(My husband and I play [Trading Card Game]. Like most players, we have our valuable cards in binders that we carry with us to our local shop when we go to play, in case someone wants to do trades. A friend asks my husband to trade, so he hands the friend one of our three binders and sits looking at our friend’s binder. Our other two binders are on the table in front of me, and I’m sitting next to my husband, but his back is to me. A random guy that I’ve never seen before sits down at the table across from my husband. Note: some [Trading Card Game] cards are highly sought after and quite valuable, so a person’s binder could be worth anywhere from several hundred to several thousand dollars.)

Guy: “Oh, y’all are trading? Anything good?” *points to our binders* “Whose are these?”

(My husband and [Friend] ignore him as they discuss the cards they’re looking to trade and the value of those cards.)

Me: *pointing to my husband* “They’re our cards. He’s busy with [Friend] right now, so you might as well be talking to a brick wall.”

Guy: “Oh, okay.” *tries to grab the binders, but I snatch them out of his reach* “I just want to look.”

Me: *glaring at him* “Well, [Husband] is busy, and I’m not looking for anything right now. And I don’t know you, so don’t think you can just grab our cards like that!”

Guy: *to my husband* “Hey, man, she won’t let me look at your cards.”

(He snaps his fingers at my husband and I grit my teeth at his impertinence.)

Husband: *obviously annoyed but not looking up* “That’s my wife, and she plays, too, so those cards are half hers. Just wait a minute and we can try to deal, if you have stuff I want.”

Guy: *tries snatching the binders from me again* “I just want to see what he has!”

Me: *slamming the binders on the table as I jump out of my chair, fed up with his arrogance* “Listen here, you a**! I said you couldn’t just grab our cards like that, because I don’t know you! Try touching them again, and I will rip your f****** head off your shoulders, you got it?!”

Guy: *jumps up then glares at me* “You’re crazy!”

Friend: *finally looking up* “Hey, hey! Whooooa!” *to the guy* “[Guy], she told you not to touch their stuff and you didn’t listen and kept trying to grab their money cards, so of course she’s going to get crazy!” *to me* “[My Name], no committing murder. I don’t feel like helping [Shop Owner] and [Employee] mop up his blood, okay?”

Guy: “Whatever, man! I’m out. This chick is crazy.”

(My husband watches the guy leave, then shrugs and kisses my cheek.)

Husband: “And that, baby, is why I love you.”

(I am a woman in my mid-twenties. I recently decided that I wanted to learn about superhero comic books. They seemed like something I would like, so I started into the comic book world, not knowing what I was really doing. I read books from the library for a while and learned about the universes a bit, and then, feeling that I had a little bit of footing, went to a comic book store to buy some of my own. I get to the comic book store and realize that it’s more overwhelming than I ever imagined. I have come from a meetup with friends, so I am wearing makeup, heels, and a dress. I go up to the desk and smile.)

Me: “Hi. I’m new the comic book world, and I was wondering if you’d be able to help me choose.”

(The words are like magic, and the man’s smile lights up, and four other customers also flock to me.)

Store Employee: “What have you read, what do you like, and what haven’t you liked?”

Me: “I’ve mostly enjoyed superheroes.”

Store Employee: “DC or Marvel? Which heroes?”

Me: “I tend to like heroes that are good to their cores. So, I haven’t enjoyed Deadpool or Iron Man, because they’re selfish people that just end up helping by accident. I like Captain America a fair bit, but my favorite is Hawkeye, because he’s good without needing praise. I like Marvel more, because DC has intricate villains, but really vanilla heroes. That’s why I like Hawkeye. He’s clinically depressed; no one has diagnosed him, but he still fights through and saves people.”

(They spent fifteen minutes telling me about their favorite series and helping me navigate all the different sub-universes within the universes, and they were fantastically helpful. I also had three of them ask for my number.)

(I work in a comic shop. The shop is currently closed for a stock-take; however, we still have many people coming up to our front doors, knocking, and yelling. On this occasion, a woman who looks to be in her 50s slowly makes her way up to our glass doors, I see her gawp at the “closed for stock-take” signs on our door as I’m sorting through comics. She begins to yell through the door and knock very loudly.)

Woman: “WHEN ARE YOU GUYS OPEN AGAIN?!”

(My male coworker is talking to her through the door as I’m watching.)

Coworker: “Possibly tomorrow? Sorry, but we’re not entirely sure. It’s probably safe to come back in a few days. Sorry about that.”

Woman: “NOT GOOD ENOUGH. I DROVE 20 HOURS TO GET TO THE CITY TODAY!”

(The woman storms off.)

Me: *to confused coworker* “20 hours?”

(There were also three other comic shops on the same street…)

(I really dislike Superman as a character, which my husband knows. We both play a collectible figure strategy game that has characters largely based on comic books and movies (as well some video games and other stuff). The pieces are referred to as Clix. I do have a great love of Batman and his villains, and most of my own collection reflects that. I refuse to take in any Superman pieces, though, with the exception of one.)

Husband: *opening a box from a new set* “Hey, check this one out. Superman’s all infected with Kryptonite.”

Me: *I grab the card that accompanies the piece and explains his abilities, and laugh* “Nope! Figures, he’s actually under Poison Ivy’s control. How does he always wind up like that? It’s so ridiculous. I hate him.”

Husband: “Why is that again?”

Me: “He’s touted as being super and infallible but he usually either winds up under someone’s control or loses his temper and goes nuts! There’s even a whole video game where he becomes a tyrannical dictator and melts Shazam’s face in one of the cut-scenes! He sucks.”

Husband: *holds the piece out to me* “You do like Poison Ivy though, and he pairs up with her.”

Me: “Hmmm… I do…” *takes the piece* “I shall call him B**** Superman. Because he’s Poison Ivy’s b****.”

Husband: *laughs* “Okay, you have fun with that.”

(I’m the owner of a comic book store that’s going through hard times. In addition, one of my workers recently quit because I couldn’t pay him enough for him to support his family, which I understood and we parted on good terms. He still comes in when we host card game tournaments. Then one night…)

Employee: “Hey, I saw that [Former Coworker] is here?”

Me: “Yeah?”

Employee: “You know he got a job at [Competitor], right?”

Me: *saddened* “Oh… well, good for him, I suppose.”

Employee: “Yeah, but he’s also upstairs right now selling their products in our shop!”

(Just goes to show that being nice to people rarely gets you anything.)