I work in a small independent sweet shop. We can stay open but have restrictions in place for health reasons. The owner is quick to put in a “no mask, no service” policy and hand sanitiser for customers. His wife is pregnant and one of my coworkers has a relative who’s already poorly, so it just makes sense.

Owner: *To us* “I don’t care what they say, what they claim or who they know; they wear a mask. We’re not an essential shop, so they don’t need to be here, and I’m sure as h*** not risking anyone’s life over a pound of dolly mixtures.”

We stick to this, and we get the expected tantrums from adults, threats of being sued, and a surprising number of people lying about not being able to wear a mask, only to pull one out of their pocket when refused entry.

The strangest is “the old guy.” He’s around eighty and very smartly dressed, and he seems to be fully with it. He comes into the shop with no mask and walks straight past the hand sanitiser.

Me: “Sorry, but we’re asking all of our guests to wash their hands on arrival.”

Old Man: “Oh, it’s okay. I won’t be touching anything.”

Me: “Okay. But please, we have to insist.”

Old Man: *Shouting* “But I have dermatitis; it’s a real condition!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, but we cannot let you in without it.”

He grumbles something offensive under his breath and washes his hands, turning back to me with an “Are you happy now?” look.

Me: “Thank you, and now your mask?”

Old Man: “What? But I’m exempt!”

Me: “And we retain the right to not serve for any reason.”

Old Man: “You can’t do this!”

Me: “It’s store policy.”

He stares at me for a while and then slowly takes out a mask from his pocket, puts it under his nose, looks at me again, and wears it properly.

Me: “Thank you. Please let me know if you need any help.”

Old Man: “What, because I’m old I need help?”

Me: *Ignoring the remark* “Okay, sir, you let me know if you need help.”

He grumbled, poked a lot of the packaging, and wandered back out. I doubt he wanted to buy anything in the first place. I told the owner just in case I overstepped the line, but he was fine and thanked me.

We are all waiting to see if we have a job after all this. I can’t help but think that if there were fewer people like the old man we would all be back to normal so much more quickly.

Related:
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 15
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 14
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 13
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 12
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 11

I work at one of the main hospitals in the city, and I rotate between different entrances. Hospitals have been very strict with who they allow into the hospital since the health crisis, with only patients and select visitors being permitted. There are many people who try to come into the hospital despite not being a patient or knowing a patient who has been admitted, and a lot of my job involves calling the main switchboard and various units to ensure random people aren’t just wandering around and that people actually have someone they are going to visit.

One day, a visitor comes in.

Visitor: “I’m here to visit my grandmother.”

Me: “Can I have the spelling of her name, please?”

Visitor: “[Male First Name], uhh… [Last Name]?”

I call the main switchboard to see if they can locate the patient, and sure enough, they can’t find anyone under that name.

I report back to the visitor.

Visitor: “Oh, I have this friend here, [Male Name], and he’s in a wheelchair. You know him?” 

This hospital has almost 1,000 beds, and I’m not exactly on a first-name basis with patients!

I asked for the spelling of their name, and… they couldn’t tell me. I informed the visitor that they needed the correct spelling of any patient’s first and last name in order to visit. The patient wandered out the door. This happens at least once a shift.

The owner of my company is… eccentric. He is incredibly kind and caring, but sometimes he is not the most practical thinker. He inherited the company and so doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he is largely smart enough to leave the day-to-day running to the vice president and things generally run smoothly.

During the Black Lives Matter protests, the owner decides to launch a diversity initiative. It’s a great idea, but the implementation has some hiccups. An important factor is that my town is almost entirely white and, as such, there is currently only one African American employee in our office, [Coworker #1]. He is a twenty-two-year-old intern fresh out of school and so far has been doing well at his job. As part of the initiative, the owner promotes him from intern to Senior Manager after the previous Senior Manager retires, jumping him about six rungs up the ladder and putting him just behind the Vice President.

The following conversations all happen within the first two days.

Client #1: “Where is the documentation that was supposed to go with this order?”

Coworker #1: “I don’t know. I will try to find that.”

Client #1: “I don’t have time to wait for that. We’ve been ordering from your company for years and you’ve never missed the documents!”

Coworker #1: “I apologize. I’ll do what I can.”

Coworker #2: “I need you to approve this PTO; my mom just got put in the hospital.”

Coworker #1: “Of course, of course… How do I do that?”

Coworker #2: “I don’t know how that works. Maybe ask [Vice President]?”

Coworker #3: “Hey, there are some guys here saying they need to be paid for work from five months ago.”

Coworker #1: “Can I do that? Should I do that? What did they say they did?”

These and several other conversations in the same vein happen almost continuously, with everyone in the office doing their best to help out, but we are all also busy with our own jobs. [Coworker #1] is a ball of nerves and several times has gone to either the vice president or the owner and asked for his old job back. While the vice president is sympathetic, the owner just keeps saying, “Diversity is our strength,” and won’t cut the guy a break.

I work at a public pool.

Customer: “I have a complaint.”

Me: “What’s wrong?”

Customer: “I think people should be wearing masks in the water.”

I laugh, thinking it’s a joke.

Customer: “I’m serious. I think you should be requiring masks in the water.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m going to be honest with you. We don’t really want to waterboard our patrons. It would be a health hazard.”

Customer: “Well, I’m going to complain until something changes!”

Me: “Okay, have a nice day.”

I’m still baffled to this day and no one else has ever complained.

My girlfriend badly needs a new couch and I have recommended she just lurk on used websites until she sees something she likes. On the other hand, it is right in the middle of the first lockdown, and her mother has decided she would rather pay for a brand new couch than risk her daughter getting a [health crisis] couch.

We end up at a local store that is a big name in the community, looking at couches that cost more than we make in two months. And my girlfriend is really excited that she can get her couch in whatever colour she wants, as she is a very stylish woman who loves big, bold colours. She also loves that this store has the option to “build your own” couch, being able to take any design model and customize it to any shape.

She does keep in mind that there is going to be a bill that her mom will need to pay, so she gravitates toward the less expensive models. At one point, she locks eyes on a very heavily discounted couch and starts to get excited. It is not in any way, shape, or form, anything even approaching what she wanted, but for that price, she figures she can deal with it. I check the tag.

Me: “Umm, this price is for this couch.”

Girlfriend: “Yes! It’s not a terrible couch. It’ll work!”

Me: “No, I mean this exact couch.”

Girlfriend:  “Yeah, I don’t really like its shape that much, either, but it would save my mom a lot of money.”

Me: “No, I mean, this specific couch, in this colour.”

Girlfriend: *Recoiling* “Oh.”

It was a grey floor model — not even an interesting textured grey, just plain flat solid grey. Fortunately, her mother completely understood, agreed that a grey couch simply would not suit her, and was not upset to pay more for a better couch she actually liked.

My girlfriend currently has a cobalt blue velvet sectional. I’m slightly disappointed that she didn’t go for crimson like her last one, but I’m just glad I was able to talk her out of bright purple.