I work in a specialist nursing home for people with severe and enduring mental health problems. A female resident with South East Asian origins enjoys cooking and offers to make traditional chai tea for staff, under supervision.

Whilst being assisted by a support worker whose English is not great, she adds more than fifty teaspoons of sugar to the pan, as well as spices and other ingredients.

Me: “This tea tastes really good!”

Those of us who don’t mind the sweetness enjoy it.

Then, the support worker tells a colleague about part of the cooking process.

Support Worker: “She just crushed the walnuts by crunching them in her mouth and then spitting them into the pan.”

She hadn’t realised that people would find this revolting!

We agreed that when she made it again, she needed to use appropriate equipment to do that task. Thankfully, the support worker saw the sense of this.

I was not too concerned about this, given how many motorway service stations I ate in during my childhood in the 1970s, where I probably ingested far worse!

Related:
If At First You Don’t Succeed, Chai Again, Part 7
If At First You Don’t Succeed, Chai Again, Part 6
If At First You Don’t Succeed, Chai Again, Part 5
If At First You Don’t Succeed, Chai Again, Part 4
If At First You Don’t Succeed, Chai Again, Part 3

I am at a hairdressers’ shop I don’t normally visit, because I’ve heard good things about it and I’ve decided I don’t mind its price tag. I’m introduced to my stylist and she asks what I want. I show her with the images I brought in.

That is as far as the conversation side goes with her. It’s not like she doesn’t partake in any small talk, she just doesn’t talk to me. During the wash station and cut, she chats to everyone but me. When I do talk, she either goes, “Uh-huh,” dismissively or flat-out ignores me in favour of talking to other clients and staff.

She has just finished my hair and I’m paying for the cut; I opt not to mention her ignoring me and just not leave a tip… until this happens.

Stylist: *Loudly* “What, no tip?”

This results in people looking over.

Me: *Just as loudly* “You ignored me for the entirety of the hour and a half I was in here and you want a tip? How about putting conversation with your client higher than conversation with other stylists’? After all, I’m the one who pays and tips you, not them.”

She went bright red, and I left.

A new client is registering her cat. We have to ask basic details like breed, age, etc.

Me: “…and what colour is he?”

Client: “Ooh, I don’t know what colour you’d call it. He looks just like a lion!”

Me: “So shall I put ginger?”

Client: “No, no, he’s black and grey!”

I am a shift manager for one of the larger fast-food companies, almost exclusively working overnight shifts. That means that I get the usual assortment of drunks, stoners, and general oddballs you expect to encounter at three in the morning. I’m on first-name terms with the majority of the police also working nights in the local area due to my company offering them free coffees.

On this particular evening, three men come in at around 3:30 am. They’re extremely drunk, but they order their food without issue and sit down and eat. However, one of them decides naptime is in order and lies down on one of the benches and falls asleep. After finishing their food, the other two pile on top of him to create a triple stack of drunk guys. Since they’ve caused no issues, I just leave them be and carry on with my work.

Fast forward to about 5:00 am. A pair of police officers come in for coffee and ask me if I want the still-sleeping man-stack moved on. 

I point at the guy in the middle and say, “That’s my coworker.” He’s another shift manager.

Then, I point at the guy on top and say, “That’s my boss.” He’s the assistant store manager.

Finally, I point at the guy on the bottom and say, “That’s my brother; he’s also at work in two hours, so if anything, he’s early.”

This story is part of our Best Of September 2020 roundup!

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My coworker and I work at a supermarket in a village where most people are extremely religious. I am the manager, watching this discussion between my coworker, who has a rainbow pride flag badge on her, and an old lady.

Coworker: “…and your total will be £13.57, madam.”

Old Lady: “Oka—” *Screams* “No! I will not be served by a devil follower!”

Coworker: *Confused* “Madam, I will have to ask you to stop shou—”

Old Lady: “Shut up, you little devil b****! Get me your manager!”

Me: “No need, ma’am. What seems to be the problem?”

Old Lady: “This [Indian racial slur] is a disgrace to your store! She is a lesbian! She is a sin and will burn in eternal Hell! Fire her right now or I will tell God about it!”

Me: “Ma’am, not that it matters, but my coworker is not gay. Second of all, I will have to ask you to leave now before I call security for your language and rudeness to my staff. Get out.”

Old Lady: “She has a f****** devil badge on her! Of course, she is! And I am one of your regular customers! If you don’t fire her, you will lose a paying customer and you will burn in the eternal flame of Hell like she will!”

Me: “She supports gay rights; it doesn’t mean she’s gay. I support animal rights, but do I look like a f****** alpaca to you?!”

The lady turned red in the face and continued swearing at me and my coworker. Then, she took a vase off a shelf and threw it at her, but a man watching caught it in his hands. He grabbed her by the arm and took her to security. She left screaming and being violent but no one was hurt, luckily.