I worked as a manager in a busy Boston shopping and tourist spot in the mid-1990s. The shop was three floors: two above ground, open to the public, and a floor below ground for employees accessible through two locked doors and a narrow spiral staircase. Outside of the door on the top level were public restrooms.

It was a very busy summer afternoon with at least 100 people in the store. A little boy standing in line with his family told his dad he had to pee. Dad ignored him. The boy told him several times, and still, Dad didn’t react. He got to the register where I was helping to expedite the checkout process.

Dad: “Do you have a bathroom?”

Me: “There is a public restroom in the hallway upstairs, just outside of the store exit.”

Dad: “No. He needs your bathroom. He can’t wait.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but our employee bathrooms are not accessible on this floor, and for safety reasons, I cannot bring you below. The public restrooms are just upstairs, though.”

Dad: “Are you telling me you are ignoring the needs of a little boy due to ‘safety’?”

He did finger quotes as he said this.

Me: “Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

It went on for a few more seconds until the dad grabbed the kid who desperately needed to pee at this point and left to use the restroom. I checked out the rest of his family, who were embarrassed by the confrontation, and I was in the middle of checking out the next person in line when Dad came back into the store, dragging his child, who was crying and in wet pants. The father started screaming at me.

Dad: “He pissed himself! Are you happy, you dumb b****? This is all your fault! He pissed himself like a f****** baby!”

At this point, the customer who I was checking out spoke up.

Customer: “Are you joking? Your child told you he had to pee while we were still standing back there—” *gestures to where the line is stretched back at least ten people away* “—and you did nothing. You tried to bully this poor woman into breaking rules instead of just saying thank you and taking your kid to the bathroom. And now you’re humiliating him at the same time as trying to blame her? Your bathroom emergency was not her fault!”

It was a great moment made better when the dad started arguing with the customer. He started threatening violence, so one of my employees grabbed an officer patrolling outside to intervene. The officer told the angry dad:

Officer: “Your lack of planning does not constitute an emergency for anyone else.”

When working at a museum, you get to deal with members who think that paying anywhere from $90 to $140 a year entitles them to the LITERAL WORLD. Having a museum membership is not like being a member at a yacht club; it’s more like being a member at a Costco. You get a lot of superficial complaints that are easily solved. I especially love it when an annoying member winds up correcting their own problem. 

It’s a busy Sunday afternoon. A member comes to me with a complaint.

Member: “Your website does not state that members need a timed-entry ticket for the travelling exhibit.”

Me: “Yes, sir, it does. I’m sorry for the confusion. Let’s get you entry for right now.”

Member: *Raising his voice* “This is ridiculous! Your homepage states members don’t need timed entry!”

Me: “I apologize, sir, but timed entry will be permanent for all traveling exhibits going forward. I’ll get you a ticket so you can begin your visit.”

Member: “This is no way to speak with a member. Pull up your website, right now!”

I pull up our homepage and turn the monitor. Nothing is listed to confirm what he says, so he orders me to click a bunch of random tabs. Eventually, we come to the part he is looking for, and he’s reading the rules thinking he’s “hot stuff”.

Member: “See, it says, ‘General admission tickets are no longer timed entry and are valid for the entire day of your visit. Special ticketed exhibitions still require a timed-entry ticket for all visitors and members.'”

He stops and just stares at me. I put the last nail in the coffin.

Me: “What time would you like the enter the exhibit, sir?”

To add insult to injury, he ran out of free member passes for the traveling exhibits. I got him in anyway just so he would leave me alone!

I work for a small non-profit museum in a neighborhood of Boston that draws a lot of tourists but sometimes we are a hidden gem for local folks. As I am unlocking the front doors to head inside and start the opening procedures, a woman walking her dog (clearly a pet and not a service dog or even an emotional support dog) approaches me.

Dog Walking Lady: “What is this place? I walk my dog by here all the time, but I’ve never been in before.”

Me: “This is [Museum]!”

I explain the museum.

Dog Walking Lady: “Is it okay to bring dogs into the museum?”

Me: “We only allow service animals.”

Dog Walking Lady: “What if I just lied and told you he was a service dog?”

Me: “…um… you’ve… already told me he wasn’t.”

She just pouts and slinks away. I’m assuming she never tried to actually pull that stunt because I don’t remember seeing her again.

Don’t pretend to have a service animal! It makes life harder for people who actually rely on them!

Related:
Doing A Disservice To Service Animals, Part 8
Doing A Disservice To Service Animals, Part 7
Doing A Disservice To Service Animals, Part 6
Doing A Disservice To Service Animals, Part 5
Doing A Disservice To Service Animals, Part 4

Years ago, I was flying to Florida. As I was walking through the airport in Boston, I saw a family walking single file, each one with their own rolling carry-on bag. The last one was a boy, apparently six or seven years old, and plainly feeling very grown-up.

It turned out they were on my flight. They were a couple of rows ahead of me, and both the boy and I were on the aisle. As soon as the seatbelt light was turned off, he opened his bag. It was full of action figures — you have to bring the essentials.

He was also a very social little guy, so everyone within a couple of rows had met him by the end, so I very easily heard him as we were landing at Miami. He looked out the window, sighed, and said, “Oh, well, back where we started.”

It’s flat, it’s got planes… close enough.

It’s around 2016. The newspapers have been reporting on scammers calling people at home and on their mobile phones, allegedly to raise money for various Police Support Funds. There are also legitimate fundraisers for police officers, too, but it’s difficult to tell them apart, although generally speaking, the legitimate ones at this point in time either call your home phone or send you something in the mail.

One day, I’m sitting in my car waiting for my wife to come out of her office when my mobile phone rings. I answer it because I am expecting a call and don’t know what number will show on my display. The caller is a man who sounds roughly middle-aged with not a hint of a foreign accent.

Caller: “Hello, my name is [Caller], and I’m calling from [generic sounding name for Police Fund] raising money to support our local Police Officers who have been wounded on the job. Would you like to donate $100 today? The donation will appear on your next cell phone statement.”

That makes me feel somewhat suspicious.

Me: “I’m not interested in doing so right now. Could you send me something in the mail that has more details on your charity?”

Caller: “I understand; $100 is a bit too much for some people. How I about I put you down for $50 for now?”

Me: “No, I’m not comfortable doing transactions like this based on a cold call to my mobile phone.”

Caller: “Well, how about I start you off with just a $25 donation?”

Me: “Look, I apologize if you are a legitimate charity, but I have no idea who you are, nor any way to confirm it. I did not give you permission to use my mobile phone number to call me to raise money or for any other purpose. I’d be happy to give something once I confirm who you are and that the charity you represent is legitimate, but I’m not doing that with someone who cold-calls my mobile number without my permission. Again, if you want to mail me something that I can read and check out, I will consider a donation.”

Caller: “I understand your hesitancy, and I appreciate your concern. How about just a modest ten-dollar donation to get us started, then?”

Me: “No, thank you. You don’t appear to be listening to anything I’m saying here. Please take my number off your list. Goodbye.”

I hung up. Afterward, I looked up the name of the charity he said was representing and I could not find anything by that name at all.

Yeah, this is why I don’t respond to cold-callers of any type, especially when they call my mobile phone number without my express permission. If I don’t know who you are, you aren’t getting any money from me!