I work at a deli/bakery attached to a restaurant. We hand-make all of our bakery items on-site every day. It’s all very fresh and high-quality. As a result, it’s a bit expensive. Most people come to the counter after eating in the restaurant, but there is the option to come straight to the counter.

A man comes in. It’s immediately obvious he’s homeless. He’s also disabled and I’m guessing he has Tourette’s based on the loud noises he keeps making. No one else wants to serve him. I come around the counter to take his order.

He wants a pecan pie and water. I order his water and write out a ticket for a pecan pie.

I hand him the ticket.

Customer: “How much is it?”

Me: “It’s $16.95.”

It’s a full-sized pecan pie like anyone would serve a whole family.

Customer: *Suddenly angry* “No, no give me something I can buy for five dollars.”

Again, we’re high-quality and a bit pricey. There are a few things in my case for under five, and as I start to think through what I could offer him, he shoves angrily back, running into other guests.

Customer: *Very aggressively runs into another woman* “Move! Out of my way!”

He reaches the glass door and rams his chair into it to force it open. He hits so hard that I worry the glass is going to break.

Customer: “THIS IS F****** RIDICULOUS! YOU F****** SATAN WORSHIPPER!”

I feel bad for him and most homeless people. I’ve been homeless. I was willing to do what I could, but this was insane. I wish I could have helped him.

My car died, and I had to replace it immediately as I needed it for work. I went to a dealership and told them I wanted a sub-compact.

Salesman: “Let me put you in a truck.”

Me: “I don’t want a truck. I need a car with good mileage for work.”

I asked about a particular model.

Salesman: “Let me put you in a truck.” 

Me: “I do not want a truck.”

Salesman: “Let me put you in a truck.”

Me: “I am going to buy a car today, but I’m going to buy it from somebody who will listen to me!”

There were two other salesmen watching us. I fully expected one to swoop in for a guaranteed commission, but they didn’t budge. I walked to the dealer next door and drove out in my new car.

CONTENT WARNING: Needles

I am not a tricky stick. I started donating plasma when I was seventeen and continued twice a year until I got pregnant, so I’m not afraid of needles, either. 

When I am pregnant, they have to draw my blood for the gestational diabetes test. When I get there, there are two people. The woman tells me the young man is a nurse doing his residency and asks if I’m okay with him doing my blood draw. I say sure. Again, I’m not afraid of needles and not a tricky stick.

It goes terribly. He misses my vein on the left arm twice. I’m still calm, but now he’s freaking out a little and misses again.

Older Nurse: “Are you okay, Mrs. [My Name]?”

Me: “I’m doing fine.”

Older Nurse: “Do you want me to draw your blood, instead?”

Me: “No, I’m good. He can keep trying. Better on me than on someone who needs a needle urgently in the future.”

The young nurse tries again and misses again. Now he looks close to tears and way more emotional than me. The older nurse pulls him aside and talks him through a few deep breaths. They come back, and he tries to stick me again and misses twice.

Me: “Would you like to try my other arm?”

Older Nurse: “That’s probably a good idea.”

After five failed tries in my left arm, he preps my right.

Me: “Don’t worry. You’re doing great. You’ll get it this time.”

Older Nurse: “Keep calm and focus. The more emotional you are, the harder it will be.”

After three tries, he finally got the needle into my right arm and could draw blood. I left looking like an addict with holes in both arms. Hopefully, he didn’t get discouraged and is working as a nurse today with a steady hand.

I was sending out a weekly email to my entire section at work to let them know about the result of various sales and such over the past week. While I did proofread the email, I managed to miss a couple of small errors — think using “than” instead of “then” accidentally.

About five minutes after the email went out, one of our newest employees sent a “Reply All” with around half a dozen screenshots of my initial email attached, each one marked up like he was a school teacher. However, while he did note the two actual errors I’d made, the rest were not actual errors but instead things like correcting “a hand” as “an hand”.

A couple of others sent out “Reply Alls” of their own in response, basically calling out that the “corrections” he’d made weren’t actually corrections. He responded with an all-caps reply, “YES, THEY ARE!”, and finally, our section head stepped in and told everyone to not treat group emails like a chat room.

That same new employee ended up doing the same thing on a few more section-wide emails over the next week. He never did it on direct emails between him and one or two other people, only on the “big” emails where he could “Reply All” to show off his “corrections” to a lot of people at once. And, as with my initial email, most or even all of the corrections he would send would be not actual issues or even flat-out wrong.

The section head took the new employee aside to talk to him about that being inappropriate, but his response was basically to throw a tantrum, audible even outside the section head’s office, about how the emails were “unreadable” and needed to be fixed.

A few of us started sending out two emails when we needed to send something to the entire section — one to the section as a whole, and one to this guy specifically — so if he did do his “correction” bit, it’d only spam us rather than everyone. This worked for a few days, but then he “got wise” to it and started adding the entire section to his replies.

The section head talked to him again, and in response, he forwarded his next set of “corrections” to the entire company. That, apparently, was the final straw, as by the next Monday, he was no longer employed with the company.

Related:
No One Likes An Unsolicited Editor

I worked in audio-visual services in a public library for over thirty years. As a result, many customers have become familiar with me and will seek me out for assistance. Although I retired a couple of years ago, I still make the occasional trip into my old place of employment to see staff I know and look at the new materials available for checkout.

I am browsing the new movies display when I am approached by someone who recognizes me as an employee, though I do not recognize her.

Patron: “Hey! Hey, you! Can you help me find this movie? You know, the one with the nun. Vera Farmiga is in it.” 

Me: “Sorry, not familiar with that one. Go to the person at the desk over there, and since you have the name of the actress, I bet that person can find it and pull it off the shelf for you.”

Patron: “No, you can do it since you work here.”

Me: “Well, I don’t work here now; I retired a couple of years ago. And I’m not personally familiar with your actress’s work. I can help you find the title over at one of the public terminals.”

Patron: “No, since you work here, you can look it up and pull it off the shelf for me. Don’t be lazy.”

Me: “I don’t work here, and I don’t have to help you. In fact, please do your own work and stop bothering me.”

Patron: “I want your supervisor. Now!”

Me: “Too bad, God isn’t taking calls right now.”

I walked off, and the last thing I saw from the corner of my eye was the woman haranguing the audio-visual staff person and waving her hands around in my general direction while the staff person was shrugging her shoulders.

Related:
The Contrarian Librarian: The DVD
The Contrarian Librarian Runs Out Of Time
The Contrarian Librarian: The Childhood Years
Softening Of The Contrarian Librarian
The Contrarian Librarian: Looking For Work