(I am going on my first international trip and I have a layover at O’Hare airport in Chicago. I’ve never been there before and the airport is MASSIVE. I get off my flight at terminal 2 and see that my next ticket says Gate M12, but I can’t figure out where the M gates are. I ask the first person I can find, who happens to be a TSA agent. )

Me: “Hi! Can you please tell me how to get to the M gates?”

Agent: “Terminal 5.”

(She stares at me, so I start to look around for signs pointing to terminal 5 and see nothing. I look back at her again.) 

Me: “Could you please tell me how to get to terminal 5?”

Agent: *in an extremely condescending tone* “Are you ready to listen or are you going to keep looking around?” 

(Thankfully, her directions were clear, but I have no idea what I did to get so much attitude.)

(My friends and I have been to a nightclub in the city, and instead of getting the train, I offer to drive everyone. I am stone-cold sober as I don’t like to drink alcohol; I don’t like the taste. We exit the club and see a food truck on the curb. All of my friends are a bit too drunk to want food, but I go over and join the queue. There are a few people in front of me, and finally the queue thins and it’s just me and a man that is so drunk that he can’t stand. At one point, he hunches over and gags but luckily isn’t sick.)

Server: “Anyone not had their order taken yet?”

(The drunk man in front of me ignores him and continues to gag.)

Server: “Anyone?”

(This goes on for two minutes and in the end, I roll my eyes and step forward to order. The second I open my mouth…)

Server: “Get back in line! That man was in front of you.”

(I shrugged and decided to walk away, because I had already been in the queue for ten minutes and it didn’t look like I was going to get any food any time soon. The second I stepped out of line, the man vomited over the curb and up the side of the truck.)

(I work at an institute for further adult education, supervising examinations. There have to be two supervisors present at all times to make sure that everyone follows the rules: no cheating, no use of electronic devices, etc. One supervisor is from the institute and one acts as a neutral party and is not affiliated with us at all. The external supervisor has been working with us for many years. He is a gruff, retired teacher and works mostly on a freelance basis. However, I notice that he has become increasingly irritating and difficult to deal with over the course of the last couple of months, sometimes to the extent that he flat-out insults examinees and threatens to kick them out for the most insignificant reasons. When I supervise with him, I almost have more difficulty keeping him in check than the students. But since he has been with us for so long, my boss says that we should at least work with him occasionally to keep the good relationship. On this day, I am once again supervising an exam with him. It is still early and the examinees are slowly filtering into the room, and while I do the identity and passport checks at the entrance, he is writing down the seating plan for those who have already chosen a seat. Suddenly, I hear him raise his voice, sounding angry. Sighing internally, I make my way over to where he is to see what is going on. He is currently standing in front of a woman who is already sat down and looks rather uncomfortable. She is also wearing a hijab.)

Me: “Hey, Mr. [Supervisor], is everything okay? What’s going on?”

Supervisor: *aggressively* “Yeah, I am just doing my job! We have to collect all electronic devices that these people may have so that they cannot use them to cheat right? I want her–” *gestures to the woman* “–to show me her ears! For all I know she could have one of those button-like radio things in there and get the answers from someone else!”

(I stare at him for ten seconds flat while my brain tries to catch up with what I just heard and come up with a coherent response. He, a broad, roughly sixty-year-old guy just demanded from a clearly Muslim woman to take off her headscarf to show him her ears! After finally getting my bearings, I desperately try to defuse the situation because the woman is definitely shaking right now.)

Me: “Uh, I really don’t think that that’s necessary. We are required to collect all mobile phones, smartwatches, and the like, and we have to supervise everyone, of course, but it definitely does not say anywhere in the regulations that we are required to search the clothes of the examinees or anything! I am not sure if that would be legal.”

Supervisor: “But I am here to ensure the safety of this examination! This is a cheating risk we should not tolerate! She has to show me her ears!”

Me: *firmly because I have had enough of him* “No, Mr. [Supervisor], that is not how we are supposed to do this. The regulations of [Testing Company that develops the exams] say nothing about frisking students! If you want, we can discuss this matter later, but now the other examinees are waiting to start the exam. Please finish your seating plan and then we will continue with the examination!”

(I intentionally tried not to make a big deal out of this to keep everyone as calm as possible but I was fuming inside! Somehow I managed to convince him to drop the subject and the exam went about without another major incident. The woman was okay from what I could tell and I made sure he did not go too close to her again. I kind of understand his concern and the safety rules of these exams are definitely not foolproof but it would be way above my paygrade — and his, for that matter — to try and change them. That, and he definitely went about it in the worst possible way! I also informed my boss in great detail about what had happened. Needless to say, we do not work with this supervisor anymore.)

(I’m opening the office mail when I notice a particularly thick envelope from a law office.)

Me: “All right, taking bets. Death, bankruptcy, or suing?”

Coworker: “Death.”

Me: “I feel like we get more bankruptcies.”

Manager: “Definitely suing.”

(I open the letter and find a check along with several invoices.)

Me: “Huh. They’re just paying their bill.”

Manager: “No one would have guessed that!”

(I am out to my lunch with my brother, his boyfriend, and my boyfriend. All three men are 5’7” or taller and they all work out. I order a bunch of French fries for myself. The waiter brings them over and gives them all to my brother.)

Brother: “Here, [My Nickname].”

(As I’m reaching for the French fries, assuming it was a mix-up and the waiter will understand, he cuts me off and tries to hand me my brother’s burger.)

Waiter: “No! Sorry, but this is yours!”

(He pressures me into taking it, so I do, planning on switching them back. Then, I look down at the tray. On a napkin is written, “You’re hot enough to bang all night long, babe. ;)” along with a phone number.)

Boyfriend: “What’s wrong?”

(I show him, and then my brother and his boyfriend. My brother takes the tray, giving me the fries.)

Me: “What are you planning?”

Brother: “Shhh!” *waiter arrives* “Hey, man.”

Waiter: “Yes, sir?”

Brother: “About this note…” *lifts it up*

Waiter: “Oh, s***. I’m so sorry, I meant it for her!”

Brother: “Oh, d***. I was hoping it was for me.”

Waiter: “Excuse me?”

Brother’s Boyfriend: *leans over brother’s shoulder, smirking* “Yeah, been a while since we had a threesome.”

Brother: “And you never let me suck your d**k! Maybe this guy will, since you’re so particular.”

Waiter: *pales and flees* 

(We all burst out laughing. The waiter comes back with a manager.)

Manager: “Sorry, ma’am, sirs. I’m going to ask you all to leave.”

Us: “Huh?”

Manager: “According to [Waiter] you were verbally harassing him, saying sexually explicit things, and being nosy.”

Me: “No, no! He gave me this note, and my brother was messing with him to try to teach him not to do this stuff.” *gives the note to him*

Manager: *pause* “I’m going to look into this. If you all are lying, I’ll have to ban you from all locations. And if you–” *turns to the waiter* “–are lying, there will be repercussions.”

(He leaves and we all go back to eating, kind of worried about the waiter situation. Eventually, the manager comes back, seething.)

Manager: “I’m so sorry. We have cameras, there, there, and there–” *pointing at nearby cameras* “–and they were able to show that [Waiter] did give you the note. Plus, we checked his handwriting, and it’s the same. I’m so sorry you were uncomfortable, and while I must say that I don’t condone your response, it was warranted. Would you like your meal for free?”

Me: “Oh, no, that’s okay. As long as he doesn’t get away with it.”

Manager: “He won’t.”

(We still wound up getting free dessert, somehow, but I’ll never forget my boyfriend’s facial expression when my brother started talking about sucking d**k.)