We’ve made masks mandatory for both customers and employees. We’ve also got some disposable masks in little bags for customers to use if they don’t own masks.

A regular comes in without a mask on. We’ve had trouble with her before and she was told that she needs to be more respectful towards us or she’ll be banned, which I think is why my supervisor is a bit stricter with her.

Supervisor: “[Regular], you need to wear a mask if you want to come in.” 

Regular: “I don’t have one.”

Supervisor: “We’ve got some for you, here.”

My supervisor offers her a bag with a mask inside.

Regular: “I can’t breathe through one of those.”

Supervisor: “Well, masks are required now. You’ve either got to find a mask that works for you or we can’t serve you.”

Regular: “This is ridiculous. I can’t breathe through those masks!”

Supervisor: “This is corporate policy. You need to wear a mask or you have to leave.”

The regular leaves, swearing.

This all happens before my shift and is relayed to me later. I come in for my shift and see her outside our door putting a plastic bag over her head. I’m cleaning the lobby at this point so as I clean the door handles, I open the door for her and start talking to her in my chipper customer service voice.

Me: “Hi, [Regular]! You know, we’ve got masks for you if you don’t have any.”

Regular: “I CAN’T BREATHE THROUGH ONE OF THOSE!”

I’m taken aback and before I can stop myself, I blurt out.

Me: “But you can breathe through plastic?”

Regular: “YES!”

Me: “Oh, okay, then!”

My supervisor told her she needed to put on a proper mask or leave. She left. She came back later in the day when a different supervisor was on shift, who served her despite her still not wearing a mask.

The next day, she came back with a proper mask that said, “F U,” in big letters across the front. We’re just happy she was able to find a proper mask that she could breathe through so she doesn’t have to suffocate herself with a plastic bag to get her coffee now.

Related:
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 4
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 3
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 2
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked

This happens a few years ago, before the US lifts its embargo on Cuba. My roommate has an American cousin who’s come up to Canada for the weekend. One of my other roommates is a bartender and has mixed up some drinks for us while we’re hanging out.

American Cousin: “Wow, that’s really good! What’s in it?”

[Bartender Roommate] reels off a list of ingredients, including rum.

American Cousin: “What kind of rum?”

Bartender Roommate: “Ah, my very favourite, [Brand].”

American Cousin: “Never heard of it. Is it Dominican?”

Bartender Roommate: “No, it’s Cuban.”

American Cousin: “Dude! You’ve got a hookup for Cuban rum?!”

[Bartender Roommate] laughs because she thinks he’s joking.

Bartender Roommate: “Yeah, my super-secret connection, the [Provincial Government-Run Liquor Store].”

American Cousin: “No way! Can I get in on this?”

I cut in because I can see he’s actually serious.

Me: “You can pick it up at most liquor stores here.”

American Cousin: *With a wink* “Sure, sure. So, you’ll hook me up, yeah?”

No matter how hard we tried to persuade him that it was completely legal to buy Cuban products in Canada, he kept thinking we were pulling his leg because “Cuban stuff is illegal.” Even taking him to multiple obviously legitimate liquor stores and a specialty tobacconist didn’t convince him. However, he seemed happy to go home with two or three bottles of rum and some cigars, so all’s well, I suppose.

In high school, I am good friends with a guy whose family is military. They live in military housing on the base in town. The housing itself is outside the base proper, but the property itself is still considered part of the base and is patrolled by the Military Police rather than the local cops.

I am going over to visit my friend at his house one evening, and as we are both too young to get licenses of our own yet, I have my dad drive me out. Upon getting into the car, he discovers his seat belt is broken. It’s not great, but there’s not much that can be done about it, as by this time of the evening, the repair shops have all closed. So, he basically just shrugs.

Dad: “I’ll get it fixed tomorrow.”

He drives me to my friend’s house and drops me off, and then goes home. As it happens, on his way off the base, he comes to a Military Police roadblock.

Military Police: “Sir, may I ask why you’re not wearing your seat belt?”

Dad: “I just discovered tonight that it was broken. I’m going to take it into the shop tomorrow and have it fixed.”

Military Police: “Well, sir, you’re driving without a seat belt. I’m going to write you a ticket.”

Dad: “I just told you it only broke tonight. Can’t you just write me a repair slip?”

Military Police: “If you don’t like this, sir, feel free to dispute the ticket in court.”

At this, she hands my dad his ticket and walks smugly away, convinced that she’s gotten the better of him.

Several weeks later, my dad has indeed disputed the ticket and is appearing in court for the pretrial.

Judge: “All right, Mr. [Dad’s Last Name], you’re disputing this ticket for a broken seat belt. You understand all your rights and responsibilities in this regard?”

Dad: “Yes, I do.”

Judge: “And would you like to be tried by judge or by jury?”

Dad: “I would like a trial in front of a jury, please.”

At this, the Crown Prosecutor steps over to my dad.

Crown Prosecutor: “Mr. [Dad’s Last Name], do you realize how much expense the Crown would have to go to in order to convene a jury over a broken seat belt?”

Dad: *Smugly* “Yep.”

There is a long pause.

Crown Prosecutor: “Let me speak to the judge.”

Long story short, the Crown Prosecutor, who was supposed to be ensuring my dad had to pay the ticket, went to the judge and got the case thrown out. My dad didn’t have to pay a cent.

And incidentally, the seat belt was fixed first thing the morning after he first got the ticket.

I am seventeen and was just hired at a cafe a few months ago. I am just getting used to chatting with customers while making them lattes and am making conversation with a regular. She is around forty years old and is wearing a nice summer dress. 

Me: “Jeez, it sure is hot out, eh? The humidity is killing me!”

Customer: “Oh, God, I know. I’m really glad I wore this dress instead of my jeans today.”

Me: “Yeah… jeans would be soaked by now.”

Customer: “Yeah, but also it’s so much more freeing to be wearing a dress with no panties on. Nice breeze outside.”

I laugh, hoping she’s joking.

Me: “Well, here’s your iced latte. Have a good day [Customer].”

As the customer walked out the door, a breeze, indeed, caught her dress and lifted it up in the back, mooning the entire café with her pasty white butt.

I teach bike lessons to toddlers as a high-school summer job. This encounter happens one week while I am teaching the youngest age group.

Me: “This must be a mistake. All of the kids on my list have the same parent name and contact info.”

Supervisor: “Weird. It’s probably a typo.”

Half an hour later, three kids come riding toward me on their bikes.

Me: “Hello! Can I get you guys signed in?”

Caregiver: “This is Leo, Liam, and Lucas.”

They are very similar-looking triplets with matching bikes and matching helmets, and none of them speak English.

After the class, I go to speak to the mom about their poor listening and to discuss plans for the week. Four caregivers arrive to pick them up.

Me: “Hi, everybody! Who here is Mom?”

Woman #1: “Oh, none of us. We’re just their nannies.”

It was a long week.