)

Customer: *approaches and shoves her* “Move, b****.”

Friend: “Hey! What’s your problem, man?”

Customer: “I needed to check this shelf for the book I needed and you were in the way.”

Friend: “And you couldn’t just politely ask me to move?”

Customer: “You don’t have to be nice to whores.”

Friend: “Excuse me?!”

Customer: “Well, that’s the only reason a woman would need a brace like that, if you were on your knees all the time. Only w****s are on their knees all the time.”

Friend: *trying not to lose her temper* “You do realize, don’t you, that there are a multitude of injuries that would establish a need for this sort of brace?”

Customer: “How dare you talk back to me, you fat b****!” *tries to slap her*

Me: *sneaking up on him and grabbing his wrist* “Not to be clichéd, but you owe her an apology.”

Customer: “No, I don’t! Why the h*** would I have to apologize?”

Me: “First, for shoving her. You had no business putting your hands on her. Second, for calling her a whore. You were being extremely disrespectful, and that’s something I don’t tolerate from my customers. Third, I’d bet your leg alone weighs more than she does. Again, you were being rude.”

(He takes a swing at me.)

Me: *puts him in a headlock* “Sir, you have two options. Both of them involve leaving, but whether you leave vertically or horizontally is up to you.”

Customer: “F*** you! You can’t do s*** to me!”

(I escort him, still in the headlock, to the front of the store and out the door.)

Me: “You are not welcome here. Don’t ever come back.”

(My friend and I started dating not long after that, and I’m asking her to marry me tonight.)

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Admitting Defeat Was An Easy Thing Touché

| Boston, MA, USA | Right | November 29, 2012

(The owner of the bookstore where I work is very old and walks with a cane. Despite this, he always wanders the shelves and helps out patrons. Behind the counter, in a glass case, he keeps an assortment of trophies and medals he won in his youth. One night, someone decides to try to steal them.)

Owner: “I’m sorry, but you can’t be behind the counter.”

Robber: *smashing the glass* “F*** you, old man! Just stay away and don’t do anything stupid!”

(The robber sweeps the medals into his backpack and then tries to open the till.)

Owner: “Stop that, young man! You’re making a terrible mistake!”

Robber: *waves a large knife* “Yeah, well so are you! Back off! How do you open this f***ing thing?””

Owner: “Take a look at all those medals.”

Robber: “What? Just open the f***ing cash register!”

Owner: *very calmly* “Just take a look.”

Robber: *confused* “Uh, okay. Yeah, they’re gold. That’s why I took them, you a**hole. Gold fencing, gold fencing, silver fencing…”

(The owner gracefully draws the sword from his sword-cane.)

Robber: “Oh, please! Try that stuff in a real fight and you’ll just get kill—”

(With a flick of his weapon, the owner removes the robber’s glasses.)

Robber: *drops the knife* “Don’t hurt me!” *drops to his knees*

(I had called the police as soon as the knife came out. They arrive and identify the robber as a serial burglar who had stabbed a previous victim. Years later, at the owner’s retirement party, he recounts the story.)

Owner: “You know, hearing that story makes me think of two things. One, I wish a fencing judge had been there so I could have gotten the gold for that bout, and two, I missed the only time in my life when I could have asked someone if they called that a knife.”

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Needs A Stern Conversation With Her Son

| Medford, MA, USA | Right | November 28, 2012

(It is 1993. I am working the register when an elderly woman comes up to the counter.)

Customer: “Do you have that book, Body Parts?”

Me: “Hmm, I don’t know that one by name, but let’s see if we can find it. Who’s the author?”

Customer: “I don’t know. It’s that new story, Body PartsBody Parts.”

Me: “Hmm, okay, just give me one second to look it up so we can find it on the shelves. All our fiction is alphabetical by author.”

(I look it up in our primitive computer, and find an old book.)

Me: “Well, I don’t have that book here, but I can order it for you. It would take one to two weeks.”

Customer: “Why don’t you have it? My son says it’s a bestseller! You should have a lot of them! He saw it here and I want to get it for him for his birthday!”

Me: “Actually, it’s a few years old and we haven’t had it in the store for some time now. When’s his birthday? Maybe I can get it in time.”

Customer: “No, he saw it here yesterday! Body Parts! It’s a bestseller.”

Me: *flash of recognition* “Wait, a bestseller, right? Are you looking for Private Parts by Howard Stern?”

Customer: “That’s what I said! Private Parts! Private Parts!”

(The woman is now yelling the correct name of the book. Other customers turn to look and giggle.)

Me: “Of course, Private Parts. Sorry, I must have heard you wrong. Right this way.”

(I bring her to the best sellers rack and hand her a copy of the book. The cover has a photo of the disk jockey Howard Stern, naked, but holding a cloth over his private parts.)

Me: “Is this the book?”

Customer: *squints through her glasses at the book* “Oh! This is disgusting! Ugh! My no-good son’s gonna get it!”

(She drops the book on the floor and walks out in a huff.)

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