I’m an attendant at an indoor shooting range for kids, where they fire foam balls out of air-powered guns mounted within the arena. It can get a little hectic, but it’s an okay shift to get as parents either play with their kids or leave them to it.

There is a narrow passageway leading to the entrance, with a gate clearly stating, “No shoes beyond this point.” As you can imagine, we get a lot of parents walking straight through the gate to play with or watch their kids, and most of my job is reminding them to remove their shoes and place them in a nearby shoe park. There are also coin-operated lockers just next to the shoe park.

Most parents are fine, a few huff and puff, but this particular customer took the cake. He’s a middle-aged guy, fairly heavy-set, not exactly threatening, but I’m a pretty slightly built seventeen-year-old.

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry, but if you wouldn’t mind just removing your shoes if you’re going to come in.”

Customer: “Nah, they’ll get nicked.”

He’s wearing an incredibly battered pair of walking boots.

Me: “I can assure you it won’t be a problem, sir. While we can’t guarantee personal property, I’ve never seen anyone steal shoes around here. If you’re concerned, we do have coin-operated lockers—”

I’m interrupted at this point by the man stepping forward, directly into my personal space, and sticking his face into mine.

Customer: “So, will you guarantee the safety of my shoes, personally? Are you going to do that for me?!”

He is shaping up like he’s about to challenge me to a fight. This is a grown man, squaring up to a teenager, because he was asked to remove his shoes.

Me: “As I said, sir, I can’t guarantee any personal property. But you’ll need to take your shoes off to come in.”

The man gives me a long, searching look, then huffs, removes his shoes, and puts them RIGHT by the entrance. This is technically not allowed, but at this point, I don’t have the energy to argue with him. 

He goes in and starts playing with his kids. After about fifteen minutes, he comes up to me, grinning. 

Customer: “This is great! How long has this been here?! I don’t wanna leave!”

He was perfectly friendly and had a great time, and when he left, he not only thanked me, but he also handed me a lost membership card he’d found in the play area so it could be returned to its owner!

I can only imagine the abrupt shift in personality was due to him realising how pathetic it was to physically intimidate a seventeen-year-old half his weight over a no-shoes policy!

Our roommate has ricocheted from a long-term relationship into a new girlfriend. We all think it’s way too soon, but as much as we think that, and as annoying as we all find her, we are happy for him.

Me: “[Roommate]! Has your girlfriend been eating food from the shared fridge again?”

Roommate: “I’m sorry, man. She gets hungry and I don’t have anything she likes.”

Me: “Get something she does like, then. Order in, or spend time at her place. Don’t let her eat my food; it’s expensive and I have to go across town to get it.”

Roommate: “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her. Just, you know, we have fun hanging around with everyone.”

Me: *Sigh* “Fine, it’s fine. Just have a word before tomorrow. I’m getting my grandad’s chilli peppers and I’m not sharing with anyone.”

He says he will. I don’t know if he will do it or if she is ignoring him. A couple of days later, [Roommate]’s girlfriend shows up again and goes straight to his room. I’m in and out all night, and I arrive to find the two of them in a shouting match. The girlfriend pushes past me to leave the house.

Me: “That looked bad. You had an argument?”

Roommate: “Yeah, I don’t think she’s coming back.”

Me: “I’m sorry. This isn’t about the food, is it? I’m sorry if it is, but it had to be said.”

Roommate: “Oh, no. She was angry about that. But when I said it was you, I guess she sneaked into the kitchen to eat some of your food.”

Me: “No, not my chillis.”

Roommate: “Yeah, she took a big mouthful and started crying about how hot they were. She said you poisoned her on purpose and I had to make you apologise.”

Me: “Mate, she wasn’t good for you, and she was annoying as h***.”

He moped around for a few weeks, and after a few months, he found a great girl. They moved in together a while later. They come round every so often and she even brings her own food to share. Definitely an upgrade!

I’m working in a soft-play area as a supervisor. Our rule for the two biggest slides is that children have to wear trousers or leggings below the knee, and sleeves, due to the risk of friction burns if the kids aren’t careful on the slides. Vests and football shorts are a no-no. We actually encourage full coverage of arms and legs but recognise that’s not gonna happen in the summer, though we still ask parents to approve their kids going down if they’re in, say, shorts and a T-shirt. We give each kid a stamp if their parent or guardian gives the okay.

There’s quite a lot of grumbling and groaning from customers who aren’t prepared for the rules, but generally, we get to where we need to be. We even sell cheap leggings and trousers for kids who are wearing clothes we deem too dangerous.

I approach a customer whose kids have walked up to me asking if they’re allowed to go down.

Me: “I just need to check with your mum.”

The girl is fine, but the boy is wearing a vest and so needs to put something over his arms.

Customer: *Smiling* “Is everything okay? Can they go down?”

Me: *Also smiling* “Almost! We just need to find something for his arms—”

Customer: *Suddenly furious* “WHAT?! YOU KNOW WHAT?! I HAVE ABSOLUTELY HAD IT WITH THIS PLACE! GET ME A F****** MANAGER, NOW! ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS!”

This is clearly beyond my pay grade, so I do just that, and one of the managers comes from the office and takes over. I go about my business. At the end of the day, I approach said manager and ask what happened.

Manager: “Oh, she had something with long sleeves for the boy in her bag. She said it was just ridiculous we were ‘forcing’ her to ‘make him boil’ in the summer. I did explain everything about the health and safety issues, and she agreed but still said it was ridiculous.”

Me: “Oh, well, at least she did what we asked. She was really yelling and screaming at me.”

Manager: “That’s no good. Was she abusive?”

Me: “No. I guess just hot and bothered.”

Manager: “Aren’t we all? Imagine if we stopped applying the rules just because it was warm?”

I have quite severe Asperger’s and also social anxiety and paranoia. Because of this, I’m usually wearing headphones and listening to music to block out environmental noise.

I’m in a shop where I’m friends with one of the few staff members that don’t mind that I’m “weird,” and we have some running jokes such as where we pretend to chat each other up in an obviously jokey manner. We are both in relationships.

Friend: “See you later, babe.”

Me: “You know it.”

The customer behind me speaks to my friend.

Customer: “I can’t believe you have to put up with r****ds like him.”

Friend: “My friend, you mean?”

The customer is taken aback by the fact she’s defending me.

Customer: *Pointing to me* “Yeah, him. You’re obviously funny in the head and probably spend all day playing with knives and will one day snap and end up killing people.”

Me: “Probably, and if I do, who do you think I’m coming after first?”

Customer: “See, he just threatened to kill me! I want him thrown out of the store.”

Friend: “Sorry, I didn’t hear anything; these tills are very loud.”

Customer: “Right, I’m having him arrested. I’m calling the police, and you’ll be fired, too.”

Me: “There are several security cameras on this till and half a dozen witnesses who have seen you commit several acts of disability discrimination and behave aggressively to both other customers and staff. What will you tell them exactly?”

Customer: “Well, uh, you’re just an idiot that probably talks to the voices in his head.”

Me: “That’s right, and right now nine out of the ten voices in my head are telling me to advise you to sleep with one eye open.”

The customer storms out.

Friend: “And the tenth voice?”

Me: “It says I want pizza.”

We are just finishing a session at an indoor soft play area — the type where you pay for an hour and the kids get to run around. This one is inside of a large shopping centre.

As we are leaving, we see a woman and her kids arguing with the staff right by the entrance. As we wait to be signed out we overhear this.

Mother: “What do you mean, we can’t come in?”

Worker: “I’m sorry, but your session is over; we can’t let you in as the next session is full.”

Mother: “But you told us that we needed socks, so I said that I was going to get some. You didn’t tell me that you wouldn’t let me in!”

Like most soft play areas, you can’t run around in bare feet and slip. Big signs are all over the entrance, and it is pretty normal practice.

Worker: “We did say that you would have to be back in time.”

Mother: “But I told you I was going to get socks.”

Worker: “And I’m sorry, but that was thirty-five minutes ago.”

Mother: *Angrily* “Come on, kids. Looks like she won’t let us in.”

There are three shops that sell socks, all a two-minute walk from the area. I noticed she was holding four very full bags of shopping. Rather than grab a pair of socks and then rush back, she must have done her entire weekly shop and then come back to shout at staff for her own mistake.