(I work at an extremely popular chain bakery and cafe. We have recently gotten a new manager: a woman who has been bounced from cafe to cafe because of all the complaints that have been filed against her by employees and other managers. The company refuses to fire her because she is very good with customers and receives glowing reviews from them. A customer comes up to me in the middle of lunch rush.)

Customer: “Excuse me? All of the paper towels are out in the women’s bathroom.”

(I run off to get the paper towel dispenser key, which is kept in the office. I try to get in, but find the door locked. I go up to the new manager, who is swamped with sandwich orders.)

Me: “[Manager]? I need the bathroom keys, but they’re locked in the office. Can I borrow your keys to go get them?”

Manager: “No.”

Me: “I… What?”

Manager: “No, you cannot. There’s money in the office, and nobody is allowed in there when there is money in there.”

(This is correct, but only in stores that do not have cameras installed in the office. Ours, however, does have a camera installed.)

Me: “[Manager], we don’t have to follow that rule here. Please? I only need the keys for a second, and I can see through the office door that the only money that isn’t locked in the safe is change. It probably totals about $10 at the most.”

Manager: “No. I don’t trust you. Wait here while I finish what I’m doing, and then we will get them together.”

(I am taken aback. Not only have I not given this manager any reason not to trust me, but I also know that the general manager holds me in high regard, and that I have a reputation for being an extremely trustworthy person. Nonetheless, I stand and wait for her to finish the five or so sandwiches on her board. While standing there, I am approached by no less than five more customers, all telling me that the paper towels are out. Finally, the manager finishes.)

Manager: *unlocking the door* “All right, tell me where the keys are.”

(I move towards the doorway, fully intending to grab the keys myself. She SLAMS the door in my face, and yells through the door.)

Manager: “Tell me where they are!”

Me: “Do you see the tan box on the wall?”

Manager: “No.”

Me: “It’s a tan metal box with a lock on it. There’s a keychain hanging off of the knob with three skulls on it. It’s right next to the door. Do you see it?”

Manager: “No.”

(I try and fail to direct her towards the keys several times before she gets flustered and opens the door. I reach around the door, open the box, pull out the keys, and close the door behind me. The only part of me that enters the office is my arm up to my shoulder, and I don’t even need to look. I also don’t come within five feet of the money the entire time. On the way back out, the manager drops this gem.)

Manager: “It’s just, I really don’t trust you around money.”

Me: *muttering under my breath* “Well, that’s going to cause an issue, because I’m a cashier.”

(My grandma, mum, and I are having tea at a small cafe. Next to us there is this decorated table, which is reserved, and every waitress warns people about this when they try sitting down. One guy is about to sit there when a waitress approaches him.)

Waitress: “I’m sorry, sir. This table is reserved.”

Guy: “Oh. We’re four people.” *tries to sit down*

Waitress: “Okay, but this table is still reserved”

Guy: “We’re only four people!”

Waitress: “Sir, you can not sit here. We’ll find you another table.”

Guy: *as he leaves* “But we’re four people!”

(I have been in contact with a local artist and jewelry maker to make a pair of custom wedding rings. We met in person a while ago to go over what I wanted, at which time she told me she would need to eventually take my engagement ring to make tracings, due to its unique shape. We then spend the next few weeks emailing back and forth to try to coordinate meeting up again, but due to the fact that she lives 45 minutes from where I work and over an hour from where I live, this is proving to be difficult. Finally, we get to this point…)

Artist: *in email* “Okay, why don’t you just mail me the ring? My address is [address].”

Me: *in email* “I don’t know that I’m comfortable mailing you my ring. I’m worried it might get lost or stolen. Can I just drive up after work on [date] and give it to you?

Artist: *in email* “Sure! Just leave it in my mailbox.”

(I decide this would be all right, so on the day I promised, I drive up to her house. When I get there, I see she is actually home and outside in her front yard, close to the street, so I approach her.)

Me: “Hi, [Artist]!”

Artist: *not recognizing me* “Hi… Can I help you?”

Me: “I’m here to drop off my ring. I wasn’t expecting you to be home.”

Artist: *suddenly clicking* “Oh! [My Name]! I didn’t recognize you. Sure, let me take that.”

(A few weeks go by, and she emails me again to say the rings are done and that she will be in [Town where I work] on a day that week. We arrange to meet in a café at a specific time. I walk to the café and get there a few minutes early. I quickly spot her, but she is sitting with who I assume is another client, talking. The tables are very small, so instead of trying to butt my way in to their meeting, since I am early, anyway, I grab a table right next to theirs and wait for her to be done. I make eye contact with her just as I’m sitting down, so I assume she has seen me and will be done soon. I order tea, and the time we were supposed to meet passes. Finally, I overhear this part of their conversation.)

Artist: “Yeah, she should be here any minute.”

(I freeze, realizing that she didn’t recognize me when we made eye contact, and hasn’t seen me despite me being at the table right next to them. I am about to get up and say something to her when she continues…)

Artist: “She’s so funny. We only met once in person, and then she just showed up out at my house, completely unannounced, expecting I would know who she was!”

Client: “Oh, that’s… kind of creepy.”

(I can’t believe what I am hearing! She is talking about me to a complete stranger and making me out to be a creep! I have no idea what I should do at this point… If this stranger already thinks that I’m a creep, what will she think if I stand up and reveal I have been sitting right behind them and eavesdropping this whole time? I keep sipping my tea and consider just leaving, until…)

Artist: “[My Name]?!”

(I looked up and they were both staring at me, so I immediately jumped up and came over to their table. I quickly got through trying on the rings, writing a check, paying for my tea, and leaving, all while trying to be as friendly and not-creepy as possible!)

(I am a very petite female. I am the customer at a coffee shop I frequent often. The employees are very nice and most of them know me by now. I purchase a sandwich and a drink, set up my laptop, open the sandwich, and begin to work. A few minutes later I go to the restroom, leaving behind my items, only to come out to a man in his mid-40s eating my sandwich, right next to where I have been sitting. I hate confronting people and would have brushed it off, but it is just too weird.)

Me: “Excuse me. Are you eating my sandwich?”

Customer: “No, this is mine.”

Me: “I took a couple bites out of it, and there’s lip-gloss on the bite marks on ‘your’ sandwich.”

Customer: “Get your own! You young people are always taking things away from the more deserving!”

Me: *now confused and embarrassed, as everyone in the shop is staring* “Sir, that’s my sandwich. You can have it. It’s no big deal; it’s just a turkey sandwich. But I’m not the thief, here.”

Employee: “Wait. Sir, did you take this woman’s sandwich?”

Customer: “No. I’ll fight her for it!”

Employee & Me: *at same time* “You want to fight for it?!”

(There is moment of silence as the other customers and employees look back and forth between my five-foot frame and the man’s six-foot frame. The other customer looks around for a moment, then grabs my sandwich and runs out.)

Employee: “Do you want another sandwich?”

Me: “I don’t think I’ll ever eat a turkey sandwich again.”

I am 17. I see a “Help Wanted” sign across the street from my high school. The shop is also across the street from a large university campus. I go in and ask for an application. This all proceeds as normal; the barista gives me an application and offers me a free drink.

The next day, I return to the coffee shop to turn in my completed application. The barista directs me to the manager and I turn my application in to him. While busy, he seems friendly enough, and offers to give me an interview at 4:00 pm the next day.

I show up the following day about ten minutes early. The manager is nowhere in sight, so I inform the barista that I am ready for him, and once again, I am offered a free drink. I sit in the coffee shop and wait for the manager to come.

And wait.

After an hour with no sign of the manager, I ask the barista if my interview has been cancelled. The barista, who seems to have forgotten I was there, yelps in surprise and tells me that the manager isn’t in. She then goes to the back and calls him. She returns and tells me that he stepped out to run some errands and should be back in about 20 minutes.

The manager finally arrives, and after getting directions from the barista, comes over to me with a stack of applications. He shuffles through the papers, finds my application, and skims over it. He looks up at me and says, “You’re in high school?”

I answer, “Yes.”

“Sorry, we’re actually only looking for college students right now, because they have more availability.” The manager then dismisses me before I even have the chance to explain that I only take classes in the morning.