I work at an academic library. We are currently closed to the public. We have one bathroom upstairs for library patrons only. There is a public bathroom just around the corner on the school part of the building, and it’s actually closer and easier to get to than our library bathroom as it’s on the same floor and has an automatic door. Throughout the day, we see many people from various different departments, nearby schools, etc.

A patron walks in, wearing a mask and dressed very casually. I’m sitting in my office but I can hear everything going on from there. The man clears his throat pointedly.

Male Visitor: “Where is the bathroom?”

Female Coworker: “Let me show you where the public bathrooms a—”

He cuts her off.

Male Visitor: “Is the library bathroom broken?”

Female Coworker: “N-No. But let me show you where the pub—”

He cuts her off once more, deepening his voice.

Male Visitor: “IS THE LIBRARY BATHROOM BROKEN?”

My coworker finally convinces him to let her show him the public bathrooms. He comes back. This time our boss is also here. The visitor jabs his finger at my coworker.

Male Visitor: “Don’t you know who I am? I’m Dr. [Male Visitor]. I donate a lot of money to this school. I know [Person high up at the school]. Next time I ask you to use your bathroom, YOU LET ME USE YOUR BATHROOM!”

He glares at them both, turns on his heel, probably propelled by the panicked breathing of my coworker, and leaves. My two coworkers are standing there, shocked.

Our Boss: “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’ll let [Head Of Libraries] know what happened in case he reports you. I have your back.”

Maybe my coworker should’ve asked if he was affiliated with the school. But our next visitor after that was a person of the public who was looking for a different building and looked just as professional or authoritative as the rude guy. We can’t recognize everyone. But now we’ll definitely remember him.

Also, apparently, he had told my coworker that he had come from the same part of the building as the bathrooms AND had already walked past them to get to us.

I am the manager of a popular clothing store. We have a few people quit while we are shut down during the public health scare, so I need to hire new associates when we reopen.

I interview a girl with a lot of retail experience and it goes well so I hire her. She approaches me when she clocks in for her first shift.

Coworker: “I want to warn you about something and I was afraid to say this during the interview because I thought you wouldn’t hire me.”

Huge red flag.

Coworker: “There is something about me where customers think they can make up stuff about me and things I say. It has happened at all my jobs multiple times. I don’t know what it is about me but I can guarantee it will happen.”

Now I’m nervous. I don’t know what to think of what she said, but I figure I will keep an eye on her. Her first few shifts go fine. About two or three weeks after hiring her, I hear her talking to a guest who has just entered.

Coworker: “Welcome to [Store]! Is there anything I can help you find?”

Customer: “We’re looking for jeans for my husband.”

Coworker: “Great! All of our [Brand] jeans are on sale for $19.99.”

Customer: *Looks at her husband* “Oh, honey, [Brand] is your favorite! And they’re only $19.99? We’ll check them out, thank you!”

The customers walk away and I continue with my duties. About twenty minutes later, there’s a commotion at the register.

Customer: *Screaming* “I don’t care what they ran up as! She—” *points to the new coworker* “—told me they were $14.99 each and you need to honor that price!”

My jaw dropped. I looked at my coworker who just sighed. They eventually asked for a manager and I refused to sell the jeans for $14.99. I’m so happy I witnessed this because I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself.

I am trying to find regular work after being laid off due to the health crisis. I have a seasonal job through the holidays, but that is only about six weeks of work. Once my contract ends, I decide to use a little bit of the money I made to buy hair dye and dye my hair red; I want it a bit darker but it ends up about the color of Princess Ariel’s hair, but shoulder-length.

After going through FOUR phone interviews spread out over two months, I finally get an in-person interview. I meet the interviewer, she gets me a visitor badge, and we head to her office. After some small talk about traffic and the weather, we sit down in her office. As soon as I sit down, she starts with:

Interviewer: “So, your hair is a problem. It needs to be a natural color.”

Me: “Yeah, I thought that might be the case, but it’s no problem. I can cut it down to my roots. I’ve had short hair before so I know I like it.”

Interviewer: “Oh, I’d feel bad if we made you cut it. You can also dye over it.”

Me: “Yeah, I can’t really dye over this, but it’s okay; I’ve had short hair before.”

We talk for a few minutes about my work experience and such, and she brings it up again.

Interviewer: “I feel bad for making you cut your hair if you get the job, but it’s the policy for no unnatural colors. I feel bad that you can’t dye over it.”

Me: “It’s really okay. I’ve had short hair before. I can even show you a picture if you want.”

Interviewer: “No, that’s not necessary. I just feel bad you have to cut it.”

I reassured her AGAIN that it was fine. We talked about me some more and she brought it up a THIRD TIME. This time, I actually unlocked my phone and started looking through my pictures, but she stopped me and said it was fine, but she just felt so bad I had to cut it. We took a tour of the facilities and she brought it up a FOURTH TIME. I didn’t know what else to say at this point, so I just sympathized with her for feeling bad for making me cut my hair. Needless to say, I didn’t get the job.

I’m chatting with my sister on the phone about the global health crisis. Unfortunately, I’ve been distracted by video games lately, particularly one where you play as an assassin.

Sister: “And there are some businesses that require a vaccine or else you can be terminated.”

Me: “Wow, that’s a little extreme.”

Sister: “What?”

Me: *Realization dawning* “Other kind of ‘terminated’. Right. Sorry.”

Sister: *Jokingly* “Either way, I guess you’re getting shot.”

Hurricane Ida is getting ready to hit, so I go to the store to stock up on groceries (booze). I forgot my ID.

Cashier: “Can I see your ID?”

Me: “No.”

Cashier: “Okay.”

And then she just rang me up. I was tired, and I meant to say, “Sorry, I just realized I don’t have it!” or something polite, but I could only say no. She must’ve just accepted her fate.