(My cousin is cursed and blessed with a very young-looking face. Despite the fact she is 35, she sometimes still gets asked for ID. I am 21 and have also inherited the family baby-face. We’re walking round a well-known mother-and-baby store chain. She is pushing her oldest child — still a toddler — in a pushchair, whilst I have her younger baby in a papoose on my back, to make things easier for her whilst she shops. We get everything she wants and join the line for the tills. Behind us are a pair of older women who start to make snippy comments about us.)

Old Lady #1: “Look at those two. Can’t keep their legs shut!”

Old Lady #2: “Ridiculous. Our generation didn’t fight in the war so that ungrateful girls like them could sponge off our war pensions.”

Old Lady #1: “I hope their mothers are ashamed.”

Old Lady #2: “I bet they’re not married. Probably no father in sight!”

Old Lady #1: “Probably a [racial slur] who slept with them for drug money.”

Old Lady #2: “Disgusting.”

(Finally, my cousin has had enough of this and turns around to speak to them.)

Cousin: “Excuse me, were you talking about me and my cousin?”

Old Lady #2: “Your ears work as well as your ovaries, then, love?”

Old Lady #1: *sniggering* “As if they know what ovaries even means!”

Cousin: “Not that it’s any of your business to judge who would and who wouldn’t make a good parent, but I’m 35, I’m married, I have a biology-based PhD, and I’m the head of Science at [Local Large Secondary School]. [My Name] here is my cousin and is just carrying my youngest daughter for me so I don’t have to use the bulky double pram on what I’d only planned as a very quick shopping trip. You’ve done nothing but make hateful assumptions, which, whilst we’re on the subject, reminds me, if – unlike me, obviously – you look your own age, then there’s no way you’re from the WWII generation. This would make you baby boomers, who’d be relying on my and [My Name]’s generation to foot your whopping NHS bills. I suggest you think before you open your mouths next time.”

Old Lady #1: *massively backpedalling* “Well, I didn’t mean my generation; my father…”

Old Lady #2: “We didn’t mean you, dear, we meant…” *looks around hoping to see a legitimate teenage mother in the store* “I… uh…”

Cousin: “Come off it! I don’t want to hear it. But I seriously hope you think before spouting any of your nonsense to your children or grandchildren without being sure of your facts!”

(They didn’t quite have the good grace to apologise, but did at least look a bit ashamed of themselves.)

(I’m on my lunch break at a shopping centre. As per my company’s uniform policy, I am wearing a jacket over my work shirt so it isn’t visible at all. Occasionally, a regular customer at my shop will see me elsewhere in the centre and ask for help, usually directions or recommendations. Then sometimes, this happens:)

Customer: “Where are the shopping carts?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “Well? Aren’t you going to get me one?”

Me: “A… What?”

Customer: “I need a shopping cart! I can’t carry it by myself.”

Me: “Well, you’d have to look in the shop you’re buying from. They have their own.”

Customer: “But aren’t you going to get me one?”

(I try to walk away, thinking that I have more than enough on my plate as it is. The customer then attempts to grab my arm; fortunately, I move away fast enough.)

Customer: “This is outrageous! I am going to report you to [My Company].”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m not at work right now. We don’t have shopping carts in our shop, and I don’t know where you are going or what you want to carry.”

Customer: “The vase. I said I wanted the vase!”

Me: “And where is this vase?”

Customer: “[Shop a few feet away], obviously! Can’t you see the vase?”

(I had noticed a window display featuring a collection of ornamental pots, so again I suggest that she asks an employee of that shop to help her. Then, I speedily make my way into the staff-only part of my own shop. Later that day…)

Manager: “[My Name], I had a rather weird complaint about you earlier.”

Me: “Was is a lady who wanted me to get a shopping cart so she could buy a vase at some other shop?”

Manager: “Uh… Maybe. A lady came in screeching that one of our employees refused to help her carry her purchase to the car. She insisted that it was you and waved this bag from [Other Shop], and I just said that our policy wasn’t to carry things for people unless they had particular needs. Then she screamed and asked why we didn’t have any carts.”

Me: “I was on my lunch break. I think she might have seen me working at some point but I wasn’t in uniform.”

Manager: “We got security in the end. She wouldn’t stop shouting that we needed carts and better staff. But I think one of the big security lads did manage to carry her vase for her.”

I was laptop shopping with my Dad, looking for a small laptop to take on my travels. This was ten years ago or so before iPads were really a thing, so I needed a small laptop to keep in touch with home.

We were browsing the different laptops when a member of staff came up to ask if we needed any help.

Dad had already noticed that there were higher-spec laptops for less money, but they were too big for my use, so he queried with the member of staff why they were cheaper.

The reply was that bigger laptops are heavier; therefore you can’t walk as fast with them, so people won’t pay as much for them.

I had to walk away to stop myself from laughing in this poor guy’s face. It’s still a running joke; when I added an extra SSD to my laptop today we said it has lost its value now as I won’t be able to walk as fast with it.

When my brother was a toddler, he never seemed to stop eating, and once his teeth grew in he would eat pretty much anything and everything he had access to. This led to some pretty funny moments.

Moment #1: While eating a packet of crisps, my brother fell asleep. The rule in my family, even at that age, was that if you left your snacks unattended, family members were allowed to take some. On this occasion, he fell asleep with one hand in the bag, and the other clamped tight around the top of the bag, thereby preventing anyone else from getting any without waking him up and making him cry.

Moment #2: When my aunt was visiting, we were having a family roast dinner. Due to my brother’s age, he only had a small portion, which, as per usual, he finished quickly. He got upset about something, so my dad passed him over the table to my mum so she could calm him down. As he was passed over my aunt’s plate, he reached out and grabbed a large slice of beef off of her plate and began to eat it, now completely content. The whole movement lasted only a couple of seconds.

Moment #3: Later, in the same visit from my aunt, we had visited a beach a couple of hours’ drive away. My brother once again had a packet of crisps, but this time he was less protective and my aunt was able to take one — she put it in her mouth, lay down on her spot of sand, and closed her eyes to relax. My brother, who was just slightly larger than average toddler, walked over to her, prised her mouth open, took the remains of his crisp out of her mouth, and ate it himself before walking back to his original position to finish his crisps. And that is why my brother became exempt from the snack-stealing rule.

(I work in a body piercing store.)

Customer: “Can I have one of these, please?” *pointing to the display of different-sized tapers for stretching piercings to larger gauges*

Me: “Of course. What size do you need?”

Customer: “A blue one.”

Me: “…”