(It’s a Saturday afternoon and I’m on my way to the liquor store. When I’m about ten feet away from the door, I see a woman storm out to her van, angrily yelling at their friend inside the whole while.)
Woman: “This is not our liquor store. We are never coming here again; they don’t give anything for free!”
(What did they expect, a BOGO on beer? One free shot with every purchase?)
(I am working a shift from four to twelve in an all-night coffee shop. The leading chain coffee shop across the street has just closed. Two girls walk in with [Chain] cups and sit down. I give them five minutes to see if they’re going to throw out their cups or order food or something. When they don’t, I head over to their table.)
Me: “Hey, ladies, it’s counter order, so if you’d like anything tonight, stop by the counter and we’ll help you out.”
Girl #1: “Oh, no, we’re good.”
Me: “Well, unfortunately, if you’re not going to order something I’m going to have to ask you to leave. It’s company policy.”
Girl #2: “But, like, we already have drinks.” *gestures to their cups.*
Me: “Yeah, but unless you’re ordering something from me, you can’t be here. If you were to buy a pastry or something, I’d offer to put those drinks in our cups, but if you’re not getting anything from me, you have to leave.”
Girl #1: “But you’re the same thing.”
Me: “Uh, no. We’re [Our Shop] and those are from [Chain].”
Girl #2: “Uh, yeah?”
Me: “They’re our competition.”
Girl #1: “So? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Me: “That we’re competing for who you buy your coffee from.”
Girl #1: “So? You both sell coffee.”
Me: “Yes… that’s why we’re competing. Directly. For your money.”
Girl #2: “I don’t get it.”
Me: *sighs* “Look, we’re [Our Shop], and you bought your coffee from [Chain]. If you’re not going to spend any money at [Our Shop], you have to leave.”
Girl #2: “But you’re the same.”
Me: *resists the urge to flip tables* “No. They’re our competition. You bought your drinks from them, which means you can’t sit in here.”
Girl #2: “But they’re closed and we can’t sit there.”
Me: “And you can’t sit here unless you buy something from me.”
Girl #1: “Well, we already have our drinks.”
Me: “Then you’re going to have to go. You can’t sit in my shop with drinks from another shop.”
(They get up, giving me the dirtiest looks imaginable, and walk outside… only to sit right down at one of my outdoor tables.)
Me: *leaning out the door* “That’s part of my shop, too, ladies.”
(I’m riding the bus with my partner and a friend of ours who’s a few years younger than us. We’re all in our twenties and very nerdy. We’re making silly jokes about sorting the crew of “Star Trek: The Next Generation” into Hogwarts houses or something when another passenger turns around and looks at us. He’s an older man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, not very well-groomed, and reeking of cigarettes. He directs the following remarks to my partner, completely ignoring our friend and me:)
Stranger: “Hey, you!”
Partner: “Um, yes?”
Stranger: *in a weirdly sneering, accusatory tone* “What’s your job?”
Partner: “I work in publishing.”
Stranger: *clearly a bit thrown by my partner having a “real” job, but forging on anyway* “Well, do you know anything about securities?”
Partner: “No.”
Stranger: “You don’t.”
Partner: “No.”
Stranger: “Why not?”
Partner: “It’s not my job.”
Stranger: “Oh. Huh. Well. I just thought… uh, you sounded like a real smart guy there, so I thought you might know something about it.”
Partner: “Nope.”
(The stranger gets off the bus at the next stop and I start laughing.)
Friend: “What’s so funny?”
Me: “Well, you remember how earlier today I was having lunch with my friend from high school, the one who’s a lawyer? And how I invited her to come along with us, too, but she couldn’t make it?”
Friend: “Yeah?”
Me: “Well, clearly El Rando there was going after [Partner] because he thought he was the ‘alpha male’ of our group or something. But [High School Friend] actually specializes in banking law… with an emphasis on securities. She’s gonna be so grumpy she missed on an opportunity to lecture some sexist old man about legal technicalities.”
(My family owns a ranch that is secluded but is a well-known tourist attraction for our Halloween and Christmas attractions. From January to June, we offer free tours and shows for schools, all about how we work together with animals. My family is also known for rehabilitating animals, and those who cannot be released back into the wild act as our “animal ambassadors.” My youngest son is sixteen at the time of this incident when we are putting on one of our outdoor shows for a school. Several of our animals are animal actors and have been trained from a young age, and that includes the animal in this story: our timber wolf named Sitka. Sitka is in his show harness, which we hold onto when we show him. My son brings Sitka out from his holding pen and into the outdoor ring we use for shows and goes through the safety spiel.)
Son: “This is Sitka. He was brought to us from the illegal pet trade. His former owners claimed that they didn’t know he was a wolf and tried to pass him off as a Malamute, instead. He came to us when he was about a year and a half old; unfortunately, he had already been habituated to living with people by then. So now, he works in the movies and here as one of our animal ambassadors.”
Nine-Year-Old Student: *raises hand* “Can I pet him?”
Son: “No, I don’t think he’d be comfortable with someone other than myself, my dad, or my brother handling him or touching him.”
Nine-Year-Old Student: *dejectedly* “Why not?”
Son: “Because he could bite you. He doesn’t know you and could become scared and bite you. His bite is much worse than his bark.”
Nine-Year-Old Student: *stands up and starts walking to the ring* “But he’s just a big dog!” *starts trying to climb over the fence between the seats and the ring*
(At this moment, Sitka’s attention turns to the student, who stops when he notices the wolf looking at him. This is when I arrive with one of our other animal ambassadors and notice what is going on. I try to flag down the teacher, who seems to be absorbed in her phone instead of keeping an eye on her students. I walk over to the fence, looking down to the student.)
Me: “If you want to pet the wolf, it’ll be the last thing you do. Stay on the other side and you can maybe pet the snake; is that a good trade-off?”
Student: *thinks for a moment before climbing back to his seat*
(I’m amazed that the teacher didn’t notice anything that was going on during the entire show, and only addressed her students when it was time to move onto the next activity.)
(I’m waiting in line at the grocery store. This particular chain of stores has a one-day 10% off promotion at the beginning of every month. The minimum dollar amount to qualify for the 10% discount used to be $35 before taxes, but this has been raised to $50 in recent years. There are two customers ahead of me in the line. One is just finishing up paying and the other is tapping away at her smartphone. As the first customer gathers up his bags and leaves, the second customer begins blaring loud rock music from her phone and puts it in her pocket before greeting the cashier. A group of tall, boisterous young men join the line behind me. They have no concept of personal space and keep wandering around behind both me and Loud Rock Lady. For some reason, this causes her to glare and hiss at ME to keep my distance. I resist the urge to say something snarky about not being able to hear her over her obnoxious music and ignore her, instead. The cashier finishes ringing up Loud Rock Lady’s things.)
Cashier: “So, that comes to $38.00; how would you like to pay today?”
Loud Rock Lady: “Did you give me my 10% off?”
Cashier: “Oh, sorry, but that’s for a minimum $50 purchase.”
Loud Rock Lady: “Really? It used to be $35.”
Cashier: “Yes, it used to, but it’s been $50 for a while now.”
Loud Rock Lady: *emphatic sigh* “Oh, well, just add on two more of these tissue bundles and I’ll pick them up on my way out.”
Cashier: “Well, that would put you just above $50, but the $50 minimum is before taxes and there’s already $3 and change in tax on your current total, so…”
Loud Rock Lady: *groans and rolls her eyes* “FINE, uh, just throw on three more of these avocado dips, then. I’ll go get them now.” *disappears back into the aisles*
(I’ve already done the mental math and know exactly where this is going. The cashier scans the container three more times. Lo and behold, the total is still below $50. She gives me an apologetic smile and shrugs as we wait for Loud Rock Lady to come back.)
Loud Rock Lady: *stomps back up and thrusts three more dip containers onto the counter* “There, ha! You’re lucky I love this stuff! Did you take off my 10%?”
Cashier: *clears throat uncomfortably* “Actually, you’re still under by—”
Loud Rock Lady: “Oh for Pete’s sake… well, go ahead and scan two more of those dips, then! Might as well, they’re basically free!”
(She suddenly turns and grins at me, looking pleased with herself. I’m thoroughly enjoying the spectacle at this point, so I smile back pleasantly and wait to see if either she or the cashier realizes that she’s still several cents shy of the required pre-tax total.)
Loud Rock Lady: *oblivious* “Go on, then. Scan your thing or whatever so I can pay!”
(The cashier obediently scans the barcode for the discount, but no money comes off. The cashier either doesn’t notice or care, and Loud Rock Lady is already too fixated on cramming her credit card into the reader to double-check the final total herself. As her payment goes through and the receipt prints, she suddenly stares worriedly back up at the screen, now cleared for the next transaction.)
Loud Rock Lady: “You did give me my 10% off, right?”
Cashier: “I definitely scanned the code.”
Loud Rock Lady: *all smiles again* “Great! I’ll just leave my bags here while I go pick up those last two dips, then.” *dashes off*
Cashier: *stares after her for a moment, then looks at me and chuckles* “Well, that was… interesting.”
(With my small number of items and the cashier hustling to get the line moving again, I had paid and was out the door before Loud Rock Lady even got back. I wonder if she ever checked her receipt and realized she spent almost fifteen extra dollars in order to save absolutely nothing. I would have loved to see the look on her face.)
