When I was in grade school, I’d go to a Methodist church camp on the Grand Mesa in Colorado. It was much like any secular summer camp, just with religious lessons (much like Sunday School) in the mornings and a sing-along campfire at night.

One year, on the last morning after breakfast, we were asked to answer some questions about our camp experience. The director had written a few questions on poster-size paper, and we were just answering on notebook paper and then turning them in. The last question puzzled me; it seemed like a rather deep religious question. So, I raised my hand to ask him to clarify.

Me: “[Director], what do you mean in that last question?”

Director: “Just what did you think about your options?”

Me: “Options on our re-creation?”

I was thinking of being Born Again.

Director: “No, that’s ‘recreation’. Y’know, boating, hiking, volleyball, softball.”

Me: “OH!”

This took place around 2010 when the economy was still rotten because of the 2008 recession. I was sixteen, and at my parents’ insistence, I tried to find a part-time job despite the fact that nobody was hiring. I had adjusted my school schedule in such a way that I could potentially work several more hours than would be typical of most high school students.

A barista position opened up at the coffee shop across the street from my school, and I turned in my application. The barista working there at the time scheduled an interview for me with the manager the next day.

I showed up at the coffee shop at the designated time, told a barista I was ready, and was told to wait a few minutes. I sat down and waited. And waited. And waited. After thirty minutes, I asked the barista when the manager would be coming. She called him, and he apparently told her that he would be there in a few minutes.

After thirty more minutes of waiting, the manager finally arrived. He introduced himself and pulled out my now-crumpled application and resume. He briefly skimmed over it and then spoke to me without looking up.

Manager: “Sorry, we’re not hiring high schoolers right now. You don’t have enough availability for us.”

Me: “But I—”

Manager: “Thank you anyway, though.”

I am working behind the bar. A group of about sixteen young guys has been drinking pretty heavily when a young woman walks to the bar on her own.

Drunk Guy #1: *Pointing to his crotch* “Hey, sweetie, come sit here! Come sit on this!”

She ignores him and orders a drink.

Drunk Guy #1: “Hey, b****! I’m f****** talking to you, you sk**k w***e! Now, come sit on my d**k!”

I immediately step out from behind the bar and walk over to him.

Me: “No! You don’t talk to our customers like that. You need to leave now!”

Drunk Guy #1: “F*** you!”

Drunk Guy #2: “Yeah, he leaves, we all leave, too!”

Drunk Guys #3-16: “Yeah!” “Urrrrh!” “[General noises of agreement].”

Me: “That would be greatly appreciated. I will get your bill. Please take your obnoxious friend with you and have a nice day.”

Drunk Guy #2: “F*** you, man! You don’t understand. He goes, we go, and you’re going to lose out on all these sales for some dumb b***?”

Me: “Right now, you’re being asked to leave because you are disturbing customers. If you swear at me or say anything further about any of our customers, you will be permanently barred.”

Drunk Guy #2: “That’s bulls***! Get me your manager!”

My manager, drawn by the rising noise, steps out.

Drunk Guy #2: “This f****** b****—”

Manager: “Sir, that is enough! I have heard everything, and I heard my team warn you that if you continued to cause a disturbance, you would be permanently barred. I am making that official. You and all your friends are barred from ever entering this establishment. Now, pay your bill and leave immediately, or I will call the police and have you trespassed. Do not come back!”

The drunk guys all look seriously deflated, pay, and leave.

Woman: “Thank you both so much for stepping in like that. I hope it doesn’t hurt business.”

Manager: “Don’t thank me. Kicking out drunk bozos like that might sting for a night but won’t do much to our bottom line, but if women no longer feel safe in our bar, we are doomed.”

Me: “Also, I would far rather not have to serve loud idiots like that. I was about to cut them off, anyway.”

I am in a liquor store browsing the aisles when a woman comes in and speaks to the cashier.

Customer: “I just purchased a bottle of liquor here a few minutes ago.”

Cashier: “I remember you.” 

Customer: “You put the bottle in a bag for me. I put the bag on the floor of my car. When I drove away, the bottle rolled around and broke.”

Cashier: “Why are you telling me this?”

Customer: “I thought you should know that you should have packaged it better.”

She pauses before adding:

Customer: “I don’t want a refund or anything.”

It’s pretty clear she’s hoping for a refund.

Cashier: “Was the bottle broken when you left the store?”

Customer: “It wasn’t.”

Cashier: “I can’t be responsible for what happens to the bottle once you take it out of the store.”

Before she leaves, the customer repeats:

Customer: “I thought you should know.”

I was shaking my head at the idea that someone would blame the liquor store clerk when a bottle of booze is placed on the floor of the car in a paper bag and the bottle, unsurprisingly, ends up broken.

I work at a gym. We have two types of lockers. We have the typical ones you can use with your own lock, and we have electronic lockers where you input a code of your choice. Some people forget which locker they used or forget their code, so we have a remote to override and open lockers when this happens. We are supposed to verify a belonging in the locker before we open it.

A member comes to the front desk and asks for assistance.

Member: “Hey, I forgot my code. Can you help me open my locker?”

Me: “Do you mind letting me know what’s in there?”

Member: *Pauses* “My stuff?”

Me: “Sorry. I meant, would you describe one of your belongings, please? Like the color or brand of your bag?”

Member: “Why?! Do you think I’m going to steal something?!”

Me: “I never said that, but it is a policy for me to verify before opening.”

Member: “Can’t you just open it? I’ll let you know if it’s mine or not.”

Me: “If anyone walked in and pointed to a locker, would you want me to just open it for them and allow them to take things without verifying first? I wouldn’t want to be held liable if your belongings were stolen.”

The member stares at me for a few seconds and then responds without making eye contact.

Member: “It’s a blue Nike bag and a black hoodie.”