(Our company has brought in a new policy to force staff to sign up customers to their loyalty card; we have to meet a specific number each week or face disciplinary action. As a supervisor, I often bring up things I see as issues with my manager.)

Me: *to my manager* “What’s to stop people from adding fake names just to get their quota?”

Manager: “Why do you always do that?”

Me: “Do what?’

Manager: “You always see the worst in things, like last week when I wanted to remove the security code from the door to the staff area and you told me that someone could get in there and steal from the staff lockers.”

Me: “I’m only bringing up things that I can see that could be a problem.”

Manager: “I just can’t believe that you think like that; I don’t think I can trust you.” *walks off*

(Fast forward a few weeks:)

Manager: “Oh, my God, did you hear that there’s been quite a few staff in other stores who have been fired because they were putting in fake names for [loyalty card]? I wonder why no one thought of that in the first place.”

(I am AFAB — assigned female at birth — and go by she/they pronouns. I am spending the day with a genderfluid AFAB friend. We’re on a popular shopping street in Brisbane and are waiting for the lights to change before crossing to the bus station. On the other side of the street, a man is standing on a literal soapbox, quoting Bible verses about sin and how everyone around him will be condemned to Hell.)

Friend: “Gimme your hand.”

(We cross the street hand in hand, and the man grows louder as he sees us pass by.)

Friend: “Hang on.”

(They stopped on the sidewalk and kissed me on the cheek, right in front of the man. Someone actually audibly gasped, and another person tried to hand them a Jesus pamphlet. We walked the rest of the way to the bus hand in hand.)

My father is our doing a promotion in a mall that involves him and a few friends wearing medieval amour. After the promotion they have to go to the fabric shop to pick up some fabric. As they are coming back down the escalator they hear this exchange from a coffee shop at the bottom of the escalator.
Customer: No! I am telling you! Yesterday the price said $3.15 and now you are charging me $3.85!
Assistant that just handed him his coffee: Sir, as I explained—
Customer: No! the price went up! You’re just trying to make me think I’m crazy and seeing things!
Here the customer turns around while taking a sip from his coffee. He sees my dad and friends approach the bottom of the escalator. The guy goes wide eyed, he misses his mouth with is coffee and pours it down his shirt.

(In Brisbane, where I live, passenger trains typically have six carriages. Carriages two and five are designated “quiet carriages,” and passengers are requested not to talk loudly or play loud music or electronic devices. I like sitting in these carriages on my way to and from work because I’m very much an introvert and struggle with having a lot of people around me. These little areas of — relative — peace and tranquility make my hour-long commute so much more bearable. This story starts a couple of stops down the line from mine when a lady gets up out of her seat, walks to the door area, and loudly announces:)

Passenger: “Hello, train people!” 

(She then starts to ramble on about getting up and moving, and says something about dancing before playing some music on her phone. She then turns to the nearest person, which happens to be me, and tries to get me up to dance. At this, I simply pull one of my earbuds out of my ear, point to the “quiet carriage” sign on the window, and say:)

Me: “Just so you know, this is a quiet carriage.”

(She looks where I’m pointing, reads the bit about no loud music or talking, turns back to me, and says:)

Passenger: “Oh, do you want me to get off, then?”

(I am a bit taken aback that she hasn’t even made the smallest attempt to apologise for disturbing the carriage, so I say:)

Me: “Actually, if you don’t mind, that’d be great.”

Passenger: “I’ve got so much love in my heart. Do you need a hug?”

(I’m not proud of my reply, but all I want is to do was sit in peace on my way to work.)

Me: “No, I need you to shut up.”

(It did the trick, though, because she packed up her stuff and moved to another carriage.)

As usual I have a huge job list which involves the relaying of a whole section to add new stock as well as serving customers at our front counter and am supposed to clear stock from another area, all in a 5 hour shift. I am returning to the section after being called up to the counter to serve a customer, when a woman walks up to me, I am wearing the store’s uniform.

Me “Hi, can I help you with anything?”

Woman “Oh you work here?”

Me “Yes I do”

Woman “I leave mess, you clean it” *walks off.

I go to where she’s pointed to find that she’d opened packages and pulled out metres of product, knotting it in the process and strewing it over the floor.

It takes me ages to tidy it up so others don’t trip on it, as a result I don’t get to finish assigned tasks within the set time period and get lectured on improving my time management skills.